A Promise to Remember

An oblivious friend slurred from the side, "Audrey, you don't know, but Nora is allergic to fish."

"Oh, really?" Audrey replied in a flat tone.

After several rounds, everyone was tipsy. One flushed guy declared, "Ted, we all bet you'd stay single until 30. Didn't expect you to find the one so soon."

Another grinned foolishly. "Yeah, we thought you and Nora were so close that you'd end up together."

Audrey's face clouded over, but Ted laughed it off. "Us? Nah, we're just best buds. That's hilarious."

He cackled as if it were the punchline of a great joke. His friends piled on. "Pure platonic vibes all the way, ha!"

I joined in the laughter. "Ted and I? That would be absurd."

Ted came over, slinging an arm around my shoulders. He was plastered, his cheeks rosy and his eyes watery. Tilting his head, he asked, "You don't actually like me, do you?"

I searched his eyes for something, but there was nothing. To him, we were truly just friends.

I forced a grin. "As if."

"Good." He nodded, shaking my shoulder. "We're best pals forever."

Despite all the booze, I'd never felt so clear-headed. I echoed softly, "Best pals."

...

The next morning, I booked a direct flight home.

Before boarding, I took one last peek at my phone. Ted had posted a new update—a photo of him and Audrey, their hands laced together. No captions were needed.

It was an official announcement, flooded with congratulations from their friends. I stared for a moment, then yanked out the SIM card and tossed it into the trash.

Returning home proved smoother than I'd imagined. My parents picked me up at the airport, and with the holidays approaching, the streets were alive with twinkling lights, wreaths, and Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas.

It lacked Eldonfield's glitz, but the lingering scent of fireworks grounded me in a comforting way.

My mom was thrilled since I'd skipped three Christmases at home to spend them with Ted.

But her joy lasted only briefly before she slipped into nagging. "You're almost 30 now. When are you going to settle down? Our neighbor's daughter is a year younger, and her kid's already toddling around, all chubby and adorable. Even my younger coworkers are going on blind dates. Oh, and the guy next door is handsome. I'll introduce you."

She snuck glances at my expression while talking because I'd always hated blind dates.

My eyes had been fixated on Ted, leaving no room for anyone else. After our drunken slip-up blurred our boundaries, my focus had narrowed even further to him alone.

Alice's talk of marriage had always irritated me. But now, as I gazed at the whirling confetti from firecrackers outside the window, exhaustion washed over me.

Settling down didn't sound so bad after all.