She looked at me. You don't want it? No. She placed it on the table. What about Malcolm?
I asked the question calmly. She looked away. We're going to see what happens. You're leaving your fiance for a man you met in Jamaica. Yes.
You barely know him. I know. And you're still doing this. Yes. I nodded.
Then there's nothing else to discuss. She wiped her eyes. You make this sound so easy. It isn't easy. Then why are you so calm?
Because the decision isn't mine anymore. She looked at me for several seconds. I thought you would fight for us. I finally looked directly at her. I shouldn't have to fight another man for my own fiance.
She said nothing. That was the first time she seemed to understand what she had actually done. She picked up her suitcase. I'll come back for the rest tomorrow. No need.
What? I packed the remaining things you left in the spare room. I'll put them by the door. You already did that? Yes.
She stared at me. You really are done. You canceled our wedding, Ashley. You chose someone else. She nodded slowly.
I know. Then yes. I'm done. She took her suitcase outside. I followed her to the parking lot, but stopped several feet away.
She opened the trunk. Before getting inside, she turned around. Do you hate me? No. Her eyes filled with tears.
Why not? Because hate would keep me connected to you. She looked at me for a moment. Then she got into the car. I watched her drive away.
That evening, I finished canceling the wedding. Some vendors refunded part of the deposits, Others didn't. I didn't care about recovering every dollar. I cared about closing every open door. The next morning, I removed the wedding countdown from the refrigerator.
Then, I took the calendar off the wall and threw it away. There was no wedding anymore. There was no engagement, and there was no reason for me to sit around waiting to see what Ashley and Malcolm became. My friend Ryan Whitaker came over that weekend. He looked around the apartment.
"So, she's really gone? " "Yeah. " He nodded. "You okay? " "I will be. " He didn't give me some speech about how I deserved better. He just helped me move her last boxes into the storage room. That was exactly what I needed. For the first time in years, I had an empty calendar.
No wedding to plan, no relationship to repair, no woman to convince to stay. Ashley had chosen her direction. I decided to choose mine. The first few weeks after Ashley left were strange. Not because I missed having her around every minute.
I missed the routine, the little things. Her coffee cup beside the sink, her jacket hanging behind the door, the sound of her moving around the bedroom while I was getting ready for work. But, the worst part was waking up and remembering that the wedding was supposed to be happening. Six weeks after Ashley left, I was supposed to be standing beside her in front of our families. Instead, I was sitting alone in my apartment on a Saturday morning.