You Chose Her, So I Called Off Our Wedding Chapter 09
After the ceremony, Max handed me a document.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The settlement. The court finalized it and Charles signed.”
I gave it a quick look.
The amounts, the schedule, and the terms were all laid out.
In the end, Charles sold the house we were supposed to live in together.
According to the evidence, I got back most of the down payment and renovation costs, and he also compensated me for the wedding expenses.
It wasn’t the full amount, but it was enough.
Enough for me to start getting back the self–respect I’d lost in that relationship.
I closed the file and said softly, “Thanks for all your hard work.”
Max looked at me and suddenly said, Congratulations.”
“Congratulations for what?” I asked.
“For being completely free.”
I froze for a moment.
Suddenly, a bittersweet ache welled up in my chest.
It wasn’t sadness.
It was the ache of walking a very long tunnel and stepping out into the sun that caught a person in the eyes.
I looked down and smiled. “Yeah, congratulations to me.”
That night, after the last guests had left, I went out back to take out the trash by myself.
There was an old streetlamp at the alley entrance, its light dim and flickering.
As soon as I stepped outside, I saw someone standing by a car.
It was Charles.
He’d lost so much weight that his suit looked loose on him.
The man who used to be so full of swagger now looked completely hollowed out, like someone had drained all the life from him overnight.
When he saw me, he took a hesitant step forward, then stopped.
“Evelyn,” he said.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He swallowed hard, like he had a thousand things
he wanted to say, but in the end, he barely managed to force out a single sentence.
“The studio looks like it’s doing well.”
I made a small sound.
The air was awkwardly silent.
After a moment, he said in a low voice, “I signed the agreement. I’ll transfer the money on time.”
“Okay.”
“That’s not why I came today,” he said.
I just stared at him, not saying a word.
He looked down, his fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry to you, face to face,” he said.
I’d waited so long to hear those words.
But when I finally heard it, there was no ripple left in me.
“Got it,” I said.
He looked up, and there was a deep exhaustion and pain in his eyes.
“Evelyn, I always believed that as long as you were the most important person to me, everything else. could be handled later. I thought you’d understand me. I thought you’d never leave.”
I listened in silence.
“And then I found out it doesn’t work that way,” he said, and his voice was raw. “Being important isn’t something you say. It’s something you choose. And I understood it far too late.”
I looked at him, and it struck me that this was the last shape this thing would ever take.
He finally understood.
And by the time he learned it, there was nothing left to use it on.
“Charles,” I said quietly, “it isn’t that you didn’t love me.”
His eyes reddened, brimming with tears.
I said, “You just loved yourself more.”
“You loved being depended on, being needed, being the one somebody couldn’t do without. So you always ran to whoever was falling apart, because that made you matter.
“And you forgot that real love isn’t playing rescuer everywhere. After you promise somebody, it’s
knowing how to say no, where the line is, and how to hold onto her.”
He stood there, his face pale as a sheet.
“You didn’t lose to Lucy, and you didn’t lose to Max, I said. “You lost to the version of you who was certain I’d always be there waiting.”
He opened his mouth, and in the end, nothing came out.
The wind picked up in that alley.
I pulled my coat tighter around myself and turned to leave.
Suddenly, I heard his voice behind me, low and hesitant.
“If I hadn’t gone to the hospital that day, would we have ended up any different?”
I paused for a moment, but didn’t turn around.
“No,” I said.
He stood there, stunned.
I replied calmly, “Because even if it hadn’t happened that day, it would’ve just happened again.”
With that, I turned and walked away.
As I pushed open the back door, Max was coming out, holding my coat.
When he saw me, he slipped it over my shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“It’s cold out there,” he said.
I nodded.
He shot a quick look past me at Charles standing at the end of the alley, said nothing, and just took the
trash bag from my hand.
“I’ll toss it,” he said.
I watched him walk off, then suddenly called out,” Max.”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“Are you free?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Want to grab a drink?” I asked.
He smiled.
“Sure,” he said.
That night, we sat on the rooftop of my studio, drinking beer.
The city breeze was soft, and the traffic below was just a bunch of glowing lines snaking through the night.
Downstairs, Grace and the others were cleaning up, and their laughing came up every so often.
I held the bottle and said, “I used to be terrified that people would think I’d failed.”
“And now?” Max asked.
“Now I’m glad I did.”
He tilted his head, looking at me.
“Why?” he asked.
I thought about it and answered honestly. “Because
it hurt enough that I finally know what I want.”
Max was quiet for two seconds, and then he laughed under his breath.
“And do you know now?”
I looked out at the city lights and just nodded.
“Some of it.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, nobody gets to leave me standing in one place waiting, over and over.
“And the life I want from here on doesn’t get built around somebody else.”
“And one more thing.” I stopped and turned to look
at him. “If a man wants me, he has to make me feel like I’m not the backup, not the afterthought, and not the answer he settled on after weighing his options.”