Chapter 33
VIVIENNE
My eyes linger on the flickering cursor of my Word document, watching it disappear and appear, over and over again.
I’m supposed to be writing the synthesis portion of my upcoming paper while simultaneously working on the third and final project of my PhD. But that’s proven to be difficult when my mind keeps floating elsewhere.
I tap my phone screen, hoping to see his name, only to be met with another dozen texts from Evelyn and Sutton asking me where I’ve been.
The answer is simple—I’ve been actively avoiding everyone. Phil. Margaret. Sutton. Evelyn. I wake up early to miss the girls on my way out of the house and come back when I know they’re fully passed out. I've even stopped going to Brews&Bookmarks.
They’ve all caught on that something is up, and that’s exactly why I can’t be around them. I’m not too eager to rehash what went down between my supposed fiancé and me.
Tears well up in my eyes at the thought of it all.
Nate has been cold and distant since we returned from Italy. And while I’ve tried convincing myself that it had something to do with us getting what we wanted—I know that’s false. This man is friendly, and kind, and oh-so caring of the people he loves. This isn’t like him.
I fall back into my chair at the graduate offices, gaze lingering on our last texts to each other.
Nate: Looking smoking hot, Wifey
He had sent it when we were sitting next to each other during someone else’s talk at the conference, minutes before mine.
Vivienne: We’ve gone over this. Don’t call me, Wifey.
Nate: Does Master sound good to you, then?
Vivienne: Is there something you aren’t telling me?
Nate: Fine…I’ll settle on calling you Viv.
My heart warms as I read the nickname over.
I’d never been a fan of them, hence why everyone referred to me by my full name. When he did it, though, it felt different—and that somehow applies to everything he would do.
The urge to text him does flare up once in a while, but I’ve learned to restrain it. I’ve tried knocking on his door to check on him, but I eventually gave up. I wasn’t going to chase after a guy who did not want me back.
“A little distracted, aren’t we?”
I roll my eyes at the voice behind me and ignore Arjun’s advances at riling me up. His energy is not appreciated—especially when I’m already in a bad mood.
“This is why you needed to focus on yourself, Vivienne. Your head has been elsewhere since that relationship started.”
I pop off my chair, making sure to roll backward and straight into Arjun. The slight cracking of bones erupts as it passes over his feet, and I can’t stop the satisfaction I get from hearing a grown-ass man squeal like a little girl.
“That was completely unnecessary!” Arjun looks me dead in the eyes with fire and animosity. “You knew I was behind you!”
He glares, and I glare back even harder.
“The offhanded comments, the bringing me down to make me seem like I’m lesser than you—that was completely unnecessary. And I’m fed up with it. Stop hating on me when I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”
Arjun’s eyes go blank, void of all emotions. I roll my eyes once the silence settles. He knows he’s in the wrong.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” He tries to rebut, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s always been lighthearted teasing, and you know it.”
I huff in disbelief. “Don’t you try to gaslight me, Arjun. I’m not the girl I once was.”
“And what are you going to do, Vivienne?” His lips purse, eyes going wide and innocent. “Run back to your millionaire fiancé?”
I step on his toes, hard, the hardest I’ve ever stepped on anyone’s toes, and revel in the sound of his cries as he hunches over in pain.
“Fuck you, Arjun,” I dig a finger in the center of his large forehead. “I hope women realize what an undatable man you are and stay at arm’s length…Oh wait! They already do!”
For good measure, I step on his other foot, enjoying the sound of his pain. No snarky comebacks. No derogatory words. I really should have done this way earlier.
“And be careful where you go for treatment.” I purposely shove my hip into his shoulder. “I have connections in the medical field.”
With one last kick to the back of his knee, Arjun stumbles, plopping straight on his small ass. He looks up at me, stunned, but I don’t pay him any mind. I grab my belongings from my desk and make my way out of the lab.
The long locker-lined hallway stretches before me, and I walk with my head held high, one foot in front of the other as I channel my inner Diva Goose. My untied trench coat trails somewhere behind me, adding to the confidence—until I step outside and the December air finally hits.
I’ll never understand why Arjun despises me as much as he does, but it’s a lesson learned. Some people hate with no apparent reason, simply because they have nothing better to do.
That knowledge used to eat me up inside, but I don’t care anymore. I’ve finally stood up to him, and if he dares try anything on me ever again, I won’t be afraid to put him in his place.
But as good as that all felt, it didn’t patch the broken pieces of my heart—or the fact that I was on my way home to isolate myself from the rest of the world, once again.
———
Somewhere along my commute, I realized that keeping my emotions buried is what got me in this situation in the first place. People don’t get anywhere in life doing it all alone. Humans really were social animals. And that’s how I find myself standing in front of Phil and Margaret’s brownstone.
Within seconds of knocking, I’m greeted with bright eyes and an even wider smile. She, too, hasn’t seen me in a while. But her excitement fades, softening when she really takes me in.
“Oh, Vivienne. What’s wrong?” Margaret pulls me into her arms, squeezing tight.
I lose myself in her warmth, realizing this is what I need all along—hugs and comfort from those I love.
“I don’t know where it all went wrong.” My voice cracks when I finally say it out loud.
The tears I’d been holding back make their way out one by one, soaking my face and, most notably, her fuzzy sweatshirt. And if it weren’t for her little shuffle that brings us inside the warmth of her home, I’m certain those salty streams would be frozen by now.
Somewhere between my sadness, the kitchen, and the backyard, we find ourselves on her back porch, staring at the falling snowflakes with a cup of hot cocoa in hand.
The thick mittens, hat, and scarf—wrapped so tightly they might suffocate me—are also Margaret’s addition. Apparently, I’m not dressed appropriately enough for the weather, and I think she’s right.
“Is this about the boy?” Margaret asks, looking over at me with soft eyes.
My head bows low, and I watch the steam rising from the brown liquid—its surface rippling when a single tear falls in.
She’s asking the question like she already knows the answer, and I take a sip of my drink in the name of avoidance. It’s hot—I knew that from the looks of it—but I’ve already been burned once this past week, once more wasn’t going to do much.
However, Margaret is never one to take silence as an appropriate response.
“You know what I think is funny?” she says, looking over at me intently despite my efforts to avoid her eyes. “You tried so hard to prove that this guy was nothing more than an acquaintance, and look at the two of you now. So madly in love but too damn afraid to face it head-on.”
My gaze drifts around the backyard, cloaked in a glistening sheet of snow that hides the grass and crowns the wooden fence. The bed that once held Phil’s multicolored eruption of flowers is nowhere to be seen, as well.
Love.
The word leaves her lips so easily, but was it even that to begin with?
While we, in some ways, confessed it to each other that night in the hotel room, it all feels convoluted.
The rom-coms made it as clear as day: people who truly loved each other stuck together through thick and thin. Nate wouldn’t even tell me what was going through his mind. He just up and left, as if none of what we’d gone through mattered at all.
“He won’t even talk to me, so you can get the thoughts of a reunion out of your head,” I mumble under my breath.
“Oh, honey.” Margaret wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. I blink hard at the physical affection as another tear finds itself in my drink.
They do say chocolate and salt go well together.
“Did you know I’ve been there?” Margaret admits softly.
I look up to meet her gaze for the first time since I’ve barged in here, eyes wide with hope. “You’ve had tears mix with your hot chocolate?”
Margaret chuckles. “Fortunately, no,” she says before quieting. The memories seem to pass through her, reflected in the pale of her irises, one by one, dimming her light.
“I told you bits and pieces of Phil’s and my story, but never the whole thing.” She takes a step away, gloved hands wrapping tight around her mug as she stares at her own drink.
I stay quiet, careful not to disturb her as she collects her thoughts.
“A year after we got married, we decided to try for a baby, but somehow each pregnancy test came back negative. I was twenty-five at the time—too young to have trouble conceiving—and after two years of failure, we found out I was infertile.”
She does nothing but stare ahead, her eyes growing glassy.
“For the following months, I couldn’t bear seeing my reflection in the mirror, and I couldn’t handle my husband looking at me either.
It felt like I failed as a woman and as a wife, especially when all we’ve ever wanted was to be parents.
” Her voice cracks at the words, the tears running down her face.
“Naturally, I avoided the topic at all costs, and eventually, him. I purposely threw myself into whatever distraction I could find, hoping it would get better with time, but it never did. I couldn’t live with myself knowing I couldn’t make Phil a father, so I went behind his back and filed for divorce. ”
I gasp at the admission. “No!"
Margaret lets out a pained chuckle. “I had it all planned out: leave the papers on his dresser and be out of the house when he finds them. But in true Phil fashion, he tracked me down.”
“That must have been so hard to do,” I say, unable to fathom giving up the person I love out of love for them.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve done to date.
” She nods with a sad smile. “When he found me, we fought long and hard—him trying to make me stay, me insisting he could get everything he wanted with someone else. Phil said he didn’t care about the children as long as he had me, but it took so long to overcome those self-deprecating beliefs.
We’ve fought for each other since, and that’s how you’re finding us here today—happy and in love. ”
I pull her close, resting the side of my head against hers.
I admired those elders so much, thinking they had the kind of love you could only find once in a lifetime. And while that still holds true, their struggles have added a depth to their relationship I hadn’t noticed before.
“All that to say,” Margaret continues. “People have things going on in their lives that you may not be aware of. And the only way to sort it out is through communication. He may be distant right now, Vivienne, but that man loves you. I see it in the pictures they print in the papers—you can’t fake something like that.
Give him time to sort through his stuff. He’ll come around.”
I want to believe her, with all my heart, but I’ve set unbelievably high expectations for myself one too many times. And the only place that led me was into a rabbit hole of disappointment when things didn’t go as planned.
“Hey!” She nudges my shoulder at the sight of my face. “Positive thoughts only, or you’ll send me into cardiac arrest. Do you want that?”
I frown. “No. Of course not.”
Margaret sets her finished cup of hot cocoa on the window ledge and places mine right next to hers before she wraps me in her signature bear hug.
“Things always work out, Vivienne. You may not see it in the moment, but something brighter is always on the other side. I may not have had kids, but I found you. So don’t worry about Nate. That man will come around.”
Another quiet sniffle slips out, and a choked laugh escapes me when she smacks my back in disapproval.
“No crying when things always work out.” Margaret pulls back with a firm look. “Now, what are you going to do?” She asks.
When I groan, she hits my side. “I’m going to fight,” I reply eventually.
“What are you going to do?” Her voice grows louder.
“I’m going to fight!” The words leave me with more confidence as a new wave of determination courses through me.
In the beginning, I was fighting to resist him, but now, I guess I’ll have to fight harder to get him to stay. Nate and I share something special, I know it. Something was off that night at the hotel, and whatever it was that broke his spirit, we’ll work to overcome it.
With one last wipe across my face, I take out my phone, determined to try once again, when I find he’s already beat me to the punch.
Nate: This arrangement is over.
My heart drops to my stomach, and all fight in me leaves at once.
Margaret was wrong—there is nothing left to fight for when the other person has already made up their mind.
That’s when I slip off the engagement ring that’d been weighing down my finger for the past four months, only to feel an even heavier load on my heart.