I Found His Ninety-One Proposals to Another Woman

"Deborah, are you positive you want to cancel the entire rehab program, the medication, and the specialist consultations?" The nurse's voice on the line carried a note of disbelief. It's not every day she encounters someone who's perfectly healthy but whose family is willing to forgo refunds for specialist appointments.

"Yes, please cancel everything," I confirmed.

"Alright, the refund amount totals eight thousand three hundred and thirty-two dollars and will be returned to your account."

I nodded in acknowledgment, even though she couldn't see me. After the call ended, I glanced again at the photo album and then at the loosened drawer in the bedside table. My bitter laugh came out unsteady. If it wasn’t for that loose piece of wood, I might never have uncovered all of this.

The photos were preserved with care, each one dated precisely, with locations and heartfelt messages written on the back. I counted ninety in total. From the snowy peaks of the Alps to the sunny beaches of Florida, from vast plains to secluded ancient buildings. Four seasons, all across the country. Different backdrops, yet the same trio posing time and again.

And there it was, scattered throughout, Emmitt's notes on the back of the photos with his proposals: "Mina, will you marry me?"

I traced the handwriting with my fingers, vividly imagining how Emmitt might have acted. Beautiful scenery, family by his side, a young man sincerely writing down his passionate love, eager to share it with the one he hoped to win over. It was truly romantic.

But sadly, I wasn’t the girl in those photos.

I exhaled slowly, my mind retreating swiftly into the past. Emmitt and I officially started dating in our freshman year. That day, Emmitt made a grand promise to travel across the breathtaking landscapes of the nation within twenty years. I always thought he had forgotten about it, as he never took me on any trips, not even during our college years.

Only now did I realize those words were never meant for me. Mina, Mina Nguyen. The girl in the photos must be the childhood friend mentioned by his friends.

Eight years ago, when I passed up a chance to work at a multinational company, my friend's expression was complicated. She said, "Ruby, you're investing in a lost cause. If Emmitt truly cared, he would have figured out a way to care for his mother who's partially paralyzed, instead of just introducing you to her and expecting you to help."

I didn’t pay attention to her words back then, thinking, how could such a kind old lady and such a reliable young man be a lost cause? Yet her words turned out to be prophetic.

I lived like a fool for fifteen years.

My breaths were shallow, my chest felt as if a fiery sponge was lodged inside, suffocating and burning me from within. I couldn't decide if I was more upset with Emmitt's deception or my own gullibility.

Once I calmed down, I returned the album to its place. The first thing I did was cancel the auto-renewal for the utilities of this house. Then I booked a flight for two days later.

Over the years, to better support Nancy’s rehab expenses, I took up overseas translation work and tutored local kids in foreign languages. With the sudden cancellation of the lessons, I needed to explain things face-to-face with the parents.

Once everything was settled, I opened my chat with Emmitt, ready to break up with him. But I noticed he had sent me a message two hours ago.

"South Terminal, Gate 24, at eleven twenty-four."

Of course, today was the day they returned, the day that album would gain its ninety-first photo.