She Regretted It When I Got Engaged

Before leaving, she still managed to offer a polite, almost rehearsed reminder.

“Rest well. Sometimes, neighbors are closer than family. Call me if you need anything.”

The doctor, noticing my strained smile, quipped with a chuckle, “Is your neighbor trying to win your heart? She’s too good at acting indifferent—makes you seem like you’re no one to her.”

The sting of his casual remark shattered any illusion I had tried to maintain. The truth behind his words cut deeply, unraveling the facade I had desperately clung to.

Odessa had always been a masterful actress. If the doctor hadn’t walked in, her performance would have gone unnoticed. For five years, she had kept our relationship a closely guarded secret. Every time I suggested we go public, she would artfully dodge the conversation with excuses—claims about timing, her career, or some other convenient reason. Each excuse chipped away at my confidence, leaving me to compromise again and again. Eventually, I questioned what I truly meant to her, even in my dreams.

Now, I had my answer. When she thought I’d lost my memory, she revealed her true feelings. To her, I was just a neighbor.

Thankfully, my injuries from the fall weren’t severe, and after three days of observation, the doctor discharged me. The hospital refunded the extra payments Odessa had made, and without hesitation, I transferred the amount back to her account.

Three days of silence passed before she finally called.

“You didn’t tell me you were getting discharged!” Her tone carried a hint of reproach. “I’ve been busy with work and couldn’t pick you up. The house is a mess, so stay at a hotel for now. I’ll send someone to clean up before bringing you home.”

“Okay,” I replied, swallowing the bitter urge to confront her.

But her location betrayed her words. She was at home, and in the background, a man’s voice echoed.

“Why isn’t the hot water running?”

She quickly hung up. It wasn’t hard to guess why she didn’t want me back at the house.

Soon after, she texted me the details of the hotel she’d arranged.

When I arrived, a bouquet of 99 roses awaited me in the lobby. Passersby admired the grand gesture, oblivious to the irony. These were the same flowers Odessa had once forbidden me to give her, fearing they might expose our relationship. Now, when I was resolved to let her go, she was finally treating me like someone worth envying.

Unmoved, I hired a courier to deliver the roses back to her house.

Later, the courier messaged me, almost as if out of sympathy:

“She looked thrilled when she saw the flowers. But then she jumped into her boyfriend’s arms. You can imagine the rest.”

Odessa, realizing her misstep, sent me a string of question marks, but I didn’t reply. Perhaps fearing I might show up at the house unannounced, she rushed to the hotel later that evening.

The first thing she did was confront me.

“Why did you send the flowers back home?” Her voice was sharp, her eyes probing mine for answers.

I met her gaze, my expression indifferent. “We’re just neighbors. It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to accept roses from you.”

Her confusion deepened. “You once said you wanted roses when you saw other men receiving them. What’s with the sudden change of heart? There’s no one else here—you don’t need to keep pretending we’re strangers.”

She didn’t understand that it was never about the roses themselves. What I wanted was for us to stand openly as a couple, for her to stop hiding me in the shadows.

The drive home was steeped in silence. Odessa kept glancing my way, but neither of us spoke. It was as though she assumed everything between us was still fine, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within me.

As we neared the neighborhood, her phone rang. That same man’s voice came through, speaking urgently. Without hesitation, she pulled the car to a stop and turned to me.

“I have something urgent came up at the office. Got to go handle it. The house is just a few miles away—you can walk, and I’m sure it’ll be good exercise for you.”

Without another word, she drove off, leaving me standing on the roadside. The wind whipped at my face as I watched her car disappear into the distance.