After all the trouble I went through to snag those two World Cup tickets, my boyfriend turned around and gave mine to his first love.
He had his arm around her, and he said it without a trace of shame.
"I promised I'd propose to you at the World Cup, that we'd finally cross the finish line after nine years together."
"But Bertie's dying. Her last wish is to go to the World Cup and love me one more time."
"She was my first. I can't just abandon her. So you'll wait a little longer."
I looked at his fingers laced tight through hers, and something bitter stung behind my eyes.
All these years, every promise he ever made me got hijacked by his first love.
I waited, and waited, until I'd become the joke of everyone we knew.
But this time, I didn't cry or cling the way I always had. I didn't even bother to expose the fact that her medical records were fake.
I just said, calmly, "I'm not waiting anymore."
He freed one hand to ruffle my hair, letting out a small scoff.
"Nine years already, and now you can't stand to wait?"
"Be good. Once I've seen Bertie off, I'll come back and marry you."
What he didn't know was that all the years I'd been willing to wait, it was only because I couldn't let him go.
Not anymore.
I pushed his hand away and quietly took the ticket back.
Then I sent a message to the man who had also waited nine years for me.
"Once we register at the courthouse, how about we go to the World Cup for our honeymoon?"
……
Dana Delgado tapped at his phone a few times.
And just like that, he transferred the ticket that belonged to me over to Roberta Simmons.
I stared at him, unable to believe it.
My voice shook. "Didn't you say the tickets were registered under our real names and couldn't be transferred?"
Dana was a rabid soccer fan.
The first year we were together happened to land on a World Cup year, and he'd looked at me with all the tenderness in the world and said, "The World Cup is only perfect when you watch it with the person you love most. Will you come with me?"
I'd smiled and said, "I will," and had my bags packed long before it was time.
But right before we were supposed to leave, he told me, all pained about it, that out of habit he'd booked Roberta's ticket instead.
Then came the second World Cup.
Again, he'd accidentally entered Roberta's name, and swore to me with a face full of apology that he'd be more careful next time.
I believed him. I swallowed my disappointment and waited another four years.
I was even so afraid he'd book it wrong again that this time I'd fought to get the tickets myself.
But who knew.
Transferring a ticket was as simple as that.
The truth was he just wanted to go with Roberta.
And he'd lied to me again and again to make it happen.
Faced with my questions, Dana's voice turned put-upon. "They were just harmless little white lies. Bertie's used to going with me. I could hardly say no."
But every ounce of his kindness flowed straight to Roberta.
All that was left for me was hurt and deception.
Maybe because my eyes had gone so red, his tone softened a little.
"Bertie won't make it to the next World Cup. This is definitely the last time I'll ever go with her."
"Be good, don't hold it against a sick woman. When I'm back, I'll marry you."
Sick woman?
I looked at Roberta, positively glowing, and it struck me as nothing short of absurd.
"I had someone look into it. Those medical records—"
Roberta's face shifted slightly, and she went limp against Dana's chest.
"Dana, I'm so hungry."
Dana had no attention left to spare for anything I was saying, and caught her steadily.
"You can't be going hungry in your condition. Give me ten minutes, it'll be ready."
He strode into the kitchen, rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, and turned his back to me, absorbed in chopping vegetables and boiling noodles.
Roberta shot me a taunting look.
I knew exactly what that look meant.
One word from her, and Dana would cook for her, glad to do it.
But he had never once made a single meal for me.
Back when Roberta and I first met, she'd arched an eyebrow in mock surprise.
