"Are you out of your mind? The fruit's right there on the branch and you won't pick it! What kind of game are you playing? By the time you decide you want to get married, she might not want you anymore!"
I let out a quiet laugh.
"What if she's the one who doesn't want to get married? To me?"
My mother went silent for a beat, then her scolding came back twice as fierce.
"Then you clearly did something wrong! Swallow your pride and sweet-talk her. You've spent years building her up from nothing. Don't tell me you're going to walk away with nothing to show for it!"
Eight years with Carrie. She always said the same thing: career first, family later.
But when she finally made it, the family she wanted wasn't with me.
It wasn't that I hadn't tried. Trying just didn't matter.
For eight years, I'd shelved my own dreams to help build hers. When we lived in that basement apartment, she ate instant noodles while I filled up on the broth.
I'd proposed more times than I could count, all for the chance to call her my wife.
She'd gotten pregnant three times without telling me, and three times she'd ended it. I'd swallowed that too.
All because she said the timing wasn't right. She didn't want a child to suffer alongside us.
I loved her, so whatever she said, no matter how deeply it cut, I gave her what she wanted.
Just like tonight. She said she wanted to get a marriage license with her childhood sweetheart.
In that moment, even as my heart split open, I felt a strange sense of relief.
Better this way. At least I wouldn't have to keep groveling in the dirt, waiting for her to marry me.
My mom was still on the phone, chattering away about how to win a girl's heart. The grievances piled up in my chest suddenly lost all desire to be spoken.
"Mom, the wedding's off. I'm not marrying her."
I hung up and called the wedding planning company to cancel tomorrow's ceremony.
The emcee went quiet for a beat before speaking.
"Ms. Delgado already called about this. But she asked us to keep the decorations and banners in storage for three years. That's going to be tough. Most of it's single-use material..."
It hit me instantly. It wasn't that she hadn't had time to notify the guests on both sides.
She just didn't want to deal with the questions.
And she assumed I'd be like those cheap decorations, sitting in storage, waiting for her for three years.