Can Tab Proposal? I'm Out

Night had fallen, and snowflakes drifted through the dark sky.

I pulled my coat tighter and called my mom.

"I'll leave the wedding planning to you."

She paused. "Alright. I'll send you Joe's contact soon. No matter what, I'm just glad you've come around."

That was it—just a few reminders before she hung up.

Thanks to Henry, I couldn't care less about the future anymore. I used to fight against meeting the guy my parents picked for me. But now? No matter how bad he was, he had to be better than Henry.

The walk home wasn't far, but I stretched it into two hours.

When I finally got back, Henry was still MIA. The place looked exactly the same—his clothes still scattered on the floor.

Before, I would've picked them up without thinking, tossed them in the wash like it was my job. Now? I just felt like an idiot.

So I walked straight to the bedroom and dumped them all in the trash.

The candlelit dinner I'd carefully prepared? That went in, too.

I'd imagined coming home after the proposal, starting our happily ever after. Turns out, that was just my own stupid fantasy.

Before bed, I mindlessly scrolled through social media.

Cecilia had posted updates, of course:

[Thank you, Henry, for your love. You made this an unforgettable birthday.]

[The dress is beautiful, I love it. I hope next year's birthday will be just as special—someone by my side, a wonderful surprise.]

And then, right below, Henry's comment.

The same man who had always been so private suddenly had no problem making his feelings for her public. The same man who never once acknowledged me, no matter how much I begged.

[Cece, tonight, you're the most beautiful princess.]

Just a few words, but they cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

Everything I had begged for, Cecilia got without even trying.

No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't figure out what made me so much less than her.

I told myself Henry wasn't worth my tears, but five years with him said otherwise. My pillow was drenched—again—like I could wring it out.

***

It was nearly midnight when Henry finally stumbled in, the cold clinging to him. Instinctively, I shifted away.

But his hands were already on me, pulling me back into his arms. His breath was warm against my skin as he whispered, voice low and teasing.

"Still mad about tonight, hmm?"

When I didn't answer, he nipped at my earlobe. "Why so quiet?"

Disgusted, I shoved his hand off and yanked myself free.

Cecilia's perfume clung to him, thick and suffocating. The scent curled in my throat, nausea hitting so hard I nearly gagged.

"Henry, let's break up."

Lying on my back, I stared at the ceiling, my voice steady, my eyes calmer than they'd ever been.

Henry sat up abruptly and turned on the light, glaring at me.

"Are you insane? You're breaking up over this? You're being ridiculous. Fine, I'll just pick another day to propose."

The warmth in his voice was gone, replaced by sharp impatience.

He still refused to see it—how his thing with Cecilia had long since crossed the line. But admitting it? Not a chance.

I was done arguing. He could think whatever he wanted.

"Yeah, I'm being ridiculous," I said flatly. "So go find someone more understanding—like Cecilia."