"I just didn't want Evelyn Simmons to go through what you went through. Can't you understand that?"

I looked down at the scar on the back of my hand, and something bitter spread through me.

Of course I hadn't forgotten. The man had been notorious in the industry back then, known for never keeping his hands to himself.

The moment the project was assigned to me, I told Felix.

We'd agreed: if the man ever tried anything, I'd send him three random numbers as a signal, and he'd come up right away to get me out.

But when the day came, I sent message after message. Not a single reply. Forget coming to save me.

In the end it was a pot of boiling water on the table that saved me.

While the man screamed, I stumbled out the door and ran down the stairs.

Only to find Felix slumped in the driver's seat, fast asleep.

I didn't wake him. With shaking hands, I called the police.

He only stirred when the officers arrived.

At the hospital he cried and apologized, saying work had been crushing lately, that he hadn't been sleeping, that he'd only meant to close his eyes for a minute and had drifted off by accident.

Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, at how exhausted and guilty he seemed, I forgave him in the end.

And now he was pouring that same guilt into making it up to someone else.

And still expected me to understand. To forgive.

Reading my silence as surrender, a faint smile crept onto his face.

"Don't be angry, Bee. I'll apologize to your parents properly in a bit. We'll pick another day for the engagement, and this time I'll be there for every—"

"There's no need. There's nothing left between us."

I forced down the catch in my throat, pulled my hand free from his, and cut him off in a flat voice.

"Check your account. See if the wedding money's gone through."

"And once it has, get out of my family's home."

Felix's face changed. He glanced at the text on his phone and shot to his feet.

"Bianca! Eight years together, and you really want to break up with me?"

The words had barely left him when crying drifted in from the living room.

I didn't answer. I just pulled the door open and walked toward the sound.

The door stood open. On the coffee table sat a fruit basket and a case of milk.

My mother sat on the sofa. My father stood in the kitchen doorway in his apron, his face dark.

Evelyn wrung her fingers, eyes rimmed red, her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry, sir, ma'am. Today was my fault."

"I shouldn't have asked Mr. Heath to come with me. Please don't be upset."

I turned to look at Felix.

"You told her to come?"

"Felix, is there something wrong with your head?"

Seeing me, Evelyn hurried forward.

"Bianca, please don't blame Mr. Heath. I came on my own."

"I really didn't know today was your engagement with Mr. Heath. If I'd known, I never would have asked him to help me."

"I won't do it again next time—"

"Next time?"

I let out a low, soft laugh and cut her off.

"Should I expect a next time at the wedding, then? Or maybe the wedding night?"

"Miss Simmons depends on your Mr. Heath so much, the two of you might as well just be together every single day."

Evelyn's head came up, and the tears trembling in her eyes spilled over all at once.

"Bianca, I know you resent me because of today, but you can't say things like that about me."

"It was my first business trip, and it was in Mr. Heath's hometown. He's the only person I know there—"

Before I could answer, Felix stepped forward and put himself in front of Evelyn.

He stared at me, his voice low and heavy.

"Bianca, doesn't everything have a limit?"

"Why are you picking on a kid like this?"

I lifted my head and looked at him, steady, even as my nose began to sting.

"I'm giving her a hard time?"

"That's right."

"Apologize to her!"

Felix turned his body, leaving only half of Evelyn's face visible.

"If you don't apologize, I'll—"

"You'll what to my daughter?!"

My father rushed in from the kitchen and pulled me behind him, his stooped shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

He'd lived most of his life without ever raising his voice at anyone. Now he was shouting.

"Felix! I'm still alive, and I don't need you to discipline my child!"

My mother stood up from the couch too and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

Felix took two steps back, his words tumbling out fast and rattled.

"Sir, ma'am, that's not what I meant—"

Before he could finish, Evelyn bit her lip, looked at him, and shook her head.

"Everything that went wrong is because I'm not good enough. I'm the one who should apologize to Bianca and her family."

As she said it, she turned, opened the high-proof whiskey my father had kept in the cabinet for years—the bottle he'd saved to celebrate my engagement to Felix—tipped her head back, and drank.

The first mouthful made her clutch her chest and cough.

A few seconds later, her pale skin began to flush.

"She's allergic to alcohol!"

Felix reacted fast, snatching the bottle out of her hand and hurling it to the floor.

It shattered against the ground, the smell of whiskey spreading through the room.

He swept Evelyn up in his arms and strode for the door, not forgetting to grab the bag she'd left in the entryway and sling it over his shoulder.

Just as he was about to step out, he turned back.

"Bee, I'm taking her to the hospital first. You and your parents calm down."

"I'm not agreeing to a breakup."

"Wait for me to come back."

And with that, he walked out without a moment's hesitation, his stride long.

I looked at the broken glass and the spilled whiskey on the floor, a bitterness climbing up my throat, took my parents' hands, and said,

"Dad, Mom, didn't you two want to go stay down south for a while?"

"A friend of mine runs a company down there, and he's short-staffed right now. He's asked me to come head it up."

"If you're up for it, you can leave tonight. Once I hand off my work here, I'll come find you?"

The two of them exchanged a glance, and my mother nodded.

"Sure. Your dad and I haven't taken a single trip since we retired anyway."

So my father went to the kitchen to bring out the food, my mother packed, and I cleaned up the mess.

Then I took out my phone and texted that friend back, asked him to arrange things for my parents, and changed the lock code on the apartment door.

After dinner, I saw the two of them onto their flight and went back to the city where the company was.

By the time I arrived, it was already eight at night.

Cabs were lined up outside the airport, and a young college couple was walking ahead of me.

The girl was perched on her suitcase. The boy carried her backpack on his back, held her half-finished iced latte in one hand, and pushed the suitcase with the other.

The two of them talked and laughed, and passersby kept turning to look.

Watching them from behind, I suddenly thought back to the first two years Felix and I were together.

Back then, we'd just started college.

After his mother had a child with her current husband, she cut him off—no more living expenses, no more tuition.

Not yet twenty, he ran himself ragged between classes and part-time jobs.

And since we were dating, there were meals and dates, of course, and his expenses jumped all at once.

Knowing the pressure he was under, my parents gave me a sum of money—a dating fund—to spend when the two of us went out.

But after a few times, Felix noticed something was off.

From then on, every time we went out to eat, he'd make an excuse to leave the table, pay the bill ahead of time, and come back.

When dinner was over and I went to settle the bill, I found it had already been paid.

He took my hand, his eyes earnest.

"Bee, I'm your boyfriend. More than that, I'm your future husband."

"I know it bothers you to let me pay, but this is what a man's supposed to do."

"All those gifts I give you, whatever they cost, you don't have to pay me back with something of equal value."

"That would only make us feel like strangers. I want us to grow closer than before, to lean on each other more."

Later, he started a business at school and made some money.

Whatever was the popular gift to give your girlfriend at the time, I had it.

After graduation, we rented a small place in this city and started living together.

And I, watching what he did for me, slowly began to lean on him.

We had our fights over the little frictions of daily life, but we also studied the things the other person liked.

As the years stacked up, I started to notice it: he didn't put his heart into me the way he used to, didn't watch my moods the way he once had.

Back then I told myself that in the adult world, dwelling too much on things like that only sent couples down separate roads.

So we went on like that, until we'd reached the age when you're supposed to get married.

I'd always assumed we'd get married this year, with our family and friends there to see it, and maybe have a sweet little baby the next.

It took my mother's words at today's engagement ceremony to wake me up.

A person who truly loves you doesn't grow contemptuous just because you've become familiar.

And he certainly doesn't treat your parents that way.

I picked up my pace, walked past the two of them, and flagged down a taxi.

I'd barely shut the door when Felix's call came through.

I looked at the little heart after his name in my contacts, and I didn't pick up.

He called four or five times in a row. I hung up on every one.

A few minutes later, an unknown local number came through. Without thinking, I tapped to answer.

Before I could say anything, Felix's voice was already there.

"Bianca, are you done throwing your fit?"

"You change the lock code without a word, and now you won't even take my calls!"

The impatience in his voice was unmistakable.

"I brought Evelyn here to apologize to you. Open the door."

"I can't," I said. "That door is never opening for you again."

He let out a scoffing laugh.

"Bianca, when did you turn into this?"

"You're a grown woman. You want to break up with me over one engagement ceremony I missed, a show staged for other people to watch?"

"And you even dragged your parents into it. Don't you think that's ridiculous?"

"It isn't just about the engagement ceremony."

I looked out at the night scrolling backward past the window, my voice steady.

"It's about the man you used to be."

That stopped him for a second.

"The man I used to be? What are you talking about?"

I turned the engagement ring on my finger and said, quietly,

"You remember our first year of college, you told me you hoped we'd grow more familiar than we were before we got together, that we'd lean on each other more."

"For eight years, I did that. You didn't."

"If anything, all of it just made you look down on me."

The line went quiet for a long while, and then he laughed under his breath.

"Bianca, all that, and it comes down to this?"

"Who treats you the same way they did at the start after seven or eight years together? Watch fewer of those sappy little inspirational videos and clips."

"You're almost thirty, and you embarrass your aunt and uncle with your tantrum. Doesn't any of that make you feel guilty?"

"Fine, then let's just go get the license. I'll be waiting for you at the L.A. courthouse tomorrow afternoon."

Even though I'd already braced myself to leave him, hearing those words, it was as if my breath stopped.