No Longer Stuck Waiting

The screen flashed to confirm that the marriage appointment had been successfully canceled right as my fiancé, Lucas Vance, stepped out of the bathroom.

Seeing me sitting motionless on the edge of the bed, he glanced at the wall clock and knit his brows. "Is there something you need to say? It's almost nine o'clock. I need to get some rest."

I stared at him for two hollow seconds before quietly shaking my head. "No."

He nodded dismissively. "Alright. Sleep tight."

Oblivious to any shift in my demeanor, he turned on his heels and walked cleanly back into his bedroom.

I sat in the dim light, my mind a complete blank. Just as I prepared to stand up, the blacked-out laptop screen suddenly flared to life.

Synced seamlessly with his phone, the notification of an incoming call from Lila Winters popped up. And the man who claimed he couldn't speak, text, or look at a device after 9:00 p.m. to protect his strict sleep schedule—answered the call in a second.

It was as if he were terrified that the person on the other end might suffer through a single moment of waiting.

A cold, mocking laugh escaped my throat. How incredibly thoughtful of him! Too bad his beautiful exception was never meant for me, the woman who was supposed to become his wife.

When I finally walked into the master bedroom, Lucas had already shut his eyes, presenting the perfect picture of deep sleep.

But tonight, my eyes locked onto the details I had spent years blinding myself to: the phone deliberately flipped face-down on the nightstand, and the discreet, black wireless earbud tucked deep into his right ear.

I switched off the light. Enveloped by the darkness, I unlocked my phone and finally typed out a reply to the institutional transfer notice my director had extended to me the previous week.

I had originally declined the offer, terrified of putting a long-distance strain on my impending marriage with Lucas. But now, that concern was entirely irrelevant.

My director replied almost instantly: [Have you thought this through? An assignment at the Embassy in France requires a minimum commitment of five years. If your mind is made up, we will initiate the diplomatic visa paperwork immediately. You leave in three days.]

I typed back: [Yes.]

The breathing of the man beside me remained perfectly measured and steady. I supposed that across town, Lila had drifted off into a profound sense of security as well.

When I lay back down, the space between Lucas and me felt like an unbridgeable chasm. I stared blankly into the shadows for a moment before closing my eyes and letting myself fall asleep.

...

The next morning, I woke to find Lucas already standing in the walk-in closet, adjusting his collar. I reached across the mattress and brushed my hand against his phone.

It was still warm.

Silently packing the documentation required for my diplomatic visa, I cast one final look in his direction and moved toward the front door.

As our paths crossed, Lucas stopped, looking at me with a flash of genuine bewilderment. "Aren't you going to fix my tie today?"

I smirked. "Not anymore. You should learn how to do it yourself. Or... have your assistant do it."

Lucas set his briefcase down, stepping toward me with a deep frown. "Are you talking about Lila?"

The mere mention of her name caused the severe, rigid lines of his face to soften instinctively. A trace of warmth danced behind his eyes.

"She does know how," he muttered. "She's an incredibly attentive girl. But what does her being organized have to do with you tying my tie?"

I stayed silent, not knowing where to begin, so I didn't bother explaining.

"It doesn't matter," I replied simply. "Just don't want to do it anymore."

Lucas pressed his lips into a thin line, his irritation palpable. "Suit yourself. Oh, by the way, don't bother dropping off lunch at my office today. Lila just messaged me, saying she's bringing something over."

My fingers paused on the doorknob. "Okay."

Because of his erratic work hours, Lucas suffered from severe, chronic gastric issues. No matter how demanding my own schedule had been, I had spent years waking up early to prepare specialized, home-cooked meals to protect his health.

But this was perfect. From here on out, I was finally free.

Refusing to waste another ounce of energy catering to his temper, I opened the door, stepped through, and let it click shut behind me.

I spent the morning at the embassy finalizing my five-year diplomatic visa, then proceeded to the main branch to secure my deployment orders.

Slipped safely inside my bag, the papers felt liberating. Standing outside the gates of the Foreign Service Institute, I watched the peach blossoms slowly unfurling in the spring breeze.

For the first time in five years, a wave of lightness washed over me. Remembering one final task, I pulled out my phone, opened our wedding registry application, and permanently deleted Lucas's identification data from the profile.

From this day onward, I would never use it again.