He quickly ushered Mike to another room to talk to her alone.
"Jessica, I know it wasn't easy accepting how things turned out," he started.
"But over the years, Wade really has shown you nothing but love."
"Youthful love often fades. You'll understand someday."
The weight of the day bore down on her, prompting her to vent, "I tried calling him, no answer. Didn't even text back."
"Doesn't he see if there was something between me and Mike, he wouldn't have stood a chance?"
Her dad gave her a reassuring pat. "Let's just eat for now. I'll call him later."
The elders sat at the head of the table, with Jessica and Mike on either side, the younger family around them.
Throughout the meal, Mike kept serving her, and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted.
That sight twisted a knot in my chest.
Childhood sweethearts—they share a special bond, one I couldn't compete with.
I never got to be that intimate, not even with food.
When we were newlyweds, I once tried.
She threw it all away—plate and all.
"You know those fork and spoon carry germs, right? All that swapping spit? What are you thinking?" she had snapped.
I'd never crossed that line again ever since.
It wasn't the germs she despised; it was me.
Meanwhile, her mother was animatedly chatting with the other ladies, boasting away.
Women at this age would never shut their mouths on bragging about their sons and daughters.
Proudly, she declared, "I'm no good with phones, but Wade set this up—see, no ads at all."
Aunt Lucy agreed, "That's smart! I'll get my daughter to set mine up too."
Aunt Susan caught something odd, pointing at the phone's call log, "Who keeps calling you?"
My mother-in-law frowned, dismissing it, "Just scam callers."
"Weird though, they've been saying since this morning that Wade died in a car crash."
"Even claimed it was on the coastal highway."
"What a prank! Wade's on his business trip right now, and there's no way anything would happen to him on that highway/"
Crash—
My wife's hand trembled, sending her dinnerware clattering to the floor.
