Exactly where she had left me earlier that evening. When she walked in, the first thing she noticed was the boxes. Four of them stacked neatly beside the door. Her coats folded on top, the framed wedding invitation sitting right at the front.
She froze for about two seconds, then her face twisted into irritation instead of confusion. She asked what the hell this was supposed to be. I told her calmly that I packed her things so she could take them tonight. That's when the attitude kicked in.
She dropped her purse on the counter and started talking fast, the way she does when she thinks she can bulldoze a conversation. She said I was being dramatic. She asked if this was about her being late. She said normal people don't pack someone's belongings like a psycho just because of a work dinner.
I didn't argue. I turned my laptop toward her and showed her the reservation confirmation email. Her eyes moved across the screen for maybe two seconds before she looked away. Then she rolled her eyes.
Not panic, not guilt, just annoyance. She said Nico was just someone she ran into recently and they decided to catch up. She said the anniversary note was probably something the restaurant added automatically. She said I was overreacting and embarrassing myself.
I listened to the whole speech without interrupting. When she finished, I told her I had already canceled the wedding. That was the first moment she actually looked shocked. Her eyebrows went up and she asked what I meant by canceled.
I explained it slowly. Venue, catering, photographer, website, everything. For the first time that night, she stopped talking. Then she asked the only question she seemed to care about.
"What about the deposits?" I told her some were refundable, some were not, but the bigger point was that there wasn't going to be a wedding anymore. Her expression changed again, this time into pure anger. She said I had no right to make that decision without her.
I reminded her that I was the one paying for most of it while she was out celebrating an anniversary with her ex. The apartment went very quiet after that. Laura looked at the boxes again. Then she laughed in that short, sharp way and said I was acting like a jealous child.
I shrugged and told her the boxes were ready whenever she wanted to take them. Laura didn't move toward the boxes. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the counter like she was preparing for an argument she thought she could win. She said I was blowing something small into a huge problem.
She repeated that Nico was just someone she met for dinner. She said adults are allowed to have conversations with people from their past. Then she added that if I wasn't so paranoid and controlling, I would understand that. That part didn't land the way she expected.
I told her calmly that adults are also allowed to end engagements when their partner lies to their face. She scoffed and asked what lie I was even talking about. So I reminded her. She said work dinner.