The Unfulfilled Wedding

...

My mom's enthusiasm about my marriage amused me.

"You and Dad pick. You've got better taste," I replied.

I'd been burned picking men. I preferred not to do that again.

After a moment of silence, she sighed, "Trust me. Desmond isn't the right person for you. When he visited, he acted like we were looking down on him, almost giving your dad a heart attack."

My chest ached at her words.

In our fifth year together, Desmond agreed to meet my parents, but he thought they looked down on him.

He was cold to them and threw a fit when we got back.

Gathering my thoughts, I reassured her, "Don't worry. I've quit my job, and I'm booking my plane ticket."

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing Desmond's angry face.

He yanked me inside, and before he could speak, I turned off my phone.

"What is wrong with you?" he snapped. "I told you to come back early to clean Bruce. Can't you even do that right? What are you good for?"

I had treated them like family and served them wholeheartedly for 13 years. Yet he treated me like a maid.

I raised my bandaged hand. "I fell and hurt my hand today. I just got back from the hospital, and I couldn't touch water for a while. You'll have to take care of him yourself. He is your family after all."

He frowned, looking at my hand. "How did you get hurt?"

Just then, his phone rang.

He glanced at me and answered. A sweet voice came through, echoing in the room.

"Desmond, come to the lab," Megan whined. "My data is messed up. The experiment is ruined. What should I do?"

He soothed her. "Don't fret. I'll be right there."

He hung up and looked at me. "Megan messed up an experiment. I've gotta go. You..."

Megan pulled this stunt a few times a month, calling him away with lab issues, plumbing problems, or health scares.

I couldn't be more familiar with it, but instead of stopping him, I waved him off with a smile. "Go ahead. She's probably freaked out."

He heaved a sigh of relief and rushed out.

My smile faded, and I booked a flight for next Wednesday, which was six days away.

During this period, I needed to obliterate all my traces, starting with my clothes.

I donated the newer ones and dumped the older ones.

On my last trip to the garbage, I saw Desmond walking up with Megan.

I pretended not to see them, heaving the old clothes by the dumpster.

"What are you throwing out?" he asked.

I kept my tone flat. "Old clothes. Just tidying up."

He didn't think much about it. "I brought Megan to grab some files."

Megan flashed a sweet smile, standing just inches away from him. The jacket she was wearing? Desmond's.

I'd scrimped and saved to buy it for his birthday, and now, it was on another woman.

Megan, catching my sharp gaze, stammered, "Uh, it was cold getting out of the car, so Desmond lent me his jacket. I'll take it off."

She sounded hurt, as if I were bullying her.

Desmond stopped her from removing it, then glared at me. "Come on! It's just a jacket. You're making a big deal out of it."

I pushed the clothes into the dumpster, dusting my hands. "I didn't say anything. Your jacket, your call. Well, I'm heading back. Still got trash to toss."

I walked away, but he followed without Megan.