I Hope We Never Meet Again

With a sharp press on the gas, the car roared off, tires screeching as it disappeared into the distance.

Jess had left me alone in the cold, empty underground garage.

In that moment, I realized—I didn't want to let them off so easily.

By the time I returned home with my hands bandaged, Jess was already waiting at the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed. The moment she saw me, she rushed forward and threw herself into my arms, holding me tightly.

"I'm sorry, Grayson, I'm so sorry… I was just upset about you calling the police—I lost my head for a moment."

Her warm tears soaked through my shoulder as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"The moment I got your call, I told Sonny to take me there right away. But who knew you had already called the police? It was all just a mix-up, a misunderstanding. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

She looked at me carefully, gauging my expression. When I didn't react, she leaned into me, her voice soft and coaxing.

"We're about to get married… don't be angry anymore, alright? From now on, I won't go anywhere. I'll stay home and keep you company. Oh, right—I've prepared a surprise for you for Thanksgiving."

I lowered my gaze to her earnest performance, my heart utterly cold.

Forcing a tired smile, I reached out and patted her head.

"Okay. I've prepared a gift for you too."

Life seemed to return to its usual calm—if anything, it grew even sweeter than before.

But I noticed she checked her phone more and more frequently.

Often, when I wasn't looking, her fingers would move rapidly across the screen.

And on Sonny's social feed, more and more melancholic posts began to appear, as if in perfect coordination.

[Some people are destined to be nothing more than supporting characters in someone else's story.]

I looked at those affected words and felt nothing but ridicule.

Thanksgiving arrived quickly.

Both families gathered at a hotel for dinner. Some elders who had watched us grow up and a few close friends were invited as well.

It was, in essence, a small engagement banquet before the wedding.

Throughout the evening, Jess stayed obediently by my side.

From a delicate box, she took out a silver feather brooch.

"Look, I had this custom-made for you. Your favorite feather design—it goes perfectly with your suit today."

She rose onto her tiptoes and carefully pinned it to my chest, her eyes brimming with deep, unwavering affection. In that moment, she looked just like the woman I had loved for ten years—pure and passionate.

Even when she went on stage to give a speech, her gaze remained locked on me the entire time.

Her voice trembled as she spoke about our journey—from campus couple to wedding vows—about how hard those ten years had been.

The elders in the audience wiped away tears. Our friends looked deeply moved. Everyone was immersed in what seemed like our sincere love.

Everyone except Sonny. He stood alone in a corner, watching Jess on stage with a lonely expression.

The atmosphere reached its peak, and someone began to shout, "Propose! Propose!"

"Grayson, what are you waiting for?!"

A flush of excitement spread across Jess's cheeks. She turned to face me, her eyes filled with anticipation.

"Grayson," she said softly, "will you propose to me again?"

All eyes in the room fell on me.

Under their gaze, I smiled and walked onto the stage step by step, taking the microphone from her hand.

I looked at her hopeful face and spoke clearly, "I won't."

The air froze.

The smile on Jess's face stiffened. Thinking she had misheard, she asked again, "What did you say?"

"I said, I won't propose to you again. And I won't marry you."