The fiancee

It’s Wednesday afternoon. I sit on my favorite couch in my childhood home at Northwood, sipping black coffee while Friends plays softly on the TV. This house holds all of my memories the good, the bad, the moments I want to forget and the ones I wish I could relive. It’s a place I can’t bring myself to leave, no matter how much time passes. It’s where I grew up. Unlike my sister well, my step-sister, Elyn who left and now lives in Sunnyvale with her husband, whom I’ve never met. My parents live out of town now in Westlake, retired, enjoying their pensions after years of working hard in government jobs. Sometimes I wonder if they miss me especially my dad. We’ve never been close, not since he brought Elyn into our lives. A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t even need to check who it is; I know exactly who’s standing on the other side. “Come in,” I say softly, barely audible, as I take another sip of coffee. Elyn walks in, her arms full of grocery bags, her steps careful as she maneuvers around the door. She places them on the kitchen table, still struggling to balance everything. I watch as she unpacks: tomatoes, chicken, pasta, vegetables—so much, none of which I asked for. She knows exactly what to get, as if she knows better than I do what I need. It’s infuriating. She doesn’t turn to face me right away, but her voice cuts through the silence. “Aren’t you going to greet me?” she asks, her tone sharp. I can tell she’s upset about something. “Hi,” I reply flatly, still sitting on the couch, not bothering to look up. I’m not in the mood for small talk. She mutters something under her breath, finishing up with the groceries. “Bad day?” she asks. She doesn’t care about my day, I know that much. It’s just her way of poking, getting information she thinks I’ll share. “No,” I reply, my voice almost a whisper, as I set my coffee cup down. I’m not interested in explaining myself. “I bought everything you asked for,” she says, still not facing me. She throws the bags into the trash and washes her hands at the sink. I don’t know why she’s being so nice. She must be trying to make up for something I don’t care about right now. “Thank you,” I say, standing up and rinsing my coffee cup, though it’s more out of habit than anything. I place the cup on the counter, wishing she would just leave already. “You want me to help you cook dinner? We can—” She doesn’t finish her sentence before I cut her off. “No,” I say firmly, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “You know what day it is, right? I’m making dinner alone, and you’re leaving after. Okay?” There’s a pause, and then she responds in that way she always does, as if nothing really fazes her. “Alright,” she says, not meeting my eyes. I can tell she’s still upset about something, but she doesn’t push. She never does. Then, as if out of nowhere, she looks up from her phone and suddenly says, “Emy, your doctor emailed me. You didn’t go to your appointment yesterday.” She watches me for a reaction, but I’m already annoyed. Why is she the one getting these emails? Why isn’t he reaching out to me directly? I roll my eyes and feel my anger rise. “Really now? And why the heck is he telling you that? Shouldn’t he be asking me about it?” I snap, my voice low but biting. She doesn’t flinch. She never does. “It’s just… you need to go to your appointments, Emy. You know that.” “No. I don’t need your help, Elyn.” I say it before I even think. “I’m doing just fine without all your consultations and your little reminders. So will you just leave and drop the whole ‘caring sister’ act? I don’t need it.” I watch her face carefully. I can see the hurt flash in her eyes, but I don’t care. I want her to leave. I can’t take her constant reminders, her nagging about everything, about how bad I’m doing. I don’t need it. She stands there for a moment, collecting herself, swallowing back the tears that are threatening to fall. Her face twists, but she doesn’t say anything. She just nods quietly, picking up her phone and her handbag. She walks toward the door, then stops and turns around one last time. “Call me if you need anything, Emy,” she says, the words quiet, almost defeated. I nod, but I don’t say anything. She leaves, closing the door softly behind her. I stand there for a moment, staring at the door, my chest tight. The silence feels oppressive, but at the same time, it’s a relief. I didn’t want her here anyway. I turn back to the kitchen, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. The room feels empty without her. But I can’t let myself dwell on that now. I have to focus. Dayle will be here soon. I always make this day memorable. Dayle visits are so rare, maybe twice or thrice or never. He loves Sundays. I love Sundays too because we always go to dine outside. That has been part of our little routine because of his work. I went back to my room, wore my favorite dress which he bought for me a while ago. Technically, my sister helped him pick. I can’t complain about that because I can’t even go out to buy my own groceries. I move to the dining table and start preparing the meal I’ve planned for tonight. His favorite food. His favorite wine. I spend extra time on the little details—the vase of red roses, the candles, even though I’m not sure why I bother with them. Elyn bought them for me, but I know it’ll make everything seem just a little more romantic. I want everything to be perfect tonight. Last week, everything went wrong, thanks to Elyn, and I won’t let that happen again. I switch off the lights and the room emits the candlelight perfectly as I wanted. I stare at the table for a good few seconds and sit on the chair waiting for him to arrive. The clock ticks closer to 8 p.m., and I start to feel the nerves settle in my stomach. He always arrives on time. 8 p.m. sharp. It’s part of our routine, one I’ve come to rely on. At exactly 8 p.m., I hear a knock at the door. I stand up quickly, heart pounding in anticipation. I open the door, and there he is Dayle. My fiancé. The man I’ve been in love with for years. “Hi,” I say with a smile, stepping aside so he can come in. As he enters, I hug him from behind, pressing my face into the back of his shirt. I love the way he smells, like lavender. It’s one of my favorite scents on him. He pulls away gently, turning to face me. We share a brief moment, just looking at each other, before he sets his work bag on the couch. I watch him as he walks over to the table and takes in the meal I’ve prepared. His eyes light up, but I don’t know if it’s because of the food or because of the effort I’ve put into this night. He opens the wine and pours it for both of us, spilling a little on the table, but I don’t mind. It’s not about perfection. “It’s okay, I forgot the napkins,” I say, getting up to grab them from the kitchen. When I return, Dayle is staring out the window. My home is facing a small garden which I put all my efforts into when I have nothing to do. I don’t really have anything to do anyway since the incident. So i can assume him watching the small lights on my garden outside, thinking about things I don’t really know. I wonder what’s on his mind. “Do you like it?” I ask, trying to break the silence. "Yeah, it’s delicious,” he says, his smile lighting up his face. “I could eat this every day and never get tired of it.” I smile back, though there’s a part of me that feels disconnected. “I know,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light. I don’t want to dive too deep into anything tonight. This is our time. I’ve worked hard to make it feel special. “So… about that vacation we talked about…” I start, my voice casual, though I know where this is going. I already know that Elyn is involved, and I can’t stand it. I don’t want her anywhere near our vacation. It’s supposed to be just the two of us. Dayle hesitates. “I talked to Elyn about it. She gave me some suggestions.” I can feel my chest tighten. “No,” I say, a little more forcefully than I mean to. “I don’t want Elyn to come with us. It’s supposed to be a trip for us, Dayle, not a family outing. I want to spend time with you.” He pauses, looking at me with that serious expression I’ve come to recognize. “Alright,” he says after a moment. “We’ll figure it out. Just the two of us okay?" he says this time more calm and assuring. I let out a quiet breath, relieved. “Thank you,” I say, though it’s not just about the vacation anymore. It’s about feeling like I matter to him, like I’m not just a part of his routine. “Can we watch friend?“ He says pointing at the TV. Looking at me, his eyes pleading as if I would deny him, he knows I won't. And I know he is avoiding more arguments about the vacation thing. “Yeah sure” I reply watching him standing up and going to kitchen, placing his plate on the sink. He goes and sits on the couch. Switched on the TV and turned at me “are you coming?” he said patting the space beside him on the couch. “I.. I am coming” I say my voice coming out as a whisper. I stood up and went to sit next to him on the couch, putting my head on his shoulder watching Friends, his favourite sitcom of course. I have watched it a hundred times already. So I just sit staring at his neck, wanting to kiss it badly. His Adams apple going up and down. Is he nervous? . I sit next to him silently occupying our space because all I wanted to do is hold him before he leaves. I wish one day for him to stay, but of course he would refuse. I tried to hold my eyes not to close due to the wine I had just drunk. My eyes started to betray me and I fell asleep right there, next to him, beside him, smelling him. I feel myself move, and i know that he is carrying me to my bed. He always carries me. I cant dare open my eyes to let him know im awake. I love when he carries me to bed. He placed me slowly on my bed. I feel him staring down on me for some minutes. He covers me with the duvet, then leaves the room. Though I don't want him to leave.