It was our anniversary dinner, supposed to be this big, romantic thing, reservation I had to book like two months in advance for this place downtown, the one with the exposed brick and the tiny plates that cost a fortune. And we sat there. Just sat there. We ordered drinks, then the food, and barely a word was exchanged. Not even a fight, which honestly would have been better, at least then there would be some kind of energy in the room. Just... silence. Heavy, thick silence, like a blanket smothering everything. I kept looking at his face, trying to see something, anything, a flicker of the person I used to know, the one who would make me laugh until my stomach hurt, but there was nothing. Just this blank, almost annoyed expression. And then, mid-appetizer, he looked at me, gave this weird little half-smile, and said, "Picture time, right?" Like a chore. Like punching a clock. And I swear to god I wanted to scream. I wanted to take that perfect little heirloom tomato bruschetta and smash it right into the exposed brick wall, but instead, I smiled back. This HUGE, fake-ass smile, the one I’ve perfected for Instagram, the one that says "we are SO in love, look how happy we are, look how perfect our lives are." He leaned in, put his arm around me, squeezed my shoulder just enough for the camera, and we clicked. One shot. Then he pulled away, picked up his fork, and went back to his tiny plate of scallops like nothing had happened, like we hadn't just created this beautiful, FALSE snapshot of our lives. And I looked at the picture on his phone, then on mine, all the filters already applied, ready to go live, and it just looked so... right. Like the caption I was already mentally writing: "Another year down with my favorite human ❤️ so lucky to have you." WHAT a lie. And then we ate the rest of the dinner, him just scrolling on his phone between bites, me staring out the window at the city lights, thinking about how we got here. How did we become this? This performance? This perfectly curated, perfectly empty display? All the comments that are going to pour in tomorrow morning, "relationship goals!" and "you guys are the cutest!" and "OMG I wish I had what you have." And I just want to reply to every single one of them, "It's all a lie. It's all just a picture. We didn't say a single word for two hours." But I won't. I'll probably post it too. Just like he will. And we'll keep doing it, keep smiling for the camera, keep pretending, because what else is there? The bill came, he paid, we walked out, still in silence. Got in the car, drove home, silence. And here I am, 2 AM, staring at the ceiling, thinking about that picture, about how good we are at pretending, and how much I hate it.