Chapter 3
1018 Words
Three full cardboard boxes sat piled up, stuffed with every memory Phoebe had shared with Oscar.
Inside them were small but meaningful things: a broken thermometer Oscar had used to tend to her fever all night; a discontinued CD she'd spent ages searching for, which he'd bought at a huge cost overseas; and a cast he'd worn on his fractured arm—an injury he'd gotten while fighting off thugs who'd harassed her.
Every single item seemed like proof of Oscar's love for her. But now, she knew it had all been nothing but a lie.
The next evening, Oscar came home.
He handed Phoebe a small cream cake he'd picked up on the way back, noticing a few boxes stacked in the corner—but he did not bother checking what was inside.
He walked straight toward Phoebe.
Phoebe said, "It's nothing. Just clearing out some old things I don't care about anymore."
They had an unspoken routine. Whenever they had a fight, Oscar would buy her a small cake to make up.
And in the past, the second she saw the cake, she'd forgive him right away.
This time, though, Phoebe didn't even reach for it.
"Babe, I know I have stronger desires than most guys, and I've probably been wearing you out. If you think we're doing it too many times, I'll hold back from now on. Just stop being mad at me, okay?"
He set the cake aside, then reached out and took her hands in his.
His tone was soft and patient as he tried to soothe her.
He assumed she'd rejected him the night before simply because he'd been too demanding.
He had no idea she knew every single truth now.
Phoebe stared at his pleading face, then thought of the photograph hidden in that nightstand. A heavy, suffocating weight settled in her chest, making it hard and tight to breathe.
She was just about to break up with him.
At that moment, their housekeeper, Faye Vick, walked over to Phoebe with a wedding invitation in hand, her face bright with excitement. "Ms. Thurman, I found this next to your suitcase while I was cleaning the guest room! Are you and Mr. Gilliam finally getting married? Congratulations! You two have been together for so long, and it's wonderful to see you finally tie the knot. You've come so far through everything. I hope you have a beautiful, happy marriage!"
Oscar's eyes widened in surprise at the invitation in Faye's hand. He stepped forward and snatched it away. The gentle, pleading look on his face vanished the second he saw the cartoon bride and groom printed on the cover.
His brows furrowed sharply with irritation.
Without even glancing at the details, he tore the invitation into pieces and tossed them into the trash can at his feet. "I thought I had made it clear. I'm fine with how things are right now. I don't want to get married so early. Why would you secretly plan a wedding behind my back? Phoebe, I'll be honest with you. Even if you finish all the wedding preparations, I won't show up. Don't embarrass yourself."
Phoebe stared down at the torn fragments in the trash. She could see the groom's name printed on the broken pieces—if Oscar had just taken a moment to look closely, he would have realized the groom was not him.
But he never bothered to check.
He completely missed the name on the fragments.
Phoebe turned away, grabbed some tape to seal the last open box, and ignored Oscar entirely. She told Faye to haul all three boxes to the junkyard the next day.
Once she finished, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Staring at the handsome face she'd adored obsessively for three years, she felt a sharp, stinging pain in her throat, struggling to get the breakup words out.
Before she could speak, Oscar's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, saw it was Nanette calling, and answered immediately.
Faint sniffles and crying came through the line. Oscar's expression turned panicked in an instant. "How did you fall off the stage out of nowhere? Don't panic. I'm on my way right now!"
Oscar rushed to leave. As he turned, he noticed how pale and upset Phoebe looked. He hesitated for a second, then walked back over and pulled her gently into his arms. "I know I was too harsh earlier and lost my temper. Give me a little more time, babe. Maybe once you propose to me the tenth time, I'll finally figure things out."
He pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to her forehead, then turned and left without a second thought.
This was how it had always been for the past three years.
As long as Nanette wasn't involved, Oscar was a perfect, caring boyfriend.
But the second Nanette called, he would always choose her over Phoebe, without hesitation.
He'd told Phoebe before that Nanette had been his old college football team captain, Martin Jester's girlfriend. When Martin died suddenly in a car crash, he promised to look out for Nanette in his friend's place.
Phoebe had always believed every word of that story.
She'd sensed Nanette's hostility toward her all along, yet she had never said a word.
Knowing Oscar valued loyalty and kindness, she'd always tolerated Nanette's attitude to not put Oscar on the spot.
For three years, she'd endured Nanette's petty troubles and Oscar's obvious favoritism without any suspicion.
Looking back now, Phoebe realized every detail was clear.
Every time Oscar met up with Nanette, undisguised joy lit up his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
Whenever Nanette got hurt, he grew more anxious than anyone else around.
He hated candy of any kind, yet he always kept Nanette's favorite lime-flavored throat lozenges in his pocket.
His care and attention for Nanette had long crossed the line of a friend's duty.
Phoebe had simply been too blind to see it all along.
'Propose a tenth time, and you'll figure things out? Oscar, I'm never going to propose to you ever again.'
- Writer
