Chapter 2

Because I loved him too much to let go, the topic of marriage was swept under the rug again and again.

Still, at our age, it was impossible to avoid forever.

A few weeks later, we went to a party with some friends. After everyone had a few drinks, the conversation inevitably turned to us.

People started teasing Lucas, telling him he needed to lock things down before someone else swept me off my feet.

"Seriously, Lucas, you guys have been together forever. It's time to put a ring on it. If you don't give Elena an answer soon, she might just get tired of waiting and leave you."

Our friend meant it as harmless banter, but sitting next to Lucas, I immediately felt the tension radiating off him.

The friend kept joking, and Lucas just downed drink after drink in stony silence.

Sensing things were about to go south, I quickly tried to change the subject.

"Don't cover for him, Elena," the friend laughed. "If he's dragging his feet, I'll introduce you to someone better. With your looks, you've got guys lining up anyway."

The heavy thud of Lucas slamming his glass onto the table instantly killed the room's noise.

Everyone turned to look at him. His face was dark with fury as he locked eyes with the guy who had spoken.

"Introduce her to someone better? Try it and see what happens. Who the hell asked for your opinion? Mind your own damn business—"

Seeing that he was about to lose control, I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the door.

With the help of a few other friends, we finally managed to get him outside.

The drive home was suffocatingly quiet.

I didn't say a word, and he leaned back against the passenger seat with his eyes closed, silent.

It was hard to describe how I felt in that moment. It felt like I had spent months building up elaborate excuses to convince myself we were fine, only for him to smash through them and remind me of how pathetic my denial really was.

After sitting in silence for what felt like forever, I finally started the engine and drove us back to our apartment.

When we arrived, I didn't wait for him. I grabbed my purse and walked inside alone.

We rarely fought, but lately, every single argument stemmed from this one topic.

I had started avoiding it, but other people brought it up anyway.

And every time it surfaced, it ended in anger.

I quickly washed up and crawled into bed. When I heard him come in, I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.

He quietly grabbed some clothes and went to the guest bathroom down the hall so he wouldn't disturb me.

I assumed he would sleep in the guest room.

Whenever he drank too much, he always slept in the spare room on his own, worried about smelling like alcohol or waking me up.

Lying there in the dark, my mind was racing too fast to sleep.

"If you're still awake, sit up and drink some honey water before you sleep."

I opened my eyes to find him standing by the bed, holding a warm mug.

His eyes were filled with helplessness and hurt. My heart squeezed painfully, softening against my will.

I stared at him in silence. He seemed at a loss for words, too.

The standoff lasted for a while before I finally broke the quiet.

"Leave it on the nightstand. I'll drink it in a minute. Thanks."

Even though my heart was aching for him, my tone remained distant.

Hearing that polite "thanks" seemed to trigger something in him; panic flashed across his face.

"Don't thank me. We don't need to say things like that to each other."

His words only stoked the resentment and humiliation burning inside me.

Was I not good enough for him? Was I not worthy of being his wife?

I didn't know.

Every time I wanted to give up, he did something that made me feel so intensely loved.

"Yes, we do," I said quietly. "We're just dating. For all we know, we'll end up as strangers anyway."

Part of me said it just to hurt him, but it was also the simple truth.

I couldn't wait around forever. I needed love, but I also needed stability.

If he was never going to marry me, I couldn't just stay in relationship limbo for the rest of my life.

He flinched hard at my words. Suddenly sinking down to sit on the floor beside my bed, his eyes welled with tears.

"Elena, please don't be like this. It's my fault, I know it is, but please don't say that. I really am planning our future. We're going to make it, I promise."

His voice broke, thick with tears.

I hated this. It made me feel like I was holding a gun to his head, forcing him to marry me.

Yet I couldn't hold it in anymore. I asked him what kind of future he was actually planning. Were we just going to date until we were eighty?

Did "dating forever" mean that if someone better came along, he could just walk away whenever he wanted?

He didn't answer any of my questions.

He only reacted to the last implication.

"We are never breaking up."