At the reunion, everyone got to talking about the odds of a long-distance relationship actually working out, and they started egging me on to call my boyfriend and pressure him into marriage.
I dialed without any rush, playing it up: "Just transfer me two hundred grand for the bride price right now, and I'll marry you tomorrow."
No surprise, he picked up on the first ring, and my boyfriend Noah Gilbert's voice came through, soft as ever: "Is two hundred enough? Babe, I just put two hundred thousand in your account for spending money."
My classmates sucked in a breath, all of them envious that I had a boyfriend who was both rich and thoughtful.
I was smiling too, about to say something sweet, when a woman's voice came from the other end of the line: "Honey, the wedding rehearsal's starting. Focus, okay? Nothing can go wrong tomorrow. We'll be showing the video to our baby someday."
The whole reunion went dead silent in an instant.
He must have forgotten to hang up, because I heard him say, still in that gentle tone: "There, there, don't get upset, it's bad for the baby. That whiny woman back home is easy to handle, just toss her a little money and she stays put. Once I sign the papers and get her cash, I'll dump her."
The smile froze on my face, the veins standing out on the hand gripping the phone.
We'd been childhood sweethearts. Our families had arranged the match when we were small, and because of it, my family had been propping his up all these years.
He said he didn't want a big fuss, so I said we could cancel the wedding, just a dinner with family would be fine.
He said he wanted to hold off on kids for a few years, that he wasn't ready to be a father, so I said there was plenty of time to have them whenever.
So all these years of feeling were nothing but a joke, and I was the fool being played.
But he'd probably forgotten I was using the old phone he'd thrown out. It was full of secrets that were never meant to see daylight.
……
My classmates traded looks, none of them daring to say a word.
That line of Noah's from the call, "just toss her a little money and she stays put," landed like a hard slap across my face.
I picked up the glass of warm water in front of me and took a sip.
Beside me, my best friend Minnie Finch tugged carefully at my sleeve.
"Jules, are you okay? Noah, he…"
"I'm fine." I set the glass down and picked up my phone, looking at that two-hundred-thousand transfer record on the screen.
"No sense leaving this money on the table. Call it compensation for emotional damages."
I tapped to accept it, then set the phone face down on the table.
Seeing me so calm only left them more at a loss.
The class president gave a dry little laugh. "Uh, maybe there's some kind of misunderstanding. Noah used to treat you so well."
I said nothing, just looked at the plate of sweet-and-sour ribs that had gone cold on the table.
Six years ago, when Noah and I first got together, we were so broke we'd split a single takeout order between us.
Back then he was interning on a construction site, working himself to the bone every day.
It broke my heart, so after work I'd go to the farmers' market for the cheapest cuts and find a hundred ways to make him sweet-and-sour ribs.
Once I hadn't bought enough, so I lied and said I'd already eaten. I watched him wolf down every piece of meat, and let myself do nothing more than lick the sauce off the bottom of the plate.
Back then he held me, his eyes red.
"Jules, once I make it big, I'll feed you sweet-and-sour ribs every single day, and I'll never let you suffer even a little."
Now he really has made it big. Two hundred thousand, transferred just like that.
But the sweet-and-sour ribs, he's serving to someone else.
The phone buzzed. A message from Noah.
"Babe, that call just now was my boss's daughter. She's getting married today and insisted I stand in as family for her."
"You know I'm fighting for that big project her father controls. I had no choice but to play along with her."
"Don't be mad. Once I land this project, we'll buy a house next month, in your name only."
I looked at those lines and found them almost funny.
He was always like this, a slap and then a piece of candy, weaving his lies until there wasn't a seam to be found.
If I hadn't been holding the old phone he'd cast off, I probably really would have believed him.
I didn't reply. I just locked the screen.
The party wrapped up hastily. I turned down Minnie's offer to see me home and walked alone into the cold wind of late autumn.
I passed a bridal shop. In the window, a mannequin wore a pure white gown, the lights pouring over it so bright it made my eyes ache.
Noah had said that once he'd saved up the down payment, we'd get married.
I believed it for six years.
And now he's in a bespoke suit, signing marriage papers with someone else.
I stopped walking and took out that old phone with the cracked screen.
The screen lit up. The wallpaper was still the photo of us from six years ago.
I opened the hidden folder in the gallery, my finger resting on the album labeled "Pruitt."
It was all photos of Noah and Miss Pruitt.
On a yacht. In a high-end restaurant. On a beach abroad.
In every picture Noah was smiling so tenderly, a look he had never once shown me.
I swiped through them one by one, the ache in my chest already numb.
Then a note reminder popped up on the screen.
"Tomorrow is Nari's birthday. Remember to pick up the custom diamond ring."
So the marriage registration and the birthday were the same day.
I stood in the cold wind, looking at that familiar face of Noah's on the screen.
