I was ready to leave my boyfriend after six years without a proposal, until I overheard him arguing with my father. What they were hiding was far bigger than a secret engagement.
“Six years, Ethan. I can’t keep waiting forever.”
He stood in our bedroom doorway while I folded sweaters into a suitcase.
“I love you, Claire.”
He shut down.
“Then why won’t you marry me?”
He rubbed his forehead. “It’s not that simple.”
I’d heard that answer for three years. Ethan brought soup when I was sick and drove two hours to help Dad fix his roof. But whenever marriage came up, he shut down.
“Please, not tonight.”
We’d built a life together. We had Sunday morning pancakes, a favorite restaurant where the waiter knew our orders, and a ridiculous Christmas tradition of buying each other the ugliest sweaters we could find.
I’d imagined growing old with him.
Last Christmas, when my sister got engaged, he squeezed my hand under the table. Later, when I asked if he saw us doing the same someday, he said, “Please, not tonight.”
“I love you.”
I’d cried in the bathroom that evening while he pretended not to notice.
I was thirty-five now. I didn’t need a huge wedding. I just wanted to know we wanted the same future.
“Claire, please.” Ethan reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
“I love you. But I can’t spend another six years wondering whether you’ll ever choose me.”
I zipped my suitcase.
His face crumpled.
“I already chose you,” he whispered.
“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”
He had no answer. I zipped my suitcase.
Dad had offered me his spare room. He adored Ethan and spent Sundays watching baseball with him, so I expected him to talk me out of leaving.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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