I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at him like a child. I hated when he called mebabe. To me, it wasn’t a term of endearment but a demeaning nickname. It felt like I was an object and not a person. Anything would have been better thanbabe.
Why had my dad thought we’d make a good pair?
Though, he clearly didn’t know what love was. Neither of my parents did.
That thought reminded me of why I was doing this and cracked straight through the lid on my irritation. I set my fork down with a clank. Ben didn’t even look up.
“I think we should break up,” I announced.
The words were plenty loud, albeit a little shaky, but Ben acted as though he hadn’t heard them. Several seconds passed before he tore his attention from his phone and folded his hands under his chin.
“You know, Els,” he said, ignoring my declaration, “I was thinking we could head down to visit my parents this weekend. They bought a new boat and—”
“I want to break up,” I interrupted, shutting down the wriggling worm of hope in my heart from the sudden invitation. In the four years we’d been together, I had only met his family once, and I was never invited to any of his family events.
I gave a small shake of my head. This changed nothing. It didn’t matter how much I wanted his family to accept me.
A beat of silence pulsed between us.
“What?” he asked after a moment, mouth hanging open.
“You heard me.” I tossed the napkin onto my untouched food.
“Funny joke, Elsie.” He laughed half-heartedly, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms. The man, so used to getting his way, radiated arrogance.
Ofcoursehe wasn’t taking me seriously.
“We’re done, Ben.” I stood from my chair, preparing to leave but, on par for the course of my life, the tablecloth snagged on my bracelet. As I walked away, the entire thing went with me, dragging the plates and glasses off the round table with a loud clash as they crashed to the floor.
My entire body froze like a deer caught in headlights.
The room quieted for a split second as every eye turned to me, and I was suddenly in a vacuum, all sound sucked away. All that remained was my pulse pounding in my ears. I wanted to melt onto the floor like a puddle. I hated being the center of attention. I didn’t want to be Ben’s preferred wallflower but I didn’t like to be front and center either.
With burning cheeks and shaking fingers, I fought to get the cloth unhooked from my metal bracelet while a handful of waiters rushed around, cleaning up the mess I had made. My empty stomach swirled and, for a second, I thought I might be sick.
Wouldn’t that be the cherry on top of this entire night?
Ben sat there, watching me struggle to untangle myself, anger twisting his mouth into a deep scowl. He didn’t bother to help.
Slowly, the volume of the room crept higher as people returned to their dinner and conversations, the staff still working to clear the mess from the floor. Frustrated, I gave up and yanked the bracelet off, chucking it onto the table. I didn’t want it anyway. It had been a manipulative apology gift from Ben last year after he had forgotten our anniversary and went out with his buddies instead.
As I turned on my heel to flee, cold fingers grabbed my wrist.
“Now, hold on just a minute,” Ben snapped. “What do you mean we’re done?” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the little box I expected to be hiding in there. Popping it open, he set it on the table. “I was going to propose,” he added. He had the audacity to sound hurt, like a whiny kid whose toy had been taken away.
The ring was stunning—and huge. It had a thin gold band and a circular diamond that was easily the width of my finger set in the middle. My decision wavered for a split second as I saw my future reflected in the facets of the jewel.
Ben and I were married with a beautiful home and family, but as I looked at the ring, I could clearly see that he’d always put his marriage to his career over our own. I would always be an afterthought. Our children would wonder why their father was too busy to spend time with them, and I would fade into the background, forgotten. We would spend years drifting apart, growing resentful toward each other, until one day, after decades together, we would snap and destroy everything in a divorce. I had seen it before.
As much as I hated the thought of being alone, the idea of putting myself through such pain and heartache was worse. My resolve hardened.
“Well, now you don’t have to.” I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
“Is this about your parents? You know their divorce has nothing to do with—”
“Donotfinish that sentence,” I seethed, the anger I had tried to bury for months burning in my stomach.
“Elsie—”
