Prologue #2
Zach might have his flaws, but punctuality was never one of them. Ten minutes, I can excuse. Maybe he was stuck in traffic. But we’re at 45 minutes. That’s way past an ‘oopsie’ amount of time to be late.
“Oh, hon…” She hands Vanessa our plates.
I stare at one of the chandeliers, my thoughts spiraling.
He promised he’d be here. After missing our anniversary and my birthday. And I know why. It will be the same excuse he had for those two days. “I just had to be at work, Kylie. It was important.”
And somehow, everything at work is more important than me.
Apparently even more significant than the most important evening of my career so far. I mean, tonight is the first time I get one of those damn awards. It might not be an Oscar, and more of a gimmick than actual honor, but to me, it marks a milestone. One I’d love to have my husband by my side for.
And he just forgot about it.
“Don’t give up yet,” Gabriella whispers and squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Maybe he’ll still make it.” I glance at her and she returns it with the expression of someone who knows full well they’re grasping at straws.
“Sure,” I mumble, taking a champagne flute from a passing server. I appreciate her optimism, but I know it in my heart. And she does, too. Over the years she heard me talk about him so much, she must know him almost as well as I do at this point.
He won’t make it.
Zach and I became a couple in high school. The moment we met, I was a goner. His shy smile, intelligent eyes, the gentle way he talked… I fell for him, head over heels. Luckily, he felt similarly and two weeks into the school year, we became official.
He was my first boyfriend, the first and only guy I ever kissed.
We were attached at the hip, basically inseparable.
After graduation, we went to the same university.
Him for computer science, I for marketing.
It was stressful and hard, but somehow, we made it work.
So when he proposed during our last year of university, I assumed we’d be together for the rest of our lives.
And I was so thrilled about it. I loved him. I still do. That’s why it hurts so much to stand here, without him by my side.
Even though we are married, and should be more in love, more secure in our relationship than before we said ‘I do’ it, we’re drifting apart.
Hell, we barely even see each other.
His job as a software engineer is demanding, and unlike mine, his company expects him in the office every single day. Which is not an excuse. There’s a difference between commuting for a regular workday and spending so much time at work, your wife only barely remembers your hair color.
At this point, it must have been three days since I last saw him. He comes back when I’m already asleep and leaves before I wake up. The only reasons I know he’s been home are a towel in a place I didn’t leave it, a meal I prepared gone from the fridge, and more dirty clothes in the hamper.
No notes. No sweet messages. Nothing.
Kylie: Where are you?
Even as I type out the words, the knowledge tightens around my throat.
“He won’t come,” I whisper and take another big sip of champagne. If I say it out loud, maybe it won’t hurt as much when it actually becomes true.
“Probably.” Gabriella shrugs, jaw tensing.
She lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head.
“I’m sorry. But look at you, girl. He’s missing out.
I mean, that dress…” She whistles and motions at my cleavage and the high slit.
The fabric is draped in a way so I can easily hide it in the right pose for the more professional moments of the evening.
Right now, though it’s on full display. “You’ve definitely got the legs for it. ”
“Thank you, thank you.” The dark blue dress was a lucky find at a secondhand store downtown. I’m not a big fan of dressing up and ninety-nine percent of my wardrobe consist of leger-ish-but-fancy-enough clothes for virtual client meetings. Meaning leggings and blouses.
I didn’t want to spend money on a fancy dress I’ll wear one time at a corporate event, but this baby cost me a whole twenty dollars. I even splurged on a hairdresser and makeup artist, thinking the event might turn into a nice little date night with Zach.
I thought wrong.
And when a voice echoes from the tall ceilings of the swanky event space, I get my confirmation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.”
One last time, I look around and try to find the once familiar brown hair, the navy suit he always wears to events like this.
To no avail.
Vanessa tugs at my wrist and we find our assigned seats. Thankfully, my team’s seats are in the row behind me. As Gabriella turns to her husband to whisper something into his ear, I stare at the empty chair to my right. Because that’s not humiliating at all.
“Sorry, sorry, coming through!”
Vanessa makes her way through the flurry of people trying to find their chairs and drops into the seat next to me with a wink. Only a second later, the lights dim and spotlights hit the stage.
“Did you actually think we’d let you sit here all alone?” She nudges me and laces her fingers with mine. “I’ve got you.” I stare at her.
So much is hitting me at once. Disappointment at Zach. Anger. Sadness. And gratitude for having Vanessa, Gabriella and the rest of my team with me.
“You’re the best.” I give her a teary smile and squeeze her hand, emotions settling in the back of my throat.
The house is completely silent when I get home. The lights are off. Abby, my dog, is still with our neighbor Betty. She adores watching her on the rare occasion I need an evening to myself. Since I didn’t know when I’d be back, we agreed for her to keep Abby overnight.
But I know Zach is home. The door wasn’t locked, his shoes are carelessly kicked into a corner and his jacket is on the ground.
With a sigh, I kick it aside and almost kiss the ground. Damn. Champagne and high heels aren’t the best combination. Who would’ve thought?
Emotions clog my throat as I kneel to take off my shoes and carefully place them on the shelf. My feet barely make a sound as I pad into the kitchen without turning on the lights, the cold award heavy in my hand.
I set it on the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the bar stools, staring at it in the dim passive light from our cabinet lights and a hint of blue glow from the moon shining through the kitchen window.
My thoughts race at a million miles per hour, but one thought keeps popping up:
I can’t do this anymore.
The realization sits heavy in my stomach and even heavier on my mind. My eyes sting as hot tears run down my cheeks.
Ten years.
When he missed our ten-year anniversary earlier this month, I should have known where we were headed instead of clinging to this relationship like a drowning woman to a life raft.
Is today the first time I thought it? Maybe.
So far it was ‘why are we married if we don’t even see each other anymore?
’ Or ‘Is this what marriage is supposed to be? A roommate arrangement?’ Quickly followed by ‘Pull yourself together, Kylie. You’re overreacting.
’ A nagging little voice in the back of my mind kept repeating these sentences to me, over and over again.
Deep down, I know somewhere deep down, he’s still the guy I fell in love with. The guy who blushed so red I was worried he’d pass out when he invited me to prom.
The guy who stuttered with anxiety when he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Who bought me a thousand daisies because I once said I found it romantic when a love interest did it on a show I was watching.
Who gave a thirty-minute speech about how much he loved me and couldn’t wait to spend the rest of my life with me, right before proposing.
But I’m done fighting for his attention. For an ounce of acknowledgement.
I’m so damn exhausted.
I’ve fought for us the past four years. Ever since he started this job, it’s been a struggle to get him to remember I exist.
At first, I bit back, swallowed down my needs and let him prioritize his career without a complaint.
I got up early to make him breakfast before work, packed him a lunch and didn’t complain when he didn’t come home.
But somewhere along the line, we both changed too much for me to keep up the pretense of a happy wife.
He’s career-driven, and I’m not.
Sure, awards like the tiny one right in front of me are nice, but it’s only a pretty gimmick, a piece of plastic I can only brag to coworkers about. Not something I’d sacrifice my life for.
Living my life is my priority. To have fun, to spend it with my loved ones. Which includes him.