"How many more times in your life will you drink for me?"
I watched as Oliver's eyes quietly reddened too.
Without a word, he tipped his head back and drained the glass.
Alberta's gaze grew even more sorrowful.
"Dr. Henson, I just need one answer from you. You married her—was it because you love her, or because—"
Before she could finish, Oliver cut her off, his voice cracking.
"I don't love her."
The entire room went dead silent.
I drew a deep breath. The stone I'd been carrying in my chest finally hit the ground.
Years of secret longing. Years of chasing him. Every shred of dignity I'd ever had, traded in for nothing but a punchline.
He didn't love me.
So I'd set him free.
That afternoon, I packed my bags and sorted through my documents at home.
Then a message from Oliver lit up my phone.
I wasn't sure whether Felicity Henson had said something to him, but for the first time in living memory, he was asking me to dinner at a restaurant by the river.
Capital City sat along the river. Our elementary school, our middle school—all of them had been built along its banks.
Back then, I used to love running down to the riverbank for picnics. Oliver always called me childish and refused to come along.
But on my eighteenth birthday, he'd pulled out a document, all stiff and awkward about it.
He told me he'd bought the plot of land by the river. He was going to build a beautiful riverside restaurant there and give it to me.
"Happy with your coming-of-age present?"
In the golden light of the setting sun, the boy had grinned at me, proud and trying not to show it.
After that, every time he broke my heart badly enough that I wanted to walk away, I'd think of that afternoon. And I'd tell myself to wait just a little longer.
Once this memory stops making me feel anything, I can leave.
When I didn't reply, Oliver called me directly.
"Didn't you see my text?"
"I said let's go to dinner tonight."
I blinked. For the first time ever, I turned him down.
"No thanks. I already have plans tonight."
He clearly hadn't expected that.
A beat of stunned silence, and then his voice went stiff.
"It's the first day after our wedding. Plans with who?"
Only then did it click—"dinner" was probably an assignment from Mrs. Henson.
She and my mother were the closest of friends, and she'd always doted on me. After Oliver humiliated me at the reception yesterday, she was probably worried I'd be heartbroken, so she'd told him to come home early and smooth things over.
I smiled knowingly. "Relax. I won't say anything to your mother. You're free to do whatever you want tonight. If she asks, I'll cover for you."
This was the unspoken arrangement we'd settled into since last New Year's Eve.
Last New Year's, Oliver had wanted to go buy food for Alberta.
So he lied to his family, told them I'd been in a car accident and needed someone at my side.
Once he'd slipped out the door, he called me.
"If my mom calls asking about the accident, just tell her I'm with you and it's nothing serious. Tell her not to worry."
I'd been furious and hurt. "I begged you for two weeks to spend New Year's Eve with me, and you kept saying there was a family dinner you couldn't get out of. Now Alberta wants one egg sandwich, and suddenly you're free?"
"Lying to your family just to go be with her—that's fine with you?"
"Using my health as a joke—that's fine with you too?"
Oliver was silent for two seconds.
Then he clicked his tongue in irritation.
"Do you ever stop? It's one little lie. Can you quit being so superstitious about it?"
"If you really don't want to help me, then let's just call off the engagement. Being with you is exhausting."
We'd grown up together. Nobody knew my weak spots better than Oliver.
And ever since I was a little girl, the one thing I'd wanted most in the world was to marry him.
