Chapter 3

He looked at her. Held the silence for a few seconds.

Then he patted her shoulder, casual as ever. "Being maid of honor is exhausting. Get some rest."

He paused. "Rain said she can't find a car. It's late — not safe for a girl to be out alone. I'll swing by and drop her off."

“Okay,” Ella said. Her voice was flat.

He didn’t move right away. He seemed to be waiting—for her to tell him to be careful, like she always did. Or to complain, with a little hurt in her voice, that it was too late to go out.

But Ella just opened the car door and stepped out.

The car pulled away behind her.

She closed the door and collapsed onto the sofa. She lay there for a long time. Then she got up and walked toward the bedroom.

She passed the room they had called “the nursery.” Her steps slowed.

They had planned it when they bought this house four years ago. A nursery. But there was no child now. The room had filled, instead, with boxes and clutter.

She walked inside. On the dusty crib, she found a stack of old things. Love letters in his handwriting. Movie tickets. Amusement park passes. Instant photos from their trips together.

At the bottom was a photo from their college graduation.

He was carrying her on his back under a cherry blossom tree. She had her arms around his neck. Her hair and the pink petals flew in the wind.

On the back, he had written in bold, careless strokes: *I’ll carry you forever. That’s a promise.*

The weak light from the living room fell on those words. Cold. Like a silent mockery.

Like a joke that had stopped being funny a long time ago.

From downstairs, she heard the faint sound of a car pulling into the garage. She stayed where she was, just listening.

The key turned in the lock. Footsteps, deliberately light. After a moment, the door pushed open.

He stood in the doorway. “Not asleep yet?”

She didn’t turn around. She stayed crouched by the crib. “No.”

“What made you dig these out?” His voice was light. “Feeling nostalgic?”

She didn’t answer his question. She asked quietly, “Did you get her home?”

He paused. Then he explained, “Yeah. She lives far. It really is hard to get a taxi there.”

“Oh.”

She looked down again and carefully stacked the photos back in place.

“It’s late,” he said again. This time he reached out to pull her up.

She didn’t take his hand. She pushed herself up on her knees, wincing a little. Her legs had gone numb from crouching so long, and she swayed.

“Nate.”

“Yeah?” He stopped walking.

“Let’s break up.”

He stopped moving. He looked at her for two seconds. Then he laughed.

He reached up and loosened his tie. “Still thinking about the bouquet? Don’t be so sensitive.”

His voice was patient, the way you soothe a child throwing a tantrum. “Fine. I’ll order you a bigger one tomorrow, okay? Now go wash up and get some sleep. I have an early meeting.”

He turned and walked toward the bathroom.

“One week,” Ella said to his back.

Her voice was quiet.

“I’m getting married.”