Blaze’s POV
The double date feels doomed from the moment we sit down.
Sophie chose an upscale restaurant downtown—white tablecloths, ambient lighting, the kind of place designed for romance and celebration.
Instead, Asher and I occupy opposite sides of the table like polite strangers, offering careful smiles and measured responses that fool absolutely no one.
"This place is beautiful," Eric observes, gamely attempting to break the ice. "Sophie mentioned the seafood here is incredible."
"It is," I manage. "We came here for our anniversary last year."
The memory lands wrong—a reminder of happier times that feels more like an accusation than nostalgia. Asher's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and I watch Sophie's worried glance dart between us.
She works overtime trying to keep conversation flowing, asking Eric about his work, sharing funny stories about her own life. Her desperation to create a buffer between our obvious discord would be touching if it wasn't so exhausting to witness.
Eric plays along admirably, charming and witty despite clearly sensing the undercurrents of conflict he's been unwittingly dragged into.
For brief moments, it almost works. Wine loosens our rigid postures. Laughter breaks through the tension when Eric tells an embarrassing story about a presentation gone wrong.
I allow myself to hope we might salvage the evening, might find our way back to being the couple our friends expect us to be.
Then Asher starts talking about work.
"The press tour kicks off next month," he says, his face lighting up in a way I haven't seen directed at me in weeks. "Ten cities in fourteen days. The marketing team is really excited about the engagement opportunities."
"That sounds exhausting," Sophie says diplomatically. "But exciting."
"It is. Kieran's been working with me on the social media strategy—he thinks we can really expand my platform if we approach it right."
Asher takes a sip of wine, oblivious to the way my hands have tightened around my fork. "He's got some great ideas about connecting with fans in different cities. More personal, more authentic."
The enthusiasm in his voice, the obvious priority he places on his career, on Kieran's opinions, on everything that isn't us, ignites something dark in my chest. Something I've been trying to suppress for weeks.
"Sounds like another few weeks away from home," I observe, my voice carefully neutral but edged with something sharp. "I'm sure Kieran will make sure everything runs smoothly for you."
Asher's fork pauses halfway to his mouth. His ice-blue eyes meet mine, and I watch them flash with immediate defensiveness. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Just acknowledging how well you two work together." I take a deliberate sip of wine. "Very... dedicated to the job."
The implication hangs in the air like poison. Sophie's face goes pale. Eric suddenly becomes very interested in his menu, despite having already ordered.
"Are you seriously going to start this here?" Asher's voice drops, dangerous and controlled. "In front of everyone?"
"Start what? I'm just making conversation about your very important career. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Support your professional growth? Celebrate how much time you spend with your attractive colleague?"
"Don't." His whisper carries more weight than a shout. "Don't do this passive-aggressive bullshit, especially not in public."
But I can't seem to stop myself. Months of resentment and insecurity come pouring out, each word sharper than the last.
"Maybe if you spent half as much energy on our marriage as you do on your press tours, I wouldn't have to make passive-aggressive comments. Maybe if I didn't spend every day alone in our apartment while you're off being adored by strangers—"
"Oh, here we go." Asher laughs bitterly. "Poor Blaze, abandoned at home while his husband works. You knew what you were signing up for when you married me."
"I signed up for a partnership, not a long-distance relationship. I signed up for a husband who actually wants to be around me."
"I do want to be around you! But I can't put my entire career on hold because you're bored and jealous!"
"Jealous?" The word comes out louder than I intended. Nearby diners turn to look. "You think this is about jealousy?"
"Isn't it? You've been obsessing over Kieran since the day you heard his name. Making up scenarios in your head, convincing yourself that I'm—what? Having an affair? With my social media manager?"
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to. It's written all over your face every time I mention his name."
Asher's voice rises despite his earlier insistence on discretion. "I have been faithful to you, Blaze. Completely, totally faithful. And the fact that you can't trust me after everything we've been through—"
"Maybe I'd trust you more if you ever prioritized me over your precious career!"
The words hang in the air, ugly and irretrievable. Sophie sits frozen, her wine glass suspended halfway to her lips. Eric looks like he's desperately calculating the fastest exit route.
When the fight finally burns itself out, we're both breathing heavily, faces flushed with anger and embarrassment.
The silence that follows is excruciating. I become aware of whispers rippling through nearby tables, of phones that might be recording, of the public spectacle we've just created.
Two well-known figures, destroying each other over untouched entrees.
"I need to use the bathroom," Asher mutters, shoving back from the table without meeting anyone's eyes.
"I need some air," I manage, my voice rough with shame.
Outside, the cool evening breeze does nothing to ease the burning humiliation in my chest. I've barely had time to collect my thoughts when Sophie appears beside me, her expression a mixture of concern and confusion.
"Okay, what the hell was that?" she asks bluntly. "I've never seen you two like this. What's going on?"
I can't meet her eyes. Instead, I watch normal couples walk past on the sidewalk, holding hands, their relationships apparently free from the toxic spiral consuming mine.
"Remember that advice you gave me? About talking to Asher, being honest about how I was feeling?" My laugh is bitter, hollow. "Well, I took it. And apparently honesty isn't always the best policy."
Sophie's face crumples with guilt. "Blaze, I'm so sorry... I never meant for things to get worse between you two."
"It's not your fault. This has been building for months. You just gave me permission to stop pretending everything was fine."
"Should I talk to him? Maybe if I…"
"No." I shake my head firmly. "This is between us. We'll figure it out or we won't, but dragging more people into our mess isn't going to help."
When we return to the table, Eric looks deeply uncomfortable and Asher appears hollow-eyed, defeated. The evening is obviously over. We exchange awkward apologies with our confused companions, pay our bills in strained silence, and leave separately.
As I drive home alone, another small but significant symbol of our growing estrangement, I know with grim certainty that we'll be sleeping in different rooms again tonight.
The pattern is becoming too familiar, too comfortable. And that terrifies me more than our public fight ever could.