Breaking Up and Moving Up

Orlando and I had been together for ten years.

I'd looked after his sick mom, sweating out a fever of my own, and where was he? Knocking back drinks with Rosalind, playing therapist to her broken heart.

I swallowed my pride at work, getting chewed out by my boss, while he spent the night companying Rosalind because she had cramps.

Then, when I got the news my mom had passed, I tried calling him, desperate for support. But nope—phone off. After a wild goose chase, turns out he was at Rosalind's graduation.

That was it. I gave up.

But Orlando wouldn't let go. Red-eyed, he begged me for just one more chance.

When I got back from my mom's funeral, it was pouring.

Rain soaked through me, blurring my vision, and a heavy fog settled over my mind.

My phone rang.

I glanced at the screen, expressionless. "Orlando." The name brought a sharp, familiar ache.

Orlando Reid and I had been together a decade. He was always distant, sometimes downright cold.

I kept thinking that if I stayed, if I loved him hard enough, he'd finally let me in. But no amount of love could break through his wall of indifference.

A week ago, I got the call that my mom had passed.

Before she died, she worried about my future. She'd say, "Wren, you've been with Orlando so long, but he still hasn't talked about marriage. I know this might sound harsh, but I have to say it.

"You two come from such different worlds. If Orlando really cherished you, I wouldn't be worried. But from where I stand, it's only you who's fully committed.

"I'm scared you'll only end up hurt if you marry into his family."

She wasn't wrong. I came from a small town. Orlando's parents were college professors. We were worlds apart.

I tried to reassure her, saying his mom, Cordelia, didn't mind my background; she actually liked me. I told her Orlando was just busy with work and that we'd marry eventually.

But how long would I be waiting?

Deep down, I didn't know.

Saying Orlando was "too busy" was just an excuse.

Cordelia didn't care about my background; she only cared about what Orlando wanted.

Once, I carefully brought up marriage with him. Rosalind Olson was there too and instantly scoffed, "Are you that eager to marry into Orlando's family and live the high life? No need to rush. If your mom needs money for treatment, Orlando can help out even if you two aren't married."

Yes, my family was poor, but after college, I got a solid job at a gaming company with decent pay and benefits.

I could cover my mom's medical bills by cutting corners and saving up.

In all my years with Orlando, I'd never once thought of using his money.

When he found out about my mom's illness, he came with me to see her and handed me a bank card with twenty thousand on it, saying to use it however I needed—and to let him know if I needed more. But he never mentioned marriage. Not once.

Always feeling self-conscious about where I came from, I never brought up marriage again or touched his card.

Instead, I waited for him to bring it up. I waited for years. And here we are.

My dad had told me, "Your mom was in so much pain toward the end, barely coherent, but she kept whispering your name, worrying Orlando might let you down.

"I know Orlando's busy, but can't you ask him to spare just one day to come to the funeral?

"After all these years, she only met him once. It would've given her peace; call it her last wish."

Panicked, I called Orlando. He answered with a curt, "I'm busy," and hung up.

I kept calling, dozens of times, but he didn't pick up. Eventually, his phone went straight to voicemail.

After college, he'd started a gaming studio, and as it grew, so did his excuses. Even though we lived in the same city, we sometimes went a month without seeing each other.

If I didn't call or set up plans, who knew when we'd meet?

Supposedly, we were dating, but it was always me reaching out. If he was free, he'd respond; if not, he wouldn't bother, and he never called back. I'd learned to accept it, telling myself he was just busy or in a meeting, so I tried to contact his assistant instead.

It's ridiculous, really—I was dating Orlando, yet I talked to his assistant more than him.

The assistant's voice had a hint of pity as he said, "Mr. Reid is currently busy. Maybe you can try again later."

But I was too frantic to notice.

On the bus home, I kept dialing his number with no luck. Then, scrolling through social media, I saw a post from Rosalind.

She'd posted a picture.

In it, Orlando had his arms around her, a faint smile on his face, while she held a massive bouquet of roses.

The caption read: [Orlando canceled so much work to come to my graduation! He's the best! 🥰 And the roses he got me are gorgeous!]