Chapter 2
While David was in the shower, he instructed me to wash the clothes he’d worn the previous night. Se
previous night. Seeing the lipstick stain so prominently on his jacket collar, the flame I’d
held onto for years instantly extinguished. I wiped off the lipstick without a word, then placed his clothes in a dry–cleaning bag.
Just then, a message came from Erik Brown: *“Cora, you know I won’t give up.‘
11*
Erik, a mutual friend of David and mine, had confessed to me countless times over the past decade, but I had always turned him down. However, now I felt I finally had an answer. I
opened the chat and typed the response he’d been waiting for all these years: *“When do we
get married?“*
Within a second, Erik replied, *“Give me a month! I’ll come and marry you!“*
After putting down my phone, I felt an unusual sense of relief. Just one month–it would
pass quickly.
Later that afternoon, when I returned home with the dry–cleaned clothes, David was sober.
His mood seemed lighter as he grabbed my hand with enthusiasm.
“Helena came back because she got divorced,” he said excitedly. “We need to help her settle
back in!”
“Let’s see, you can start by cleaning up the master bedroom and moving out so Helena can stay there. Oh, and she loves pink, so head to the mall and pick out some pink furniture for
her.”
“And one more thing, she’s a bit of a germaphobe! She’s also allergic to peanuts, so be
careful about that…” David went on, listing every tiny detail about Helena with remarkable
attentiveness.
I stood there, stunned by his thoroughness. When we were together, he often ordered seafood even though he knew I was allergic. I’d thought he was just a careless person. But now I saw he could be both attentive and thoughtful–only, that side of him wasn’t for me.
Noticing my daze, David asked, “What’s wrong? Did I give you too much to remember?”
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When He Wouldn’t Marry Me, His Friend Did
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Chapter 2
“I can’t remember it all,” I murmured.
“Idiot! Just grab a notebook and write it down!” he snapped, then went to his study, grabbed a notebook, and tossed it at me.
Even though he’d once told me, drunkenly, that I was just the daughter of a maid to him, I couldn’t deny that, over the years, he had shown me a unique gentleness that no one else had. On my eighteenth birthday, he rented out my favorite sky–view couple’s restaurant just for us. Every year on my mother’s death anniversary, he’d spend the entire day by my side. And last year, when I argued with his assistant, he stayed by my bedroom door all night, reassuring me not to dwell on it.
But now, with Helena back, all those moments of kindness would soon be gone. I knew my role as a backup was no longer needed.
Obediently, I took the notebook and noted down everything he’d asked. As he prepared to leave, I called out to him. “David.”
“What now? Haven’t you written it all down?” he replied impatiently.
“No,” I said, looking down. “I…I want to move out.”
2
“Move out?” David looked at me like he’d just heard a joke. “Where would you even go? You’ve been with me since you were young. Without this place, where could you go?”
“I’m getting married.”
A
anid
