Eight Years of Love, Deleted Like Trash

I spun around.

Eugene's face went stiff, just for a moment.

The planner's voice dropped even lower.

“Miss Swanson said earlier that it was too heavy, that it wasn't right for a wedding. And Mr. James said……to delete it.”

I looked at Eugene, and the whole banquet hall seemed to pull away all at once.

The month before my mother passed, her health was already failing. She sat up in her hospital bed and had my father help her record a video.

She said:

“Sally, Mom may not get to see you in your wedding dress.”

“But Mom hopes the man you marry truly cherishes you.”

That video, I had never been able to bring myself to watch.

I thought that on my wedding day, she would be with me in her own way.

But Eugene deleted it, only because Sheila found it heavy.

I asked him:

“Is it true?”

Eugene opened his mouth.

“At the time I just thought a wedding should be a happy occasion.”

I laughed a little, and the tears fell anyway.

“The last thing my mother left me, and you just deleted it.”

His face turned ashen.

I said:

“Eugene, this isn't a wedding being called off.”

“It's you, completely out.”

That night I didn't go back to the marital home. I went with my father to the old house.

He didn't say a word the whole way. Once we were inside, he took off that new suit and hung it over the back of a chair.

The suit still held its shape, but he seemed to have aged all at once.

“Sally.”

He called to me.

“Did your dad trust him too much, all this time?”

I sat on the couch and shook my head.

“I'm the one who trusted too much.”

My father crouched in front of the coffee table and dug out an old tin box. Inside were photos of my mother from years ago, and a worn-out USB drive.

“That video of your mom's, Dad still has a copy right here.”

He put the drive into my hand.

“She was afraid the wedding people would lose it, so she had me save one too. She said, Sally's careless, and if one day she misses her mom, she should have something to hold on to.”

I gripped that little drive, and the tears crashed down all at once.

My mother always said I was careless, but after she was gone, I remembered what everyone liked.

Eugene didn't eat cilantro, his shirts had to be pressed on low heat, he couldn't drink milk before a meeting.

Sheila only had to say one line, “I don't feel well,” and he would drop everything and rush to her.

My father patted my shoulder.

“No wedding, then. Dad's glad.”

I looked up at him. His eyes were red, but he managed a small smile.

“It's not like nobody wants my daughter. Why should she marry into that house just to be treated badly?”

That was the moment I finally cried out loud.

The next day I went to the bridal shop. The clerk saw me and went very careful.

“Miss Sullivan, are you here to pick up the main gown?”

“Returning it.”

I handed over the contract.

“The wedding's off.”

The clerk went quiet for a few seconds, then pulled out the cancellation form.

As I signed, I saw a line in the notes field of the system.

“Main gown alternate: mermaid style, adjusted per Miss Swanson's taste.”

My fingers stopped.

“Miss Swanson?”

The clerk hesitated a long time before turning the computer toward me.

“Miss Sullivan, this is your wedding dress after all. I think you have the right to know.”

The notes said it plainly:

“Miss Swanson suggests switching to the mermaid style.”

“Miss Swanson feels the mother's blessing video is bad luck and advises against playing it.”

“Mr. James confirms: go with Sheila's opinion.”

Something closed around my throat.

On the seventeenth of last month, my fever hit a hundred and two. I texted Eugene:

“Can you come home early?”

He said:

“Client dinner. Can't get away.”

So his client was Sheila.

After I finished signing the form, the clerk suddenly said:

“Miss Sullivan, you really did look beautiful in that gown.”

I paused.

“Thank you.”

When I stepped outside, Eugene was standing at the curb, a paper bag in his hand.

The moment he saw me, he came straight over.

“Sally.”

I didn't stop.

He blocked my way.

“I've cleared out all of Sheila's things. I changed the passcode to the house too. I'll deal with my mother.”

I looked at him.

“And then?”

His throat moved.

“Can we not call off the engagement? The wedding can be postponed. I'll do it all over again.”

“Do it over?”

I asked.

“My mother's video, can you give that back to me over again?”

His face went white.

“I didn't know that video meant so much to you.”

“The last blessing my mother left me, and you didn't know it mattered?”

He said nothing.

And all at once I saw it. He hadn't not known. He'd simply decided my pain was the quiet kind, quiet enough to overlook.

Eugene held out the paper bag.

“These are the photos from the bridal shop.”

I didn't take it.

He opened it himself. Inside was a fitting photo of me standing in front of the mirror in that satin gown, my back very straight.

Eugene's eyes went red.

“I shouldn't have left that day.”

I looked at the photo.

“Eugene, there were too many days you shouldn't have left.”

His hand froze in midair.

“Sally, I'll make it up to you.”

I shook my head.

“There's no making this up.”

He said quietly:

“Then what do you want me to do?”