"Fine. Just don't come crawling back to me on your knees!"
That was one of only two fights we had in six years.
The first was during our second year together, when I insisted he take me along to visit his family's graves on Memorial Day.
"Willow, I'm with you three hundred and sixty-four days a year. Can't I have one day to myself?"
We didn't speak for three months after that.
I was heartbroken, miserable, drifting through my days in a fog. One afternoon I missed a step on a staircase.
The tiny life I hadn't even known about yet was gone, just like that.
Curtis rushed to the hospital the moment he heard. He stayed up all night, tending to me with a gentleness I'd never seen before.
Neither of us mentioned what had happened that day. It was an unspoken pact.
And every Memorial Day after that, I knew better than to ask.
The cold war stretched all the way to my birthday, when Curtis appeared in front of me holding a bouquet of red roses.
"Willow, let's get married."
An old movie was playing on the TV behind us. The leads were kissing goodbye in the rain. It was his favorite film. We'd watched it together at least ten times.
When I didn't answer, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his chin against my shoulder. His voice was rough.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time. I always told myself I needed to give you the best of everything first."
"But now I just want to build a home with you. I want to wake up every morning and see your face."
I felt nothing. Not a ripple.
"Curtis, are you truly over Lena?"
A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, there and gone.
He cradled my face in both hands, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Willow, let the past stay in the past. Trust me."
On the surface, things went back to the way they'd been.
But I was the only one who knew there was no going back. I was just giving myself time to say goodbye in silence.
Curtis threw himself into wedding planning with infectious enthusiasm, browsing gowns and rings, consulting event planners.
I watched it all from behind a pane of frosted glass, like a silent film that had nothing to do with me.
His excitement and anticipation seemed genuine enough, yet none of it stirred even a spark of hope in my chest.
Then came the night of the proposal.
Curtis wore a tailored suit. He lowered himself onto one knee.
Before a single word left his mouth, he saw Lena clap a hand over her mouth and storm out, slamming the door behind her.
He looked at me, guilt already flooding his face, and moved to go after her.
I grabbed his hand. All I wanted was to hold on to one last scrap of dignity.
"Can you at least wait until this is over?"
Curtis froze for a second. Then, one by one, he pried my fingers loose and walked out without looking back.
I was left standing there, alone, surrounded by the pitying stares and barely concealed smirks of every friend in the room.
Like a glutton for punishment, I followed.
He caught up to Lena outside and pulled her back by the arm.
Their eyes locked. The moment he saw how red and swollen hers were, Curtis caved first.
"You had a boyfriend that day. You turned me down on your own birthday. What's there to be upset about now?"
Lena pounded her fists against his chest.
"You jerk. Curtis Fox, you're such a jerk!"
Then she threw herself into his arms and sobbed harder.
"I'm sick. I didn't want to drag you down with me. I thought I was strong enough to let go, but I can't stop thinking about you. What am I supposed to do?"
"Curtis, watching you marry another woman is killing me."
"Curtis, I love you. Every single day since we parted, I have never stopped loving you."
Tears streaked her face like rain on pear blossoms as she tilted her chin up, rose onto her toes, and brought her lips to his.
Every muscle in Curtis's body went rigid. The veins on the backs of his hands stood out like cords.
Then he shoved her against the wall and kissed her back, hard.
"Lena, I love you too."
The most devastating love confession two reunited hearts could share.
I walked toward them, one slow step at a time.
Lena saw me first. She straightened, composed herself.
Curtis followed her gaze, and the color drained from his face.
"Willow, let me explain—"
I stood perfectly still, perfectly quiet. And he couldn't get out another word.
