Year after year, I wasted my life, believing his lies.
The more I lied, the guiltier I felt. I collapsed to the ground, tears streaming uncontrollably.
By the end, I could not tell if I was more regretful, apologetic, or unwilling to accept it all.
My mother helped me up and told me to clean myself up. I was meeting the man I was supposed to marry.
Wiping my tears, I listlessly washed my face and left the house.
The man I was to marry was named Ryan Young. My mother said he was from a military background. He was an honest, straightforward man. He was 29 years old and had been busy with military duties for years.
His family had pressured him to settle down, and when they heard I was ‘doing a doctorate‘, it all aligned perfectly, and the marriage was set.
At this age, after seeing through Ethan, I did not expect anything anymore. Whoever I married, the ending would probably be the same.
I walked to the meeting spot without a shred of hope. From a distance, however, I saw Ryan’s side profile. My heart skipped a beat for a moment.
He looked about 70% to 80% like Ethan.
Ryan recognized me first and scratched the back of his head shyly.
1/2
Chapter 4
+25 BONUS
Up close, his features were more defined than Ethan’s. His kin was darker and his build was taller.
He approached with polite distance and quickly began the planned ‘date‘. Wherever there was good food or something fun along the way, Ryan stopped and bought it for me, spending money without hesitation and sharing our family details openly.
When he asked if anything interesting had happened during my master’s or doctoral studies, I hesitated.
My mother had said that the marriage details were confirmed, and Ryan would soon become my husband.
Whether or not I knew him well, I did not want to keep weaving endless lies. A lie would always demand another to cover it up. How could I keep lying to someone I would share my life with?
We stopped by the lake. I stood there, holding a melting ice cream and staring at the golden bracelet he had awkwardly slid onto my wrist earlier.
I thought to myself that someone like Ryan deserved a better woman. Someone kinder, someone honest. Not me, someone who had wasted her youth and lived in lies.
Summoning my courage, I said, “Ryan, I need to tell you something.”
I laid it all out: my relationship with Ethan, my job, my fabricated academic history. Everything.
Nervously, I waited for his reaction. Maybe he would snatch back everything he bought for me in anger. Maybe he would call me names like most people in the countryside would, saying I was shameless. Maybe he would call my mother and demand the engagement be called off.
Ryan only froze for a moment.
He looked at me with a faint trace of pain in his eyes. His voice softened as he asked, “Claire Thompson, can I touch you?”
I stared at him, confused by what he meant. I thought back to the entire date. We had not even held hands. He knew my story, so perhaps he was furious and wanted to hit me for wasting his time.
A slap. Was that all it took?
I nodded, clenching my fists and bracing myself.
AV
To my surprise, Ryan slowly raised his hand and gently brushed the calloused pad of his thumb across the corner of my eye.
“Don’t cry anymore,” he said. “For that Ethan West you told me about. It’s not worth it. That tear has been sitting there for a while. It hurts me just to see it.”
