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Thanks for Stepping Aside Novel Cover

Thanks for Stepping Aside

For eight years, the protagonist has stood by Rolf Trivett, yet their twentieth trip to City Hall ends in familiar disappointment. Every time they prepare to legalize their union, Rolf prioritizes his chronically ill childhood friend over their future. When she finally questions if his lifelong vow to another woman precludes their marriage, Rolf reacts with fury. He labels her selfish and dismisses the importance of a certificate after nearly a decade together.
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Chapter 4

Sensing my change in mood, Rolf suddenly became lively again.

He said while pointing, "Gloria, look at that pavilion. Couples love taking pictures there, especially with today's clouds.

"And over there, that arched bridge—Miranda loves it. You can hear the sound of the stream underneath."

The moment I heard her name, my chest clenched instinctively, but I kept my face calm.

Rolf, on the other hand, suddenly covered his mouth in panic.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring her up."

I shook my head, but a dull ache bloomed in my chest.

Even though I'd told myself a hundred times not to care, not to get caught up in it… after eight years of loving him, who could accept even their last dinner together being filled with memories of someone else?

Rolf finally fell quiet and led me to our table. He carefully ordered a long list of dishes, but not a single one of them was something I actually liked.

Over the years, I'd come to know all of Miranda's favorites by heart. He recited them like the list had been carved in his brain.

Everything he did had her name written all over it. His heart was full of her, even when he didn't say it out loud.

But for once, I didn't say a word. I just sat there quietly and waited for the food.

Rolf seemed to notice something was off. He looked up and asked, "Is there anything else you want to add?"

I shook my head. After all these years of eating things I never liked, I'd just gotten used to it. How pathetic.

Once the waiter left, Rolf looked embarrassed, his face flushed red.

I glanced at him in confusion, only for him to pull out a pair of rings like he was performing a magic trick.

"Gloria, I know I've kept breaking my promises. Miranda's health hasn't been great, and her parents are never around. Since we've known each other forever, I just couldn't leave her.

"You've been obsessed with marriage, right? So let's just put the rings on. It's just the paperwork that's missing—it's basically the same thing.

"What do you think?"

That last line was just to soften the blow, in case I didn't take it well. I gave a bitter smile and looked up at the man sitting across from me.

He had this unshakable confidence, like he already knew I would say yes.

Why would he think that? Was it because I'd spent eight years chasing after him, because I was a pushover, or because I deserved being taken for granted?

But it wasn't about the paper. What I wanted was to be treated fairly, to have someone who loved me and only me.

Right then, the thought of breaking up filled my head, the words of rejection on the edge of my lips.

Rolf sat smiling, waiting for my answer.

But before I could speak, the ringtone cut through the moment, loud and abrupt.

He answered in a panic. I didn't even need to guess. The only one who could make him react like that was Miranda.

A second later, her voice came through the phone, clear and dramatic.

"Rolf, I feel terrible… I think I'm dying."

Rolf jumped to his feet, knocking the dishes off the table. He grabbed his keys and rushed out.

He didn't even glance back. It was quick, without hesitation—just like yesterday.

We were halfway to City Hall, and all it took was a phone call for him to want to leave.

I'd been stood up twenty times, and every single time, it was because he ran off to take care of Miranda.

That was why yesterday, I couldn't take it anymore and asked him, "If she's never going to get better, does that mean you'll never marry me? What am I to you?"

Rolf immediately lost his temper and yelled at me, telling me to get out of the car. "I've already promised to take care of her for life. Can you stop being so selfish?

"Besides, we've been together for eight years. What difference does it make if we don't get this certificate? Get out. Don't make me say it again."

He knew it had been eight years—countless nights I cried into my pillow, hating him and hating myself for being powerless but unable to let go, even when I wanted to.

"Hi, would you still like your meal?"

The waiter's careful voice pulled me back to reality. That loud scene had drawn a lot of attention. I could feel people staring—some with pity, some with relief that they weren't me.

I nodded and forced the food down, each bite tasteless like wax.

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