On May 20, I received the confirmation text for our county clerk's office appointment for the twelfth time.

I walked into the garage and found Greg Sanchez going at it with his college first love in his car.

He saw me and didn't flinch. Didn't even look sorry. Just looked like he wasn't finished yet.

“Delilah, I promised I'd get the license with you, and I will.”

“It's just……the marriage can be yours. But my love belongs to Emmy.”

The woman in the passenger seat let out a little laugh.

“I'm not here to compete with you for anything. All I need is his body.”

Five years. Eleven appointments at the county clerk's. Every single one, he'd vanished at the last minute because of her.

I thought his family was dragging him down. I paid off his gambling debts, supported his brother, bought the parking spot……

Turns out he was off getting his thrills with another woman while I bankrolled every bit of it.

He asked：“So are we still getting the license?”

I smiled：“Sure. But the one I'm picking up is a police summons.”

……

“Knock, knock.”

I raised my fist and rapped hard on the car window.

Inside, the two entangled figures froze mid-motion……

The window slid down. Greg saw it was me and casually wiped the spit from his mouth.

The woman in the passenger seat pouted and pushed him away, then straightened her shoulder strap right in front of me.

She turned, smiling brightly：

“Oh, hey. What a coincidence.”

Emily Summers. She went to the same school as Greg's younger brother, a year ahead. I'd met her twice.

Greg leaned back against the headrest and let out a long breath：

“Delilah, since you already saw everything, I'll just be straight with you.”

“Yeah, I cheated. But that doesn't change anything about us getting the license.”

I stared at the look on his face, that absolute certainty that this was reasonable, and felt nothing but the absurdity of it.

“Doesn't change anything?”

My voice came out raw.

Greg frowned.

“She's just something new. You're the one I picked to marry.”

“Marriage and love are two completely different things. Don't confuse them.”

Emily sat in the passenger seat with her hand over her mouth, laughing. The silver bracelet on her wrist caught the light.

I recognized that bracelet.

Last month, Greg told me his mother's blood pressure had spiked. I transferred him five thousand dollars without a second thought.

Later I found out he'd turned around and spent my money on a silver bracelet.

Emily's smile got even sweeter：

“Oh, don't be mad.”

“You get to be the wife. I get to be the love of his life. Everybody gets what they need. No conflict.”

I was so furious I laughed. I turned to Greg.

He said it like he was lecturing me：

“Delilah, can you please be more mature about this?”

“You've already waited five years. What's a little more?”

Five years.

In those five years, we'd made eleven appointments at the county clerk's.

Every single time, he'd disappeared right before.

I looked at him：“All eleven times you didn't show up. Was it because of her?”

Greg was quiet for a few seconds, his eyes sliding away from mine：

“Some of them were.”

“But I always came back to you, didn't I?”

Emily cut in immediately：

“Every time he went MIA on you, he was with me. And trust me, we were having the best time.”

I closed my eyes and took a long breath.

“Greg, how much of your family's debt have I paid off in five years?”

“Every mess your brother made, I cleaned up. Every time your mother got sick, I paid. This car, this parking spot, all my money.”

“What exactly am I to you?”

Greg's face darkened.

“Delilah, stop throwing everything you've done in my face.”

“Real love doesn't keep score. The way you count every little thing is really tiresome.”

He glanced down at his watch.

“The county clerk's is about to close……So, are we getting the license or not?”

I looked at him, fighting back the tears pooling in my eyes, and said nothing.

He ran his hands over me, his voice gentle：

“Lilah, stop this.”

“Today's a big day. Let's go get the license first.”

Greg thought I'd caved, the way I had the eleven times before.

All it ever took was a scrap of kindness from him, and I'd fall right back in line, cleaning up whatever mess he'd made.

I laughed, suddenly.

“Sure.”

“Of course we're getting it.”

Greg walked me to the entrance of the county clerk's office. Emily trailed behind us at a distance.

May 20th—the unofficial lovers' holiday. The line outside the county clerk's office stretched down the block.

Greg stood beside me, attentively smoothing the wind-blown strands of hair from my face.

“Lilah, lose the face. You want strangers out here laughing at us?”

“Let's just get the license, and I'll make it up to you after. Okay?”

That tender act of his dragged me straight back five years.

The year my mom was dying—the hospital had sent the critical-condition notice. I was sitting alone on a corridor bench, shaking so hard I couldn't stop, when Greg came rushing in and wrapped both hands around mine.

He said：“Lilah, don't be scared. I'll be with you for the rest of your life.”

That single sentence kept me trapped for five years.

My phone screen lit up with an old calendar reminder, the annual kind.

Eleven license appointments, crammed onto the screen one after another.

The first time, he said Elijah Sanchez was cornered in an alley by loan sharks and it could turn deadly.

I was standing outside the county clerk's office in a white dress. I transferred him every dollar I'd set aside for rent.

The second time, he said Julia James had collapsed and was in the ER.

I rushed to the hospital in the middle of the night and put up thirty thousand for her hospital deposit.

The third time, he said the property deed was lost and it might cause problems with the license……

The further I scrolled, the colder I felt.

Because after every single broken appointment, Greg would show up the next day with a little gift.

Cheap trinkets, the kind that cost a few dollars……

He'd hold me and say：“Lilah, thank god I still have you.”

Now I understood. That was never love. It was maintenance on a meal ticket.

“Bzz bzz.”

Greg's phone vibrated.

The screen lit up. A message from Emily.

“Greg, your girl looks so upset. Think she doesn't wanna marry you?”

“Are you still coming over tonight? I'll be all clean and waiting for you.”

Greg flipped his phone facedown without a flicker of expression, like he hadn't seen a thing.

I stared at him, ice in my voice：

“When did it start with Emily?”

Greg sighed, impatience bleeding through：

“About six months.”

“I already told you, it's just a fling. Why do you have to keep dragging it up?”

Six months ago was our eighth appointment.

That day, he told me his brother Elijah had been grabbed over a gambling debt. Eighty thousand to get him back.

I panicked, broke my fixed deposits, and wired him every cent.

But that night, I used his tablet and saw his social media check-in. A hot springs resort in the next town over.

I hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

Turns out he'd taken money I scraped together to save someone's life and blown it on a hot springs trip with another woman.

I took a deep breath and shoved the ID paperwork back into my bag.

“We're not doing this today.”

“Greg, there's no license. We're settling the money first.”

His face changed. He grabbed my wrist.

“Delilah, have you lost your mind?”

“We're in public and you're bringing up money right now?”

“Are you trying to throw away five years between us?!”

Right then, my phone rang.

It was Julia.

I hit answer, and Julia's wailing crashed through the speaker immediately：

“Delilah! Did you get the license or not?!”

“Your brother—yes, your brother now—is in trouble again! The collectors are at the door with knives!”

“Elijah's waiting for you to send money and save his life!”

Over the past five years, I'd taken calls like this more times than I could count.

Every single time, I was the dutiful firefighter, draining my savings to fill the bottomless pit of the Sanchez family.

This time, I answered cold：

“Not my problem anymore.”

The crying on the other end cut off. Julia's voice flipped straight to venom：

“Delilah, you ungrateful little wretch!”

“You haven't even married into this family yet, and you think you can give me attitude?”

“If Greg weren't kind enough to marry you, who else would want you at your age? Nobody!”

She twisted every dollar I'd poured into their family into me throwing myself at them, and recast Greg's lies as charity.

“You've been eating our food and living under our roof for five years. What's so wrong about chipping in a little to save your brother?”

I actually laughed.

When had I ever eaten their food or lived under their roof?

For five years, the rent was mine. Every household bill was mine.

Greg snatched the phone out of my hand and killed the call.

He pulled me into a corner near the county clerk's office and softened his voice.

“Lilah, my mom says ugly things. Don't take it to heart.”

“I know I was wrong, but Emily really was just a novelty. You're the wife I chose.”

He reached for me. I stepped back.

“Just get the license with me today, and I'll hand over my salary account to you from now on. All yours. Deal?”

“The house is a mess right now. Those collectors will do anything. You're the only one who can save Elijah.”

He looked into my eyes, wearing that tender, devoted expression he'd perfected.

“Lilah, have you forgotten who sat with you all night at your mom's wake?”

He always did this. Found my weakest spot and pressed.

Forced me to soften. Forced me to give in.

“Hey, you two, why haven't you gone inside yet?”

Emily had walked over at some point.

She was carrying a dark gray suit jacket—the one I'd spent two thousand dollars on last month so Greg could look presentable.

She held it out to Greg, smiling with that wide-eyed innocent look：

“Don't be mad, okay?”

“He slept at my place last night and left in such a rush he forgot his jacket.”

I stared at that jacket, and the humiliation rolled over me in waves.

Greg took the jacket from her and frowned at Emily：

“Enough. Stop talking.”

A second later, a voice message from Elijah came through.

“Bro, why hasn't she sent the money yet?”

“Tell her to transfer fifty grand for now. You're getting married anyway—family doesn't nickel-and-dime each other.”

I looked at Greg and kept my voice level：

“You want money? Fine.”

“First, you add up every single dollar I've paid for your family over the past five years. Every last one. Then you put it in writing and sign an IOU.”

Greg's patience snapped. He flung my hand away.

“Delilah, are you ever going to stop?!”

“We're family! Since when do a husband and wife sit down and count every penny? Is that really necessary?”

“You've been wanting to break up with me all along, haven't you? So today you drag money into it to humiliate me?”

Before I could answer, a taxi screeched to a stop at the curb.

Julia charged out of the car, hair disheveled, shoved through the crowd, and clamped down on my wrist.

Right there, in front of everyone, she screamed：

“Delilah!”

“If you don't get that license today and hand over the money—”

“you're forcing this family to die!”