Chapter 4

Three days before the day we were supposed to sign the license.

Richard asked me to come by the wedding house.

"Read the final plan through, then decide."

He used the word "final," as if he were handing me some enormous concession.

The place looked exactly the same.

The living room sofa was the one I'd picked.

The dining table was the one he'd bought after measuring the dimensions.

Even the bed in the bedroom, the one that was firmer on one side and softer on the other, was already made up.

I'd once stood here imagining our future.

Imagining travel photos stuck to the fridge, grocery runs together on weekends, even what we'd name the kids.

Now it just felt like a stranger's place.

Richard turned the laptop toward me.

The first page read: 【Proposed Adjustments to the Marriage Plan.】

The wedding as scheduled, kept.

The license, delayed by three months.

For those three months, he and I would keep our relationship as is.

He and Leah would suspend physical contact but maintain normal interaction.

Reassess after ninety days.

I read it twice.

Just to be sure I hadn't misread.

"This is your final plan?"

"Yes."

"You want to keep planning the wedding with me while staying in contact with her?"

"To be precise, it's an observation period."

"Richard."

I looked at him.

"Do you think you're being incredibly fair?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"At least it's more responsible than making an impulsive either-or choice right now."

I laughed out loud.

"So even an either-or is asking too much of you?"

"I don't like meaningless loss."

He closed the laptop.

"Mabel, we've spent three years adjusting to each other. The house, both families, daily habits, plans for the future, all of it lines up perfectly. Throwing all of that out over one sudden incident isn't rational."

"And Leah?"

"I've known her for twenty-five years."

"So she can't be a loss either."

He didn't deny it.

I nodded.

Of course. He wanted everything.

Stability, and the flutter too.

A wife, and he couldn't bear to let the childhood friend go either.

He didn't even think he was being greedy.

He thought he was minimizing loss.

I walked into the bedroom and pulled out the suitcase I'd packed long ago.

Richard's face finally changed.

"When did you pack that?"

"Yesterday."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Was there any need to?"

He followed me to the door.

"Where are you staying?"

"A friend's place."

"That's twelve kilometers farther to commute."

"It's fine."

"You're a light sleeper, and that place faces the street."

"I know."

"You haven't taken all your things yet."

"I don't want them."

Line after line. I used to think Richard was a man of few words.

Only now did I see that he simply didn't say anything useless.

When he sensed things slipping out of his control, he'd chase a person down with questions too.

I dragged the suitcase toward the door.

Suddenly he caught my wrist.

"Mabel."

I turned around.

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"I don't want you to do anything."

"So you're punishing me?"

"No."

"Forcing me to choose you?"

"That's not it either."

His brow drew tighter and tighter.

"Then why are you moving out?"

I looked at him for a while, and suddenly I felt a little sorry for him.

A man who could calculate everything, and yet the one thing he couldn't calculate was this: some people don't leave to make someone chase them.

They leave simply because they no longer want to stay.

I pried his fingers off my wrist, one by one.

"Because I don't want to marry you anymore."

He was silent for two seconds.

"The credibility of that statement is very low."

"Mm."

I didn't argue. The suitcase wheels scraped across the floor.

As I passed the entryway, the reminder for his stomach medicine went off.

Twelve o'clock sharp.

For three years, I was the one who reminded him to take it every noon.

Sometimes when he found it a bother, I'd just press the pills straight into his hand.

Richard silenced the alarm, but didn't move.

He looked at me. I looked at him.

A few seconds passed, and then he suddenly asked, "Where's the medicine?"

It had always been in my bag.

I said, "Second drawer of your study."

His throat moved slightly.

"You're not carrying it anymore?"

"Why would I?"

"You always had it before."

"I won't from now on."

I pulled the door open.

The calm on his face finally split along one very thin crack.

"Mabel."

"Mm."

"You said before, that even if one day you stopped loving me, you'd still make sure I took my medicine."

I remembered.

It was a joke we'd made back when we first started dating.

I'd been holding him, saying, Richard, this wrecked stomach of yours, without me you'd have ruined yourself sooner or later.

He'd asked, and what if one day you stopped loving me?

I'd kissed him and said, I'd still look after you even then.

Now, thinking about it, people really shouldn't make careless promises.

I smiled.

"Back then I couldn't bear not to."

"Now I feel like whether your stomach hurts has nothing to do with me anymore."

One sentence.

Richard went completely silent.

I dragged the suitcase into the elevator.

The doors slid shut, bit by bit.

He didn't chase after me.

He just stood there, in that house measured out to the last centimeter, the one meant for the decades we were supposed to spend together, watching me.

In that moment, he finally understood.

I wasn't forcing him to choose, wasn't waiting for an apology, wasn't trying to win that one point over Leah.

I really just didn't want him anymore.