Seven Years, Then I Walked Away

At the bottom of the resignation letter, I wrote:

*May the Gilbert Group rise and rise, and never betray the vows we made back then.*

And I, too, was going to go looking for the vows I once made.

I saved the file and closed the laptop.

Then I started making calls.

The wedding venue, the officiant, the photographer, every arrangement for the wedding, I canceled all of it.

I hung up the last call.

There was a sound at the entryway.

Roderick was home, and Bernice was right behind him.

"Still up?" His hand paused as he took off his shoes. "The dinner ran late, and her place is too far. I brought her back to stay the night."

"Oh."

Bernice peeked out timidly. "Lottie, will I be in your way?"

"Yes."

She froze, her eyes going a little red, and turned with her bag in hand. "Then I'll go right now."

"It's fine." He stopped her, unwrapped a fresh pair of slippers for her. "Go take a shower first."

She kept her head down and said quietly, "I don't have anything to sleep in."

He dug a silk nightgown out of the closet. "Wear this for now."

That nightgown, he'd bought it for me when he landed his first contract after starting the company.

"Lottie, we're going to keep getting better and better. So good that you'll never have to lie awake at night worrying about our future again."

Later I had more and nicer nightgowns, but I'd always kept that one carefully, couldn't bring myself to throw it out.

And now he'd dug it out to put another woman in it.

The bathroom door closed.

He saw the look on my face and spoke first. "You haven't worn that thing in ages, have you? And it's old anyway. No harm if it gets ruined."

"Don't be angry." He softened his voice and handed me a brown paper bag. "I bought you roasted chestnuts."

I glanced inside. More than half of them were already gone.

Half an hour earlier, I'd come across Bernice's post online.

In the photo, a pair of hands with clean, defined knuckles was patiently peeling open a chestnut.

The beaded prayer-bead ring on one finger was the birthday present I'd given him.

*Fresh out of the pan and still hot, and he still peels them for me. Being spoiled like a baby feels so nice.*

In his eyes, she deserved the first bite straight out of the pan, and I was only fit for the leftovers.

I didn't take it. "Save it for your secretary baby."

"What's gotten into you today?" His face darkened. "Because I brought her home?"

"She came to New York all alone to make it, with no one to lean on. Am I supposed to let her sleep on the street?"

"Lottie Fox, I remember you used to be pretty kind. When did you turn into this?"

Before, I probably would have told him.

There's a thing in this world called a hotel. No matter how bad it got, she'd never end up on the street.

But now I only said quietly, "Roderick, let's not get married."

For a second his expression went blank.

"Are you threatening me? Why?"

"Are you jealous of her too?" Something occurred to him, and his face got worse. "You know perfectly well I've always thought of her as a little sister."

Roderick had a younger sister. She died in an accident in middle school after being bullied.

He rarely brought it up. Only now and then, when he'd been drinking, would he say with red eyes, "If she were still alive, she'd have finished college by now."

The day Bernice came in to interview, he decided to keep her the moment he laid eyes on her.

Because she looked so much like his sister.

It hurt me for his sake, so even though she'd failed the interview, I didn't object.

At first I only thought his care for her was a shadow of a brother's love for a sister, nothing to make a fuss over.

But as he tipped the scales further and further toward her, it slowly became unbearable.

The feeling was like a fish bone stuck in my throat.

I couldn't swallow it and couldn't spit it out, and I couldn't very well go around holding my mouth open for everyone to look inside.