Seven Years Together, But Never Forever

Before the wedding, Daniel looked at me with a mix of hesitation and hope. "Can you give me a month?" he asked.

He wanted to try rekindling his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. If he succeeded, it would prove they were meant to be. If he failed, he promised to return, marry me, and leave her in the past forever.

I didn’t argue. Instead, I smiled faintly and replied sincerely, "Go ahead, give it a try. After all, life shouldn’t have regrets, right?"

That night, he drove off, looking relieved, almost happy. Meanwhile, I quietly packed my belongings and called home.

"Mom," I said, my voice steady, "I’m not getting married. I’m coming home to help you with the family business."

——

I could feel my mother’s excitement through the phone. "Finally! Your dad and I always said that man wasn’t reliable. Seven years of dating, and he still couldn’t commit!"

She didn’t wait for me to reply. "Perfect timing. Our art studio in Chicago needs someone to settle the accounts. I’ll arrange everything for you."

"Sure," I said, cutting the conversation short. Chicago sounded ideal—far enough to leave everything, especially him, behind.

As I stood amidst the scattered wedding souvenirs, all I felt was a quiet, bitter amusement. Seven years with Daniel Rhodes. Seven years of believing we had a future.

I stood by his side through the toughest years of his life, believing that all the sacrifices would eventually pay off. But what I thought was the start of our happily ever after turned out to be nothing more than a fragile dream.

When I graduated, everyone—teachers, classmates, even family—thought Daniel and I would celebrate with a graduation certificate in one hand and a marriage certificate in the other. After all, I attended the ceremony wearing a wedding dress, full of hope and love.

While others dreamed of bright futures, six-figure salaries, or pursuing advanced degrees, I turned my back on the promising path my parents had laid out for me. I chose him. Firmly. Without hesitation. All I ever wanted was to marry Daniel and spend the rest of my life by his side.

Years passed. Friends around me built their lives—marrying, starting families, and some even remarrying. But I waited. Always waiting for Daniel. Waiting for the day he would finally be ready. Waiting for him to say, "Let’s get married."

Seven years slipped through my fingers, and with them, countless class reunions where my supposed wedding became a recurring joke. My friends would step in to explain for me, teasing that I simply enjoyed being in love and wasn’t ready for the “grave of marriage.”

But that wasn’t the truth. Not even close. I wanted to settle down more than anyone else, to be his wife, to start our forever.

The real truth? Daniel wasn’t waiting for the right time—he was waiting for someone else. His first love, Abigail Turner.

Three months ago, she returned to Washington.

Daniel didn’t say much after that.

Instead of pulling away, Daniel became unusually active in preparing for our wedding.

He accompanied me to try on wedding dresses, patiently staying with me from morning till night.

He joined me in sampling dishes at countless hotels, never showing a hint of impatience, even when we changed venues over and over.

He suddenly took interest in the smallest details—like choosing the perfect souvenirs—things he had never cared about before.

I thought it was his way of giving me a sense of security, a silent promise that he had finally let go of Abigail. I dared to believe he had moved on.

But that illusion shattered late one night.

I woke up and noticed the light in his study was still on. Curious, I walked over, only to see him holding Abigail’s belongings, taken carefully from the bookcase. He cradled them like treasures, his expression tender, almost reverent.

I froze in the doorway, watching as he sat there, lost in memories. He didn’t see me, but I saw everything.

In that moment, it became painfully clear—this wasn’t just about Daniel and me. Our future wasn’t in our hands. Whether we could get married depended on Abigail, and whether she would ever want him back.

I was just a placeholder, a role easily discarded.

Isn’t there a saying? The things we can’t have in our youth will haunt us for a lifetime.

If that’s true for a forgotten trinket, how much stronger must it be for someone who once meant everything?

As the wedding day approached, tasks began to pile up. Amid the chaos, I noticed the souvenirs we had received that afternoon weren’t packed properly.