My Ex's Greatest Regret

Three days before the wedding, I was cleaning out some old boxes when I remembered the time capsule Natasha Rowe and I buried ten years ago.

When I mentioned it, her face stiffened for a moment. She quickly tried to talk me out of going.

"It's been so long," she said. "Someone probably dug it up already."

I didn't think much of it and went back to our old high school alone.

At the spot where we buried it, I started digging.

Instead of one box, I pulled out five metal containers of different sizes.

Two of them were the ones Natasha and I buried ten years ago, their surfaces rusted and worn.

But there were three others.

One of them was just as rusted as ours. The other two looked almost brand new.

The old extra box had a name scratched into the lid.

Vince Houle.

On it were the words, [My secret crush was a war I fought alone. Natasha, I hope you're happy.]

I remembered him then. He had been a quiet guy who sat behind us in class. The kind of student no one really noticed.

The two newer boxes had names carved into them, too.

Natasha and Vince.

The date etched into both of them was today.

On Natasha's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.]

On Vince's box were the words, [The greatest regret of my life is that I can't openly congratulate you on getting married.]

I stood under the old locust tree that hadn't changed in ten years, five cold metal boxes resting in my hands.

At that moment, I felt like the biggest joke in the world.

The wind picked up, stirring a few dry leaves across the ground. It cut straight through me, leaving a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

Somewhere I never saw, another man had been fighting his own quiet war with a secret crush.

And my fiancée, Natasha Rowe, had been carrying a regret she never once spoke out loud.

Her greatest regret was that she couldn't marry Vince Houle.

Then what was I?

What about the wedding we were supposed to have the day after tomorrow? Was it all just one massive lie? Or some kind of consolation prize for the man she truly loved?

I buried the three boxes that didn't belong to me back into the ground.

The only ones I took were the two Natasha and I had buried together.

By the time I got home, it was completely dark.

The living room lights were on.

Natasha was sitting on the couch, but the moment she saw me walk in, she stood up.

"Why are you back so late? Where did you go?"

I changed my shoes and answered calmly, "I stopped by our high school."

"Our high school?"

She froze for a split second before quickly forcing herself to look normal again.

"What were you doing there? Why didn't you tell me so I could come with you?"

"Nothing special," I said. "I was passing by, so I went in and said hello to a couple of teachers."

She visibly relaxed, then walked over and wrapped her arms around me from behind. Her cheek pressed against my back, her voice soft and warm.

"You scared me for a second. I thought you ran off or something. The wedding's the day after tomorrow. You can't go disappearing like that."

I let her hold me.

The silence between us grew heavier by the second.

Finally, I asked quietly, "Do you really want to marry me?"

Her body stiffened. Then, she tightened her arms around me.

"Of course I do. We've been together for ten years. If we don't get married, what else would we do? Why are you overthinking this?"

Yeah.

Ten years.

But the words carved into that metal box kept flashing through my mind.

[The greatest regret of my life is that I couldn't marry you.]

Natasha let go of me and immediately started talking excitedly about tomorrow's wedding rehearsal.

She even started imitating the pastor reciting the vows.

"For richer or poorer… In sickness and in health…

"Do you, Alan Gibbs, take Natasha Rowe… Do you, Natasha Rowe…

"I do."

Every word felt like a needle digging into my chest.

"Do you like this wedding car?" she asked, holding up her phone. "Or should we go with the black one instead?"

She looked at me with bright, hopeful eyes.

Something suddenly flared up inside me. A hot, uncontrollable anger burned straight through my patience.

"Whatever."

I turned my head away, my voice cold.

"Do whatever you want. I don't care."

The smile on Natasha's face froze. "What does that mean? What do you mean, you don't care? This is our wedding."

"Our?"

I let out a short, bitter laugh and looked back at her.

"Is it really ours?"

She stared at me, confused, then frowned.

"What's wrong with you today? You've been acting weird since you got back. I've been running around nonstop getting things ready for the wedding. What's with your attitude?"

"My attitude?" My chest felt tight. "What about you? You're the one…"

I stopped myself. The words were right on the tip of my tongue.

If I said them, there would be no taking them back.

Natasha's eyes turned red.

She shouted at me, "What's wrong with me? Haven't I been working nonstop for our wedding? Alan, what the hell is wrong with you? If you don't want to get married, then don't!"

She turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard that the whole house seemed to shake.

I stood alone in the empty living room, my fists slowly tightening.