Small Things You Promised Chapter 04
The realtor looked more uneasy than I did.
He confirmed the deal with me repeatedly.
“Miss, are you sure you want to do this? The house is well-located. It’s unwise to sell it now. Besides, you just bought it recently to get married in it.”
“I’m sure.”
I took the pen, flipped to the last page of the contract, and signed my name.
Just then, a reminder popped up on the digital calendar—”Happy fifth anniversary! Places to go: Jacksonville and Pensacola, especially Escambia Bay, Florida. The inn has been booked. The plan has been made. Just waiting for you.”
I set the reminder.
It was our fifth anniversary today, and I forgot.
In the five years together, Cayson scarcely traveled with me.
He was always saying he was too busy.
Same this time.
When I suggested this trip, he had said in a baffled tone, “I don’t know if I can get some days off. A significant project is about to begin. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make time.”
It took me a long time to persuade him. I said the fifth anniversary was very important in a relationship. It was a milestone worth a ceremony. Besides, we were getting married.
I told him the hotel couldn’t be canceled, and I had spent a lot of time making arrangements.
In the end, he neither agreed nor refused explicitly.
What happened then?
He forgot. I didn’t remind him because I also forgot about it.
I looked at the note for a long while. Then, a notification from the hotel caught my attention.
It was a check-in confirmation. The guest was Cayson.
I sent a screenshot of the notification to him.
About ten minutes later, he replied, “I forgot to tell you. You didn’t mention the trip again. I assumed you’d decided not to go.
“Sadie’s job hunting has been rough, so I took her on a trip to cheer her up. The hotel room would have been a waste, anyway.”
The hotel room would have been a waste?
I composed a message, deleted it, reedited it, and sent it eventually.
“Do you have to use this room?”
He replied quickly, “Why waste it and the arrangements you made? It’s just a room. What’s the big deal?”
This again—no big deal.
This phrase prevailed throughout our five years of relationship.
Never mind.
It didn’t matter anymore.
I returned to our place with the contract, packed my things, and walked out the door.
Before leaving, I looked at the house I had lived in with Cayson for the last time.
Then, I shut the door and walked away resolutely.
When Cayson got off the plane three hours later, his phone vibrated.
I had just returned half of the down payment on the house he shared.
In the note attached to the transfer, I remarked, “I’m breaking up with you. We’re even now.”
Dumbstruck, he froze on the spot.