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On the day I tried on my wedding gown, Paul Matthews took a call from his girl "buddy" and left.
Everyone told me to be the bigger person.
Instead, I changed out of the gown, had it packaged, and sent it back to the maker.
I went back to the apartment to pack my bags, and Paul called.
"Nadia Simmons, why do you always have to be so petty?"
I listened to him lay the blame on me, righteous as anything.
There wasn't a single ripple in me. If anything, I almost wanted to laugh.
"Paul, let's break up."
"The wedding's off. I've already returned the gown."
...
"It's just a wedding dress. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it?"
Paul's brows were knotted tight.
He stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bridal shop, the car keys clenched hard in his hand.
Ten minutes earlier, Diana had called.
She'd sobbed into the phone that her stomach hurt so badly she was rolling on the floor, that she didn't have the strength to stand up.
Paul had dropped the clerk who was fixing my train and spun around to bolt out the door.
I'd called after him.
And he'd turned back and thrown that line at me.
The whole shop went cold in an instant.
A few of the clerks glanced at one another, none of them daring to make a sound.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I'd had this gown custom-made in France half a year in advance.
Today was our first fitting, and the last chance to confirm the measurements.
"Paul, today is the day we're supposed to settle the wedding details."
I looked into his eyes, searching for even a flicker of guilt.
"If Diana's sick, she can go to the hospital. She can call an ambulance."
"You're not a doctor. What are you going to do, cure her stomachache?"
Paul's face darkened at once.
"Nadia, you're usually so reasonable. Why are you being so impossible today?"
"Diana's all alone in Rivermont, no family, no one. She's in so much pain she can't take it. Am I supposed to just ignore her?"
"We grew up together. I've thought of her as my own little sister for years."
"You're jealous of a sick woman? Do you have any sympathy at all?"
He didn't bother hiding the impatience in his voice.
I could even hear the click of him working the car key.
"She has friends, coworkers, building management. She could even order a delivery runner to bring her medicine."
My voice was so calm it surprised even me.
"But today, you're my fiancé."
Paul let out a cold laugh, his eyes full of disappointment in me.
"Nadia, you really have to corner me right now, don't you?"
"Go ahead and finish the fitting. I paid for it a long time ago."
"Once I get Diana settled, I'll come home tonight and have dinner with you."
And with that, he pushed open the door and walked out without looking back.
The glass door slammed shut.
The wind chime rang out, shrill, as if it were laughing at me for holding on.
I stood in front of the huge mirror.
The woman in it wore a pure white gown, and no amount of careful makeup could hide the exhaustion under her eyes.
This wasn't the first time.
Last month, when we were supposed to shoot our wedding photos, Diana said a pipe had burst at her place.
Paul left the entire photography team standing there and ran off to fix her plumbing.
Last week, when we were supposed to finalize the engagement dinner menu, Diana said her coworkers were freezing her out and she was upset.
Paul stayed at a bar drinking with her until the middle of the night, and left me to face the hotel manager's nagging alone.
Every time, he had some high-minded reason.
Every time, all I could do was swallow it and understand.
"Miss Simmons, does the waist on this gown need to be taken in a little more?"
The clerk broke the silence carefully, sympathy in her voice.
I took a deep breath.
"No need."
I turned and walked toward the changing room.
"Help me get it off."
The clerk froze, clearly not following.
"But Mr. Matthews said you should keep trying it on..."
"Take it off."
I cut her off, my tone firm.
Once I was back in my own clothes, I walked to the front desk.
"Please package this gown and send it straight back to the maker."
The store manager hurried over, her face pained.
"Miss Simmons, this is couture. If it's returned, the deposit is non-refundable."
"Return it."
I took out my card and handed it to her.
"I'll cover the cancellation fee."
Card paid, I walked out of the bridal shop.
The sun was bright outside, and for once I felt light all over.
Three years.
I finally didn't have to keep swallowing my pride for a man who didn't love me.
