He froze.
"Ten years. You never once said it."
The car door shut. He was still standing at the curb, barefoot.
As the taxi pulled away, I glanced back.
He hadn't moved, his phone clenched in his hand.
The screen lit up.
I didn't look.
Three days later, I posted to my feed.
The photo was just one hand, with a diamond ring on the ring finger.
The caption: Done.
My phone buzzed thirteen times.
Amos's messages came one after another.
The last one read: "Whose ring is that?"
I didn't answer.
The call came in. I hung up.
It came again. I hung up again.
On the fifteenth one, I picked up.
"Whose ring is that?" His voice was hoarse.
"None of your business."
"You're lying. Where would you find someone? You were with me for ten years. Where would you even get someone?"
"There's a lot you don't know."
He drew a breath.
"Come back, let's talk. Forget the five hundred thousand, it's all yours. Whatever you want, I'll agree to it."
"Amos, do you remember my thirty-second birthday?"
He said nothing.
"I waited for you until eleven that night. You said you were working late. I lit a candle by myself, blew it out, and made a wish."
"What wish?"
"I wished that by this day next year, either you'd have married me, or I'd already be gone from your side."
The line went silent.
"It came true."
"You can't do this to me."
"I can."
His voice shook.
"Who is he? Do I know him?"
"Does it matter?"
"It matters. I want to know who it is."
"You wouldn't know him even if you met him. He doesn't work at your company. He won't post on social media to fool me, and he won't take my money to help some other woman."
A long silence.
"Her mother was never in the hospital."
I held the phone and didn't move.
"I asked around. Her mother's perfectly fine. She just wanted to borrow money from me to buy an apartment, with her boyfriend."
"Mm."
"You already knew?"
"I guessed."
"Then why aren't you cursing me out?"
"Would it do any good?"
His voice dropped lower and lower.
"I'm coming to find you right now."
"Don't bother."
"Why?"
"I'm not in that city anymore."
Something shattered on the other end of the line.
"Where did you go?"
"Somewhere you don't know."
"Come back—"
"No."
"We had ten years—"
"So what? Ten years and you never figured it out, but three days and suddenly you have?"
He didn't answer.
"Amos, it's not that you don't know how to be good to someone. You just didn't want to be good to me."
"It's not like that—"
"Then what is it like?"
He had no answer.
I hung up.
He called many more times after that. I didn't pick up a single one.
In the end he sent one message.
"I hope you'll be happy."
I didn't reply.
The diamond ring was a little tight on my finger. Wear it long enough and you get used to it.
After I put on the ring, Amos lost his mind.
First came a call at three in the morning.
"That post on your feed. Delete it."
I was in the middle of a face mask, pressing the corner of my mouth down.
"Why should I?"
"It's an eyesore."
"Then don't look."
He took a deep breath, like he was holding back his temper.
"What does he do? How old is he? How did you two meet?"
"We were set up on a date."
The other end went quiet for two seconds.
"Set up on a date? You went on a date three days after leaving me?"
