Breakfast for a Stranger

The morning sunlight poured into the kitchen like liquid gold, warming the marble counters and catching on the tiny flecks in the avocado Renee was mashing. She spread it on the toast carefully—too carefully—realizing only halfway through that she was overthinking even breakfast. But it didn’t stop her. She still sprinkled chili flakes the way Victor liked. Still sliced the lemon just thin enough. Still arranged everything on his favorite ceramic plate. Old habits. Old hopes. Victor walked in exactly two minutes later, crisp in a navy button-down, hair styled like he was preparing to charm an entire boardroom. He didn’t look at her. Not even a passing glance. He went straight to the coffee machine, phone in hand, thumb flying across the screen. “Morning,” Renee said softly. “Mm.” Noncommittal. Distracted. The same sound he used when Lyft drivers asked if the temperature was okay. Her chest tightened. She pushed the plate toward him. “I made breakfast.” Victor finally looked up—sort of. His eyes flicked to the toast, then immediately back to his phone. “Thanks. Just—leave it. I’m waiting for an update on the B-round negotiations.” Of course he was. Renee forced a smile. “You were working late again last night.” Victor frowned at the screen. “That’s how startups work, Renee.” She swallowed the frustration. “I know. I just… didn’t hear you come to bed.” “Because I slept in the guest room.” Flat. Like it was the most normal sentence in the world. The words hit her harder than she expected. He didn’t notice. Or pretended not to. His phone buzzed, lighting up. His expression sharpened instantly—focused, hungry, alive in a way he never seemed to be with her anymore. “That’s Keller,” he murmured. “Need to take this.” Renee’s heart stuttered. “Vanessa Keller? Summit PR?” Victor froze for half a second—just long enough for Renee to notice the slip. “It’s about corporate branding,” he said too quickly. “You wouldn’t understand.” Renee set the knife down a little too hard. The metallic clink sliced through the tension. “I’m not stupid, Victor.” He didn’t even look up. “I never said you were.” “No,” she said quietly. “But you stopped talking to me like I matter.” Victor exhaled, annoyed. “Renee, we’re adults. Not teenagers. I don’t have to give you a play-by-play of every business call.” “That’s not what I—” The phone rang again. He lifted it immediately. “Hey, yes. I’m here.” He stepped out of the kitchen. Not a single glance back. Not a thank you. Not a smile. Not even a goodbye. Renee stood alone at the counter, staring at two untouched slices of avocado toast. The chili flakes looked like tiny sparks. Like something was about to burn.