The day before the wedding, my fiancée skipped the rehearsal.
That evening, I got a text from her.
Reuben's been diagnosed with a terminal illness. He doesn't have long.
He loves me so much. I can't go through with a wedding right now and break his heart.
I need to go abroad with him for treatment. A year at least, two at most. I promise I'll come back and marry you.
I'll need to focus on him during this time, so I might go off the grid. Make up whatever excuse you want for postponing the wedding. If you're worried about losing face, just blame it on me.
I typed back a single word:
Okay.
If this engagement continued, that would be the real embarrassment.
……
Almost simultaneously, Reuben Simmons posted on Instagram.
The photo showed the two of them with freshly shaved heads, cheeks pressed together.
In their clasped hands were two plane tickets to France.
The caption read:
She told me she won't let me die, because love can cure anything.
In the comments, Andrea Rowe's friends were falling over themselves to like and praise her. What a selfless woman. Such boundless compassion. They pledged to chip in for Reuben's treatment however they could.
Not a single person mentioned me.
As if tomorrow's wedding was never supposed to exist in the first place.
I let out a bitter laugh, hit "like" on the post, and left a comment:
Wishing you a speedy recovery!
My comment blended right in with the chorus of well-wishes. Nothing out of place.
But a second later, it was deleted.
Andrea's call came immediately after, her voice dripping with impatience.
"Ethan Calloway, what the hell was that? Leaving a comment just to start something?"
I was momentarily speechless.
"I wasn't starting anything. I genuinely wished him good health."
Andrea had already made up her mind that I was causing trouble.
"If you were genuine, you'd do what everyone else did and just send money instead of sitting there being petty and jealous!"
"Nobody brought up the wedding because they didn't want to make Reuben uncomfortable, and then you just pop up with 'wishing you a speedy recovery'? You're twisting the knife on purpose!"
"Apologize to Reuben! He's devastated because of your comment!"
From the other end of the line came the sound of a man choking back sobs.
"Andrea, forget it! I shouldn't have told you about my diagnosis. The doctors said I don't have long. I need to stop clinging to impossible hopes! I'll cancel the tickets right now. I can't be selfish enough to ruin your wedding just because I'm dying!"
Andrea's voice instantly went soft, soothing him like he was a child.
"Reuben, just because they can't treat it here doesn't mean there's no hope overseas! How could a wedding be more important than your life? No matter how long the treatment takes, I'll be right there with you. Until you're better."
Reuben dissolved into sobs.
"But what about Ethan? He must be so hurt. I'll just go abroad alone. You two can have your wedding tomorrow as planned..."
Andrea's voice grew even softer, edged with urgency.
"You going alone would worry me even more! The surgical consent forms need a family member's signature. Who would you have?"
"I already worked it out with Ethan. Two years, tops, and he gets what he wants. It's not like I'm going to run away."
"Stop crying! You'll start hyperventilating again."
"And if your eyes are all swollen, the border agent won't think your passport photo matches tomorrow. Then what?"
Reuben let out a teary laugh.
Andrea exhaled with relief, then turned back to me. Her tone was slightly less sharp.
"Ethan, why aren't you saying anything? Hurry up and apologize to Reuben!"
My nails dug into my palms. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to like and comment on that post in the first place.
But I hadn't done anything wrong. Why should I apologize?
"Andrea, what if I say no?"
She faltered for a beat, then her voice shot up in disbelief.
"Ethan, if you keep this up, it's going to get ugly! Reuben is a sick man. The last thing he needs is emotional stress, and you're deliberately upsetting him. How can you be so inconsiderate?"
