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.

The lump in my throat hurt, and before the tears could fall, somehow I laughed.

"Felix Heath, I will never marry you."

I hung up, rolled down the window, slipped the ring off my finger, and threw it out.

The car pulled up at the entrance to my complex. The driver was a woman about my mother's age.

She looked at me and said gently,

"Sweetheart, you can't force a thing to cook right. I admire that you've got the guts to turn the page."

"The rest of your life—don't spend it just making do."

Something in me warmed, and I nodded hard.

I let myself in and turned on the lights, and there it was, the photo wall in the living room, every picture on its red backdrop.

From the first year to the seventh.

When I looked closely, I noticed how Felix had moved from cheek pressed against mine to an arm's length away.

This year's photo was supposed to be taken the day we got our marriage license. Now there was no chance for it, and no point.

I took every photo down and fed them into the shredder.

A few seconds later, all of it was confetti.

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and filled out a resignation form.

Minutes after I submitted it, my phone started buzzing.

I looked—it was Marcella Henson, my work buddy from HR.

I picked up, and her teasing voice came through.

"Bianca, didn't you go back to get engaged? Shouldn't you be in your soon-to-be fiancé's arms right about now?"

"Quitting this fast—don't tell me… don't tell me you're about to be a mom!"

"I'm not even ready to be a godmother yet!"

I let out a quiet laugh and said,

"You're getting ahead of yourself. The engagement's off. We broke up. Your godmother gig's going to have to wait a few years."

"What? What kind of garbage did he pull?"

I told her everything that had happened the day before, start to finish.

Marcella was grinding her teeth.

"I knew he was no good. At least you cut your losses in time!"

"You remember that day last month, the downpour? You went back to grab some files and got stuck at the office, and I came to get you."

"On my way home, I saw him outside his building, carrying some girl across the street on his back…"

My heart lurched, and my fingers shook a little.

"You're sure it was him?"

"I got it on video. I'll send it to you."

She was already sending it as she spoke.

Outside Felix's building, floodwater up over his shins, he carried Evelyn Simmons forward on his back.

She had her arms around his neck, her feet in their slip-on sandals swinging back and forth, laughing, having the time of her life.

I stared at the video and watched it over and over.

My chest went tight and heavy, and my heart slowly went numb.

That day I'd been stranded downstairs at the office. I'd tried for an hour to get a car, and no one would take the ride.

I'd called Felix. He said he was still on the road back from the next city over, sent me five thousand two hundred dollars, and told me to bump the fare and find a car.

By almost midnight, my pants soaked through, I'd had no choice but to trouble Marcella to come get me.

When I got home, my period had come early, the cramps boring through my lower belly.

Felix didn't get home until the middle of the night.

He hadn't even changed his clothes—he made me a warm bowl of oatmeal and filled a hot water bottle.

Back then I'd watched him moving around the kitchen and felt touched for a long time.

Now it just seemed absurd, almost funny.

"Bianca… Bianca…"

Marcella called my name carefully.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Marcella."

I hung up, packed my things, arranged for a pickup, then contacted the landlord to end the lease.

Early the next morning I rushed to the office to finish my offboarding.

I'd just stepped out of my manager's office when a story popped up on social media. It was Felix.

His car was parked outside the courthouse, Evelyn Simmons in the passenger seat, with a caption.

*Here with my fiancée, waiting to become this year's 1,314th couple to get our license.*

I checked the time. Posted thirty minutes ago.

We had a lot of mutual friends. A story with that much in it couldn't sit there without a single like or comment.

Which left only one explanation. Visible to me alone.

The corner of my mouth tugged up, and I booked a car to the airport.

When the flight attendant reminded everyone to switch to airplane mode, I opened that story.

And typed a line into the comments.

*Congratulations. Wishing you a long and happy marriage.*