Five Years, Three Canceled Weddings, One Goodbye

The next morning.

I went straight to the office and handed in my resignation.

My coworkers were curious. "Are you quitting because you're getting married?"

I nodded. If I was going back to Southport for an arranged marriage, there was no reason to keep this job.

They all congratulated me, said my husband must love me a lot if he didn't want me working so hard.

I just smiled and didn't explain.

After I finished the paperwork and left, I ran into Brenna Whitfield.

"So you figure life's set once you marry Stanley, and now you're quitting to be a full-time wife?"

"Makes sense. When ordinary people like you finally land a rich heir, of course you cling on for dear life."

I ignored her. But she looked at the bracelet on my wrist and gave a knowing little smile. "That's the bracelet Stanley gave me when he confessed to me back then. I didn't take it. It suits you, actually."

I glanced down at the silver bracelet on my wrist. He'd given it to me the day I agreed to be his girlfriend. So it had really been Brenna's castoff?

Strangely, I wasn't surprised.

I just looked at her, at how much she wanted to provoke me. "You make Stanley delay the wedding over and over, again and again. It's all so I'll understand that between you and me, Stanley will always choose you, isn't it?"

"You don't have to work so hard anymore. Stanley. I don't want him. If you want him, go ahead and take him."

Brenna sneered. "Who are you kidding? Five years with Stanley, and you'd just let go?"

I didn't answer her. I slid the bracelet off, dropped it into her hand, turned, and walked away.

Back home, I packed my documents. Everything else, the cups, the toothbrush, the clothes, everything tied to those five years, I threw in the trash.

Then I cooked one last dinner. Five years together, I thought. At least we could break up with some dignity.

Stanley came home with a sour face. "What did you say to Brenna at the office today?"

I opened my mouth and he cut me off. "Brenna already said she's staying out of our wedding from now on. She's home crying by herself. Are you happy now?"

I took a deep breath. "Stanley, sit down. There's something I need to tell you."

"It's about the wedding again, isn't it? Wait until Brenna's calmed down."

"She's still crying right now. I have to go comfort her first."

He glanced at the garlic butter shrimp I'd made on the table. "Brenna loves this dish. I'll take it over to her. Just eat by yourself tonight."

I couldn't stop myself. "I spent a long time cleaning those shrimp to make that…"

His voice jumped several notches. "It's just postponing the wedding once. It's not like we haven't done it before. You're really going to nickel-and-dime me over a plate of shrimp?"

"Nora, you know I can't stand it when someone makes a fuss."

I looked at the impatience in his eyes and wanted so badly to ask him: wasn't Brenna the one making a fuss, dragging our wedding out again and again?

But it felt pointless.

I looked at the shrimp hanging from his hand.

It had been flown in fresh that morning. We'd agreed to have it together tonight.

"Nora, take some time and think it through yourself. When you've come around, we'll talk about the wedding. I won't be home tonight. Don't keep calling me. It kills the mood."

The last thread of hope in me went slack. "Fine."

He remembered to go comfort Brenna, but forgot he was supposed to have dinner with me.

He didn't notice the wedding banners and the wedding photos stripped from the room either.

Didn't notice the suitcase beside me.

His attention had never once been on me.

When you're disappointed all the way to the bottom, a hope that goes unanswered somehow stops being so hard to bear.

It was only that the dignified breakup I'd wanted never made it out of my mouth.

I watched the room settle back into quiet, the food on the table untouched.

And something in me let go.

When it was time to leave for the airport, I sent Stanley one message. "Let's break up!"

Blocked. Deleted. Powered off.

The city shrank in my window as the plane climbed higher and higher.

And those five years seemed to fade with it, until they were a single black dot, and then nothing at all.