The Bride Who Called Off the Wedding

3: 3

The front door slammed shut in the entryway.

Otto left me with a single line:

"You're too worked up right now. I'm not going to argue with you."

I didn't ask where he was going.

Because on my phone, Lois's post had already popped up, right on cue.

*Ooh, look who came to keep Daddy warm.*

In the photo, Otto was wrapped in a thick blanket, holding Lois close against him.

Otto had always hated the heat.

Eight years together, and even on the nights my period left me shivering, he'd never once held me while I slept.

I switched the phone off and tossed it aside.

I lay back down and curled myself into a ball.

The foot that slipped out from under the blanket went cold in the draft.

Somewhere between sleeping and waking, it was as though I'd gone back to the winter Otto and I first met.

The year I was ten, my mother died of an illness.

My father, busy with his business, sent me back to my grandparents in the countryside.

Back then I was still drowning in the grief of losing her, glum all day, head always down, not the kind of child anyone warmed to.

A few of the mean kids fixed on me.

In the dead of winter, they rigged a bucket of water on the door frame and dumped it all over me.

They circled me, spinning around, jeering.

"Dirty outsider, get out of our class."

"Ha, she looks so ugly now. What if we rip her coat off her?"

I hugged myself, helpless, crouched on the ground and shaking.

At my lowest, Otto dropped out of nowhere like a hero and drove them off.

Even as a kid he was a head taller than everyone.

With the light behind him, when he crouched down and pulled me to my feet, that tall shape carved itself deep into my heart.

He said, "If anyone bullies you from now on, come find me. I'm in the class right next to yours."

He said, "Oh… your mom passed away? Don't be sad. You can come to my house, and I'll give you half of mine."

He said, "You don't really have friends in class? It's fine, I'll hang out with you. Having me as a friend is enough!"

A boy's heart, so earnest and so warm.

With Otto beside me, I slowly climbed out from under the shadow of my mother's death, slowly stood up straight at school and lifted my head again.

Until the next year, when Lois transferred to our school too.

That day after class, I went to find him to walk home together, like always.

He nervously pulled me off to the side.

"Margie, there's a new girl who transferred into our class. She's so pretty."

"I want to be her friend."

It was the first time I'd ever seen that look on Otto's face.

Nervous, shy, unsure. Nothing I'd ever seen in the way he was with me.

Only later did I learn that look on Otto's face had a name. Being smitten.

And the feeling in me, bitter and tingling, like biting into bitter melon,

that was called a secret crush.

After that, the carton of milk that used to come with the breakfast Otto brought me every morning went missing, and showed up on Lois's desk instead.

The snacks the teacher gave him for improving his grades went to Lois first now; I only got two pieces of candy.

In time, I got used to being the one he passed over.

And yet, later, of all people, it was me Otto confessed to…

When I jolted awake from the dream, it was only four in the morning.

I tossed and turned and couldn't fall back asleep, so I just got up and started packing.

The flight home was booked for a week from that morning.

I hadn't told the relatives yet. I genuinely didn't know how to say it.

Lucky for me, most of what Otto had given me were practical, good-value things.

None of the flashy little trinkets girls usually love, which made the packing a lot easier.

By eight in the morning, everything was packed.

Lois had posted again.

Otto, who never cooked, in an apron, carefully ladling porridge for her.

I liked the post.

Then I turned and directed the movers to carry everything out, piece by piece.

A little while later, every trace of me had vanished from the apartment.

The instant I stepped out of that place, the company sent through my job transfer paperwork.

The truth was, I'd stopped being an ordinary back-office clerk a long time ago.

After the transfer, I closed out a major project, and I was now the company's Director of Operations.

Otto just never knew.

Every time I wanted to share something about work with him, he'd cut me off without mercy.

"What work problems could a clerk possibly have? Don't waste my time with pointless office gossip."

Then he'd turn right around and talk shop with Lois, one project after another, both of them lit up about it.

A notification popped up on my laptop.

*Your transfer request has been approved. Please report to the Southport branch by the 8th of next month.*