"That was a company dinner. Plenty of people were there."

"Mm."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe you."

He lifted his head and looked at me.

"Then what are you angry about?"

I smiled.

"I'm not angry. I just think it's all pretty pointless."

I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door. He blocked the entryway.

"Where are you going to go?"

"Anywhere but here."

"Is this really necessary? Five hundred thousand, I'll pay you back, that's all. If it bothers you, I'll keep my distance from her."

I looked at him. Ten years, and this man still had no idea what I cared about.

"Move."

"No."

I set the suitcase down, took out my phone, and sent him fifty cents.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's how much we're worth. You and me."

His face changed, and his hand came down slowly.

I picked up my suitcase and walked out.

He called out behind me.

I didn't turn around.

As the elevator doors slid shut, I saw him still standing in the doorway, wearing those slippers I'd bought him last year.

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened.

He came running down barefoot.

"Wait."

I wheeled the suitcase toward the door, and he grabbed the handle.

"Over this? Ten years with me, and you'd walk out just like that, over an outsider?"

I pried his fingers loose.

"It's not that you don't want to get married. You just don't want to marry me."

He said nothing.

"You went to the movies with her last month. Don't think I don't know. Two tickets, and you paid."

He froze for a second.

"Several coworkers from the company were at that movie too."

"Really? Then why did you tag your location as the office, and she tagged hers as the theater?"

He let go of the handle.

I'd taken two steps with the suitcase when he caught up again.

"Fine, I admit it, I saw a movie with her that day. But it was just coworkers grabbing a meal and a movie. There was nothing to it."

I stopped and looked at him.

"You eat with her, see movies with her, wire her five hundred thousand, and then tell me there's nothing to it?"

He opened his mouth.

"Then let me ask you. When was the last time you took me to a movie?"

He thought about it.

"Can't remember, can you?"

He didn't answer.

"Ten years with you. My birthday, your birthday, Valentine's Day, our anniversary—when did you ever once ask me out yourself?"

"I don't like all that formality."

"You remembered her birthday clearly enough."

His face was ugly.

"Okay, I handled it badly. But walking out like this, don't you think you're overreacting?"

I gave a small laugh.

"You know, my mom called last week and asked me. She said you two have been together so long, isn't it time you thought about getting married. I told her soon."

"And the next day, I saw you wire her that five hundred thousand."

He lowered his eyes.

"I'll admit I didn't talk to you about that money. That was wrong of me. But her mother really was sick, she came to me for the loan, and I couldn't very well say no."

"She asks for a loan and you hand it over? Then why is it, when I ask you to marry me, you won't?"

He raised his head and looked at me, his lips moving a few times.

"Give me one more chance."

I turned, pulling the suitcase along.

"No need."

He shouted after me.

"Come back! Let's talk this through properly!"

I flagged down a cab and put my suitcase in.

He ran over, his hand braced against the car door.

"Don't go."

I looked at him for a few seconds.

"You never once said 'I love you' to me."

He froze.

"Ten years. You never once said it."

The car door shut. He was still standing at the curb, barefoot.

As the taxi pulled away, I glanced back.

He hadn't moved, his phone clenched in his hand.

The screen lit up.

I didn't look.

Three days later, I posted to my feed.

The photo was just one hand, with a diamond ring on the ring finger.

The caption: Done.

My phone buzzed thirteen times.

Amos's messages came one after another.

The last one read: "Whose ring is that?"

I didn't answer.

The call came in. I hung up.

It came again. I hung up again.

On the fifteenth one, I picked up.

"Whose ring is that?" His voice was hoarse.

"None of your business."

"You're lying. Where would you find someone? You were with me for ten years. Where would you even get someone?"

"There's a lot you don't know."

He drew a breath.

"Come back, let's talk. Forget the five hundred thousand, it's all yours. Whatever you want, I'll agree to it."

"Amos, do you remember my thirty-second birthday?"

He said nothing.

"I waited for you until eleven that night. You said you were working late. I lit a candle by myself, blew it out, and made a wish."

"What wish?"

"I wished that by this day next year, either you'd have married me, or I'd already be gone from your side."

The line went silent.

"It came true."

"You can't do this to me."

"I can."

His voice shook.

"Who is he? Do I know him?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters. I want to know who it is."

"You wouldn't know him even if you met him. He doesn't work at your company. He won't post on social media to fool me, and he won't take my money to help some other woman."

A long silence.

"Her mother was never in the hospital."

I held the phone and didn't move.

"I asked around. Her mother's perfectly fine. She just wanted to borrow money from me to buy an apartment, with her boyfriend."

"Mm."

"You already knew?"

"I guessed."

"Then why aren't you cursing me out?"

"Would it do any good?"

His voice dropped lower and lower.

"I'm coming to find you right now."

"Don't bother."

"Why?"

"I'm not in that city anymore."

Something shattered on the other end of the line.

"Where did you go?"

"Somewhere you don't know."

"Come back—"

"No."

"We had ten years—"

"So what? Ten years and you never figured it out, but three days and suddenly you have?"

He didn't answer.

"Amos, it's not that you don't know how to be good to someone. You just didn't want to be good to me."

"It's not like that—"

"Then what is it like?"

He had no answer.

I hung up.

He called many more times after that. I didn't pick up a single one.

In the end he sent one message.

"I hope you'll be happy."

I didn't reply.

The diamond ring was a little tight on my finger. Wear it long enough and you get used to it.

After I put on the ring, Amos lost his mind.

First came a call at three in the morning.

"That post on your feed. Delete it."

I was in the middle of a face mask, pressing the corner of my mouth down.

"Why should I?"

"It's an eyesore."

"Then don't look."

He took a deep breath, like he was holding back his temper.

"What does he do? How old is he? How did you two meet?"

"We were set up on a date."

The other end went quiet for two seconds.

"Set up on a date? You went on a date three days after leaving me?"

“Mm.”

He let out a laugh. It was harder to hear than crying.

“So you had a backup all along, didn't you? Just waiting for me to slip up so you could walk out with a clear conscience?”

I peeled off my face mask.

“Amos, be reasonable.”

“I'm not being reasonable? You got involved with someone else, and you want me to be reasonable?”

His voice kept rising.

“What's his name? Where does he live? I'm going to find him.”

“What for?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“What do you have to say to him?”

“I want to see what he's got that made you put on his ring in three days.”

I hung up.

He called again. I blocked him.

Five minutes later, the landline in the living room rang.

My mom answered.

“It's for you. Some guy. Sounds like he's about to cry.”

I walked over and picked up the receiver.

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you.”

“I don't want to see you.”

“Just tell me one thing. Is it real? Is that ring real?”

“It's real.”

His breathing came heavy.

“Do you even know him? How long have you two known each other?”

“I've known him for ten years.”

The line went quiet.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I've known him for ten years. Longer than you.”

His voice shook.

“You're lying to me.”

“I'm not. We met in college. He's liked me this whole time. I just never said yes.”

“Why now? Why are you saying yes now?”

“Because I finally figured it out. Some people are worth waiting for, and some people are just there to be missed.”

He was silent for ten-odd seconds.

“Amos, are you listening?”

“I'm here.”

He hung up.

I thought that was the end of it.

At seven that evening, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door, and Amos was standing there with a bunch of flowers in his hand, his eyes red.

He'd lost weight. Three days, and he'd shrunk a whole size. He hadn't shaved, his shirt was rumpled, and there was a grease stain near the collar.

“Are you out of your mind? How did you find this place?”

“Your mom told me. I begged her for half an hour.”

I stood in the doorway and didn't let him in.

“Go home.”

“I'm not going home.”

He took half a step forward. “Just hear me out. I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have gone to the movies with her, shouldn't have lent her the money, shouldn't have stayed at work and never come home. You were right about all of it. I just didn't appreciate you.”

“It's no use saying any of this now.”

“I know it's no use, but I have to say it.”

He drew a deep breath. “I love you.”

I froze for a second.

“What did you say?”

“I love you. I've never said that to anyone in my life. You're the first. Please. Don't marry someone else.”

His eyes went red, and the flowers trembled in his hand.

I looked at that face of his. A few seconds.

Then I laughed.

“Amos, you said it too late.”

Someone came up behind me, a hand settling on my waist.

Max Dickerson had appeared behind me at some point, in his loungewear, his hair still wet, like he'd just gotten out of the shower.

He glanced at Amos and spoke, not loudly.

“Who's this?”

Amos stared at the hand on my waist, frozen in place like he'd been nailed there.

The color drained from his face.

The flowers dropped to the floor.

Max looked down at the bouquet, then back at Amos, his tone flat.

“Oh. So you're the one.”

“The man who wasn't quite up to it……”

Max's hand was still resting on my waist.

Amos stared at that hand, his eyes rimmed red, his throat working once.