You Chose Her, So I Called Off Our Wedding Chapter 11
“Evelyn.”
I turned around.
Charles was standing a few steps away with no umbrella, and his shoulders were already half soaked.
He looked at Max, then at me, and there was too much in his eyes to read.
“Can we talk for a minute?”
The rain was coming down hard, drumming against the steps.
Standing under the umbrella, I suddenly
remembered how I used to wait for him in the rain, just like this, ages ago.
Waiting for him to come back after seeing Lucy.
Waiting for him to realize I was sick with a fever.
Waiting for him to finally make time to explain things to me.
Back then, I always thought that if I just waited a little longer, he’d finally put me first.
Looking back now, I realize how stupid I was.
I looked at him and said calmly, “No need.”
A hint of urgency flickered in his eyes.
“Evelyn, I only want to say one more thing…”
“Charles,” I cut him off.
He froze.
I reached up and gently adjusted my coat on my shoulders, my voice soft but clear.
“It’s too late,” I said.
His breath caught.
I looked at him, making sure every word landed.
I said, “Your childhood friend mattered more than! did.
“So now your regret doesn’t matter to me either.”
He stood there in the rain, frozen, his face pale as a ghost.
I didn’t look back at him.
As I turned, Max instinctively reached out to shield my head, making sure I didn’t bump into the car door.
It was such a natural gesture, like he’d done it a hundred times before.
I slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Through the glass, the last thing I saw was Charles standing in the rain, completely still.
But this time, I didn’t look back.
As the car pulled away, the wipers swept back and forth, wiping away the blurry night outside, bit by bit.
Max was driving when he suddenly asked, “How are you feeling?”
I leaned back in my seat and thought for a moment.
“I’m good,” I said.
“You mean it?” Max asked.
“Yeah, I mean it,” I replied.
He glanced at me, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Then how about we celebrate?” he asked.
“Celebrate what?” I asked.
“Celebrate you finally leaving the past behind,” Max said.
I looked at the city lights stretching out ahead and couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, let’s do it,” I replied.
“What do you want to eat?” Max asked.
“Barbecue.”
“Alright,” Max said.
The car was warm, and the sound of the rain was shut out.
I watched the street scenes flash by outside, and for the first time, I felt completely at peace inside.
Some people taught me how to love.
Some people taught me when to cut my losses.
The first kind taught how to give, and the second taught how to see straight.
And what actually mattered was never who left, or who let a person down, or who finally learned to regret it years too late.
What mattered was that one day a person stopped putting herself last.
And that I finally understood that love was not standing in line waiting for somebody to turn around.
I was making myself my own first priority.
And then waiting for the one who had tilted the umbrella her way from the very beginning to walk up beside her.
As the car turned onto a familiar street, Max freed one hand and closed it around mine.
Just for a second, then he let go.
It felt like confirmation, and it felt like a promise.
I looked down at the back of my hand where he had touched it and said quietly, “Max.”
“Yeah?” he replied.
“This time, you weren’t late,” I said.
He smiled.
“I never will be,” he said.
I turned my head and watched the neon outside, washed bright by the rain, and my mouth came up at the corners.
Not every late understanding in this world deserved forgiveness.
But every real, on–time act of caring deserved to be held onto.
And I never had to wait for anybody again.