Wastime Time and the Bellflower

"Let’s get married as soon as possible," said my fiancee, Clementine Knaupper, out of nowhere during dinner.

I froze with the spoon in hand. Over the last three years, I proposed to get married seven times, and she turned me down all seven times with all sorts of reasons.

Then, she told me with a shifty look in her eyes, "I… I’m two months pregnant. The pregnancy is going to start showing soon."

I set aside my spoon and stared intently at her. "You were on a business trip two months ago, weren’t you?"

She gulped before stating in a troubled voice, "The baby… is my assistant, Stanley Brickley’s. I had too much to drink that night, and I thought it was you.

"The doctor says if I get an abortion, it will be difficult for me to have children again. After we get married, we can announce my pregnancy. We can tell people it’s our baby.

"Then, I will send Stanley and the baby away. They won’t come back after that."

I looked at the woman I had loved for seven years, and for the first time, I felt like I was looking at a stranger.

"Clementine, let’s call off our engagement."

The color drained from Clementine Knaupper's face as she cried out, "No way! Have you forgotten how important our arranged marriage is to us?"

I clenched my fist and had to force the tears from coming out as I calmly met her gaze.

"Fine, I'll let you take your pick.

"Option one. We call off the engagement, and you'll marry him instead. You will pay what you owe me according to what is stated in the original engagement contract.

"Option two, you get rid of the baby and cut things off with him for good. We can still proceed with the engagement on the condition that I get to amend some of the terms."

Clementine froze. She looked at me like she was looking at a stranger.

"Luke Everett, what are you talking about?" Her voice dropped several decibels and became filled with equal disbelief and anger. "How could you be so heartless?

"How can you make me abort the baby when you know I have health issues? How am I supposed to live with it for the rest of my life?"

I looked at the woman who had once sworn to spend the rest of her life with me. There was marked disappointment in her eyes.

"Clementine, do you expect me to raise someone else's child for you? How do you suppose that I am the heartless one here?"

That was when she approached and tried to reach for my hand.

"Luke, you know I love you. What happened between him and me was just an accident. My involvement with him now is only out of obligation, not love."

I pulled away from her.

Her hand was left hanging mid-air. When she spoke again, her tone was low and grave with a lethargic weariness that made me cave in so many times in the past.

"We have been together for seven years. Are you going to call off the engagement because of this?"

I leaned back in my chair and suddenly felt washed over by a wave of exhaustion.

"Do you remember what was written in the engagement contract? It says that regardless of gender, our child will be the rightful heir to both of our families' assets.

"If you want me to raise this child, wouldn’t the child get to claim everything when he or she grows up?"

The words struck Clementine like a heavy blow. She turned pale in an instant and struggled to defend herself. "I could sign another agreement, have the child relinquish all inheritance rights. That way, we don't have to worry about that child contending with our child when..."

"I don't believe you." My tone was faint, but the conviction behind it was firm.

Clementine fell silent. She never imagined that I would ever say something so fatal to her.

For seven years, I had trusted her wholeheartedly. Tonight, everything changed.

I looked square into her eyes. The same pair of eyes that had witnessed the entirety of my youth.

When I proposed getting engaged to her when we were eighteen years old, my palms had been sweaty from nerves. She had held my hand and assured me, "Don't be afraid, I'm here."

During our four years in university, we spent countless hours in the library and worked on our assignments together. I still remember how she would bring me something to snack on whenever we pulled all-nighters.

During our first two years studying abroad, we lived in a small rented apartment. She used to cook for me even though she was clumsy in the kitchen.

When we finally returned home, I assumed that everything was going to fall into place for us. That was the first time I proposed that we officially get married.

At the time, she had rejected my proposal because she wanted to focus on her career after having just taken over the family business.

The second time I proposed, she asked me to wait until a project was finalized.

Then a third time, a fourth time, and a fifth… The reasons she gave became increasingly cursory.

The seventh time was on my birthday last year. Again, she told me to wait a little longer because she wanted what was best for me.

All that only for me to be told that she was pregnant with her assistant, Stanley Brickley’s child.

When she finally broke her silence, her voice was faint.

"Just give me a week to sort out things with the child. Will you please just give me one more chance?"