Chapter Nine
885 Words
Maria
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Alejandro had said.
You deserve to be remembered without someone needing to set a reminder.
No one had ever defended me so gently.
No one had ever made me question what I’d accepted as normal.
I hated that.
Because it was easier to be content than to wonder if I’d settled.
By Wednesday evening, I was determined to prove to myself that everything was fine.
Daniel had promised we’d finally celebrate our engagement anniversary.
This time, he was going to make it right.
At six forty-five, I was already dressed.
A black satin dress.
Red lipstick.
Soft curls.
The same effort I’d once put into every date we had.
I checked my phone.
No message.
At exactly seven, the doorbell rang.
Relief washed over me.
I opened the door with a smile.
It disappeared almost instantly.
A delivery driver stood there holding a large bouquet of white roses.
“Maria Bellington?”
“Yes.”
He handed me the flowers and a small envelope.
“Have a lovely evening.”
Before I could ask anything else, he was gone.
I opened the card.
I’m so sorry. An urgent client dinner came up.
Please don’t wait for me.
We’ll celebrate this weekend.
Love, Daniel.
I stared at the words until they blurred.
Again.
My phone rang almost immediately.
Daniel.
“I’m so sorry, Mari.”
I closed the door quietly.
“The flowers are beautiful.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
There it was.
Not…
“Will you forgive me?”
Not…
“I’m leaving now.”
Just confidence that I’d understand.
“I booked us somewhere really nice for Saturday.”
“You said that last weekend.”
“I know.”
“And the weekend before.”
He sighed.
“I can’t let this client down.”
“What about me?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Silence.
Then…
“Don’t do this tonight.”
A lump formed in my throat.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“I’ll call you later.”
The line went dead.
Not because the call dropped.
Because he’d ended it.
I slowly placed the phone on the kitchen counter.
For several seconds, the apartment was completely silent.
Then my eyes landed on the bouquet.
Perfect white roses.
Chosen by someone who hadn’t chosen to show up.
A knock at the door startled me.
The delivery driver?
I opened it without thinking.
Instead…
I found Sophie standing there holding a paper bag.
“I brought chocolate.”
She took one look at my face.
“Oh, Maria.”
I laughed weakly.
“Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve got your ‘I’m pretending I’m okay’ smile.”
She stepped inside without waiting to be invited.
“What happened?”
I pointed at the flowers.
“He cancelled.”
She sighed.
“Again.”
“I’m starting to sound pathetic.”
“No.”
She took my hands.
“You sound heartbroken.”
That hurt because it was true.
“I keep telling myself it’ll get better.”
“And has it?”
I looked around the apartment.
At the untouched dining table.
The candles I’d lit.
The dress I’d spent an hour choosing.
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“It hasn’t.”
Sophie wrapped her arms around me before I could stop the tears.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
“Because you’re grieving.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“The relationship you thought you had.”
…
An hour later, Sophie had managed to make me laugh over takeaway pizza and terrible reality television.
By the time she left, I felt lighter.
Not happy.
Just… less alone.
As I cleared the coffee table, my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
For a moment, I considered ignoring it.
Instead, I answered.
“Hello?”
A familiar voice spoke.
“Buenas noches, María.”
My heart skipped.
Alejandro.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No…”
I glanced at the wilted candles on the dining table.
“Not at all.”
“I apologise for calling your personal number.”
“How did you get it?”
“Sophie.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Of course.”
“I needed your approval on one of the Barcelona venues before tomorrow morning.”
Business.
Of course.
We spoke for several minutes about layouts, guest capacity and logistics.
It was easy.
Comfortable.
Then…
“I’ve taken enough of your evening,” he said.
“You haven’t.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
A silence followed.
Not awkward.
Just… full.
Finally, he spoke.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Neither of us hung up.
I smiled to myself.
“I think one of us is supposed to end the call.”
He chuckled softly.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t have to be me.”
My smile grew.
“Goodnight, Alejandro.”
“Buenas noches, María.”
This time…
He hung up first.
I looked at my dark phone screen and caught myself smiling.
Then guilt hit me almost immediately.
Because for the first time in eleven years…
A man who wasn’t my fiancé had made the end of my day feel brighter.
- Writer
