"Willow, I'm with you three hundred and sixty-four days a year. Can't I have one day to myself?"
We didn't speak for three months after that.
I was heartbroken, miserable, drifting through my days in a fog. One afternoon I missed a step on a staircase.
The tiny life I hadn't even known about yet was gone, just like that.
Curtis rushed to the hospital the moment he heard. He stayed up all night, tending to me with a gentleness I'd never seen before.
Neither of us mentioned what had happened that day. It was an unspoken pact.
And every Memorial Day after that, I knew better than to ask.
The cold war stretched all the way to my birthday, when Curtis appeared in front of me holding a bouquet of red roses.
"Willow, let's get married."
An old movie was playing on the TV behind us. The leads were kissing goodbye in the rain. It was his favorite film. We'd watched it together at least ten times.
When I didn't answer, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his chin against my shoulder. His voice was rough.
"I've been thinking about this for a long time. I always told myself I needed to give you the best of everything first."
"But now I just want to build a home with you. I want to wake up every morning and see your face."
I felt nothing. Not a ripple.
"Curtis, are you truly over Lena?"
A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, there and gone.
He cradled my face in both hands, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Willow, let the past stay in the past. Trust me."
On the surface, things went back to the way they'd been.
But I was the only one who knew there was no going back. I was just giving myself time to say goodbye in silence.
Curtis threw himself into wedding planning with infectious enthusiasm, browsing gowns and rings, consulting event planners.
I watched it all from behind a pane of frosted glass, like a silent film that had nothing to do with me.
His excitement and anticipation seemed genuine enough, yet none of it stirred even a spark of hope in my chest.
Then came the night of the proposal.
Curtis wore a tailored suit. He lowered himself onto one knee.
Before a single word left his mouth, he saw Lena clap a hand over her mouth and storm out, slamming the door behind her.
He looked at me, guilt already flooding his face, and moved to go after her.
I grabbed his hand. All I wanted was to hold on to one last scrap of dignity.
"Can you at least wait until this is over?"