The Best Kind of Lie

I rubbed my nose, grumbling as I pinched his waist.

"What's wrong?"

The man went silent for a moment before shaking his head.

"Nothing."

-

The light bulb at home was broken.

I looked up as he expertly climbed onto the dining table with a chair in hand, trying to fix the stubborn light that wouldn't turn on no matter what.

"Lance, tell me..." I fiddled with the packaging of the new light bulb, aimlessly mumbling, "Do you think rich people are just... better than everyone else?"

He tightened the bulb into place, and suddenly, I remembered how when we first got together, he didn't know how to do anything.

One stormy night, the power went out, and we huddled together in the living room corner. The next day, we realized the circuit breaker had simply been flipped off.

After that, he started learning how to fix things like this.

The light was fixed, and he looked down at me, signaling me to turn it on.

I pressed the switch, and the light flickered a few times before the living room was flooded with brightness again.

He jumped down, grabbed the cup of water I'd just drank from, and took a few sips.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, making him look unexpectedly attractive.

When he saw me staring at him, he sighed and answered, "What are you talking about? Everyone is equal."

"Okay. Lance..."

As he drank, he lifted his eyelids slightly to look at me.

"When are we getting married?"

He nearly spit out the water.

I knew the timing of my question wasn't great.

He was still working on his business, with little money. My mother said that she'd only consider him as my possible husband if he could afford to buy me breakfast worth at least twenty bucks every morning.

Right now, forget twenty bucks—we both had to think carefully about spending even five dollars on a bowl of soup.

"Lisa, about that..."

He habitually tapped his fingers on the table while thinking.

He tilted his head slightly, not looking at me.

"I need to prepare."

Yeah, he needed to prepare. Honestly, I trusted Lance. Even though he hadn't achieved much in these past years and we'd been living like broke college students, I still believed in him.

He'd been an outstanding student, known as one of the brightest talents at our university.

Even our stern, no-nonsense professor had said he was bound for greatness.

-

Just like that, the whole marriage conversation was postponed again.

Before bed, I flipped through the calendar. Lance and I had been together for over five years, yet we still hadn't met each other's parents.

I curled up in the soft, cozy bed and calculated how much I could still save after covering our daily expenses.

His backpack was almost falling apart, and I had been thinking of getting him a new one before the New Year.

-

Lance always left for work earlier than I did.

I was toasting a plain slice of bread while rubbing my messy hair, when, as usual, he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me.

He kissed different spots every day. Today, it was the tip of my ear.

He was supposed to leave, but now he lingered, leaning on the table for a bit too long.

After a pause, he asked, "Lisa, do you really hate liars?"

Sometimes, the questions he asked made no sense.

I nodded, tugging on his tie.

"What's wrong? Are you hiding something from me?"

His eyes, darker than usual, met mine as I pulled him closer. He stared at me without holding back. Then he smiled, looking like a sly fox.

"I'm not, honey."

He was obviously hiding something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

-

As usual, I clocked in at work right before the start of my shift.

But this time, there was something different on my desk.

A gift box, and inside it, a woman's handbag.

I asked around, but no one knew where it came from.

Yesterday, Margot had been all smug and arrogant, but today, she looked at me like I was her worst enemy.

I was even more confused.

Until the desk was gently knocked on.

"Hey, I picked out the bag for you. I hope you like it."