Time to Wake Up

With shaking hands, I turned off the laptop and went to pack up my things.

Only then did I realize that I'd bought most of my stuff in pairs. Only I used them, though; Harold never used the items I'd prepared for him.

He was obviously cold to me, but I'd always ignored those subtle signs.

I tossed all the matching couple stuff into the bin and packed everything else before texting my best friend, Jane Ramsey. "Do you want to meet up tonight?"

I would be heading to the mountains as part of an aid group later, so I wouldn't get to see her for a long time. I decided that I should say goodbye to her properly.

Soon after, Jane's reply came. A simple question mark, followed by a long message. "Aren't you busy organizing your wedding? Why are you suddenly free to meet up? Harold shouldn't have left everything to you, even though he's busy with work."

"Where are you? I'll drive over now."

We agreed to meet in a restaurant we frequented. The moment I walked in, she came forward and looped her arm through mine. "Congrats on getting married, finally," she said. "I still remember when you'd go home from work just to cook for Harold because he didn't like takeout food. You'd even given up on your illustrious career for him."

Worried that she'd confront Harold after hearing the truth, I said nothing. I forced a smile and raised my glass of wine, changing the topic. "Let's talk about something else," I said. "We aren't going home sober today, you hear me?"

Indeed, both of us got wasted before calling a cab home. I stumbled toward the door and pushed it open, only to see Harold's face alight with fury.

"Who's that guy?" he accused. "You're getting married soon! What are you doing, drinking with a man until the dead of the night?"

His grip was tight around my wrist, the pain sobering me up somewhat. "He's the cab driver," I replied.

Harold's fury subsided, and he let go of me. It was a rare occasion, it seemed—he went into the kitchen and made me eggs and bacon. Greasy food always helped when I was drunk.

"I explained everything to Elise just now," he began. "She still wants to be your maid of honor."

When I stared into his eyes silently, he averted his gaze. He then caught sight of the open suitcase in the corner of the room.

He took the chance to change the topic, saying with a frown, "Did you arrange for a honeymoon behind my back?"

When I shook my head, he pointed at the suitcase, appearing perplexed. "What's this, then? By the way, I feel like a lot of the stuff at home is gone. Are you going on a long trip?"

"The suitcase's just there." I waved my hand. "I cleared some random stuff lying around. Don't worry about it."

Before he could doubt my words, Harold was distracted by the red mark on my ring finger. He grabbed my hand and asked, his eyes reddening, "Where's the ring I gave you? Why aren't you wearing it?"

Right now, I understood him somewhat—lying came easily to me after the first time. "It's so tight that it makes my finger hurt, so I took it off."

Seemingly relieved, he left a tender kiss on the tip of my finger. "It's too late to have one custom-made now," he said. "I'll give you a better one after the wedding."

He was so deep in the act. If I didn't know the truth, I would surely be touched to tears.

He seemed uneasy upon noticing the lack of expression on my face. He wanted to say something, but the phone rang. After taking the call, he hastily put on his coat and turned to leave.

"The power went out at Elise's place, and she's scared," he explained. "I'm going there to see what I can do."

He left and never came back until just before the wedding.

I boarded my plane on the big day. The moment I settled down on my seat, I was bombarded by numerous calls and WhatsApp messages.

Annoyed, I went to block him, only to accidentally accept his call instead. He was crying, it seemed; his voice was shaking. "Where did you go, darling?"