My Boyfriend Didn't Know I'd be Married

Leon had promised we would marry after seven years together. But the day I went to try on wedding dresses, I overheard him on a livestream call, saying, "My girlfriend keeps bugging me to get married. It's so annoying. What should I do?"

Furious, I confronted him. Instead of talking it out, Leon grabbed his suitcase, booked a flight and left. Before he walked out, he even posted on Twitter: "Never spoil a woman too much!"

A month passed and then Leon called me, his voice oddly eager to please. "Emily, weren't we supposed to get married? Why haven't you made any arrangements?"

I glanced down at the handsome man kneeling in front of me, a ring in his hand and answered coolly, "Oh, I am making arrangements. Just not with you."

***

Leon and I had been together for seven years. I'd thought he'd be just as excited as I was about getting married, but that illusion shattered that day we went together to the wedding boutique.

I was in the middle of trying on my dream dress—a gown with delicate lace sleeves and a gentle, flowing skirt that made me feel weightless. The boutique was bustling with chatter and laughter as brides-to-be admired themselves in the mirror. My stylist had just adjusted the veil when I heard Leon's voice, louder than the rest of the sounds, carrying from a livestream I'd tuned in while waiting for my turn.

"My girlfriend won't stop nagging me about marriage. It's driving me nuts—what should I do?"

The stylist froze, her hands hovering mid-air as she adjusted my gown's train. The lively hum in the fitting room instantly went still. I caught my reflection in the mirror, all dressed up in bridal makeup and a gown I'd dreamed of and suddenly, I felt like a tragic parody of a bride. My throat tightened and I could feel the burn of humiliation and heartbreak rising in my chest. Tears blurred my vision as I gasped for breath. Ignoring the stylist's worried calls, I ran out of the boutique, still in the dress.

Greenwoods in October had a sharp chill that bit through the thin fabric of my gown, the wind prickling my bare shoulders. My feet were bare, the cold pavement stinging my skin and I barely noticed the sharp pebble that cut into my heel as I stumbled down the boutique's stone steps. I heard a few gasps from people nearby as I passed, their concerned glances doing little to break the ache inside me. Every footfall seemed to echo with the thoughts that Leon didn't care, he never did.

"Emily! What are you doing? Stop running!" Leon's voice cut through the noise of the street, his tone a mixture of exasperation and frustration.

For a second, I froze, heart pounding, a foolish hope rising that he might wrap me in his arms and assure me this was all a mistake. I turned to face him, only to see that annoyed scowl—the one he wore every time I'd asked for a little more attention, a little more of his time. And then he spoke, in the same tone he'd use when his favorite sports team lost a match.

"Emily, why are you always so reckless? Do you know how expensive that dress is? It cost me a month's salary. What if you ruin it?"

I felt the world around me fall silent. My foot throbbed, my shoulders trembled in the cold, but Leon didn't even notice. He hadn't cared about me running out into the street or the fact that I was barefoot and bleeding. No, all he saw was a dress that he'd paid for.

The crowd around us whispered, their comments reaching my ears in fragments.

"That poor girl... look at her, running after a man who doesn't deserve her."

"I bet he's the reason she looks so devastated."

Leon reached for my hand, gripping it tightly as he tried to steer me back toward the boutique, his expression one of irritation mixed with impatience. "Emily, what more do you want? You wanted to get married—I agreed. You wanted to take wedding photos—I agreed to that too. What more could you possibly want?"