Not Waiting For You Chapter 02
He watched me in silence for a moment.
Finally, he patted my shoulder and said, “Being a bridesmaid is no easy task. You should get some rest.
“Lilly said she can’t get a ride, and it’s not safe for her to be out alone. I’ll pick her up and take her home.”
“Sure,” I said without a trace of emotion.
He didn’t leave immediately, as if expecting me to tell him to stay safe or to gripe that he shouldn’t be going this late.
But I only reached for the door to open it.
After I stepped out, the designated driver started the car.
Back at home, I sank into the couch.
After a long while, I got up and made my way to the bedroom.
As I passed the nursery, my steps faltered.
It had been planned when we bought this house four years ago.
Now, there was no child, only piles of clutter.
I walked into the room.
I pulled out a thick stack of things under the dusty crib—his handwritten love letters, movie tickets, amusement park passes, and Polaroids of our trips together…
At the very bottom was a photo from our college graduation.
He carried me on his back under the cherry tree, while I had my arms wrapped around his neck.
In the wind, my long hair and the blossoms swayed together.
On the back of the photo, he scrawled: “I’ll always be there for you. I promise.”
In the dim living room light, the words gleamed with an indifferent sheen.
It was like a silent taunt.
Downstairs, a car was pulling into the garage.
My body stiffened as I strained to catch any sound.
I heard the lock turn, followed by soft, cautious footsteps.
Then the door was nudged open.
Surprised, he lingered in the doorway and said, “Still up?”
I crouched by the crib without looking back. “Uh-huh.”
“Why did you pull all these out?” he asked breezily. “Feeling nostalgic?”
I ignored his question and asked, “Did you get her home?”
He hesitated for a beat. “Yes. She lives in the suburbs, so it’s difficult to get a cab.”
“I see.” I lowered my head again, carefully stacked the photos, and placed them back.
“It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed,” he said, offering his hand to me.
But I didn’t take it. I braced myself on my knees and struggled to my feet.
My legs had gone numb, making me stumble a little.
“Tyrone.”
“Yes?” His steps faltered.
“Let’s break up.”
He paused, studied me for two seconds, then let out a chuckle.
Casually, he loosened his tie. “Still thinking about the bouquet? Don’t be so petty.”
He sighed helplessly, as if dealing with a child throwing a tantrum. “Fine. I’ll get you a bigger bouquet tomorrow. Are you happy now? Now go wash up and sleep. I still have a morning meeting.”
With that, he strode into the bathroom.
“In a week,” I whispered to his back. “I’m getting married.”
