Donate a Kidney to His First Love? I'd Rather Walk Away

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On our engagement day, I couldn't reach Allan Gilbert.

A full table of guests stared at me with strange looks on their faces, and my father kept up an awkward, apologetic smile.

Then a text came through from Allan.

"Peggy Pruitt, come to the hospital right now."

Before I could even ask what had happened to him, a second text landed.

"Joyce urgently needs a healthy kidney. If you donate yours to her, we'll get married tomorrow."

1.

I stared at the message he'd sent, and for a long time I couldn't pull myself back together.

Donate a kidney?

And to his first love, no less.

I gripped my phone tight, aching in a way I couldn't put into words.

Ding.

Another message came in.

*Peggy, I'll give you one hour to think it over. If you don't agree, we're breaking up.*

Seeing those words, my tears finally slipped free before I could stop them, dropping onto the phone screen.

I'd thought today would be the perfect finish to our seven-year run together.

I'd even mapped out how the days ahead would be the beginning of our happiness.

But what he was doing now reminded me that all of it had only ever been my own wishful thinking.

His first love would always hold the number one place in his heart.

For her, our relationship could be a bargaining chip. For her, he could throw everything we had away.

Just then my father came over, and seeing my red-rimmed eyes, he asked quickly: "Peggy, this is a happy day, why are you crying? Why isn't Allan here yet? Is he stuck in traffic?"

The next second, the hotel manager walked up too, and asked politely: "Miss Pruitt, there are other clients waiting for the room after you. When will your engagement party be starting?"

I checked the time. Half an hour left until the appointed hour.

So I turned to the manager and answered apologetically: "I'm sorry, could you give me another half hour?"

"Of course."

The manager agreed easily and left the room.

When I turned back, all my family and friends were looking at me with congratulations in their eyes. I forced out a small smile. "Everyone must be hungry. Let's start eating."

The moment I said it, shock spread across every face.

I could read exactly what they were thinking underneath those expressions.

An engagement party with no groom to be engaged to—what kind of thing was that?

My father, seeing the grief all over my face, stepped away to smooth things over and explained to them: "My son-in-law's caught in traffic. Let's not wait on him."

Then he pulled me off into a corner, his eyes full of worry as he looked at me. "Peggy, did you and Allan have a fight?"

"I..."

Just as I was working out how to explain, Allan's call came through, and with it his threatening tone: "Peggy, a life's on the line here. Can you move faster?"

My father didn't hear what Allan said, but he could tell from my face that something was wrong between us, and he cleared his throat hard.

Allan clearly heard my father, and his pitch dropped at once. "Peggy, is your dad right there? Whatever you do, don't tell him about this. He already has a problem with me, and if he finds out, there's no way we'll ever get married."

I glanced at my father, remembering how, back then, just to be with Allan, I'd been ready to cut ties with him entirely.

I knew he still didn't like Allan, but I'd insisted on getting engaged to him anyway.

Back then, all my father said was: Peggy, if you're set on being with him, all I can do is give you my blessing, because you're my daughter. And if the day comes that he mistreats you, don't just take it. Your dad has your back...

"Peggy, Joyce really needs you. The engagement party is only a ceremony. Come to the hospital and donate the kidney first, and we'll go register at the county clerk's office tomorrow."

I asked him one thing. "Allan, have you thought this through?"

"I have. As long as you save Joyce, I'll agree to anything you say from now on."

A moment ago I'd still been comforting myself, telling myself he would never actually do this. Reality slapped that right out of me, and it stung.

Heh.

How ironic.

I steadied myself and said it word by word: "Allan, let's end it here."