The workday was finally over. On my way home, I stopped by the store to pick up everything I needed for a celebration. I didn't forget a nice bottle of bourbon for Mark, either.
After the final touch—plating the appetizers—I hopped in the shower. I put on my new turquoise dress, touched up my makeup, and added a few drops of my favorite perfume.
Settling into the armchair in front of the TV, I braced myself for the wait. It felt as though time itself had stood still in anticipation.
Seven o'clock, then eight.
"It's okay, it's still early," I told myself.
Nine, then ten. The hours ticked by, and there was no sign of Mark. Not even a call or a text. By eleven, I realized there would be no miracle. He wasn't coming.
Why had I expected him today, of all days, on Valentine's Day? Because for the five years we'd been together, he had never missed it.
We met when we were both pushing thirty—two lonely hearts who hadn't found their "other half" yet. For five years, we had a "no strings attached" arrangement. Both Mark and I enjoyed a carefree life without promises. In my opinion, though, that kind of relationship had more downsides than perks. For instance, we were constantly bickering over who should handle the housework or who was picking up the tab for theater tickets. It wasn't forbidden to spend time with friends or come home long after midnight.
We fought, we didn't trust each other, and we threw jealous fits. Every major blowup ended with Mark walking out, giving a sincere vow that it was finally over. But our love was mutual, and we couldn't stand being alone for more than three days. We'd always end up back together, making up passionately in our rented one-bedroom apartment.
Our latest rift happened just before Christmas. Mark wanted to spend the holidays with his parents, but I had dreamed of a fairytale Christmas Eve with just the two of us. We had a serious fight. In the heat of the moment, I said a lot of nasty things and even called him a mama's boy. He left, tossing his keys on the table and slamming the door behind him.
Two days later, I heard the lock turn. Mark appeared in the doorway, looking somber.
"This is for you," he said, handing me a giant white teddy bear and a bag of groceries.
"My mom sent the food. Look, you were wrong, but I can't be without you."
"I can't be without you either," I whispered. "Let's not fight anymore."
"I'm all for that," he smiled.
\\\*
It didn't last. My best friend, Gwen, invited us to spend New Year's Eve at her cabin. Mark and I agreed—a compromise of sorts. That's where our next fight went down.
There was a big crowd. Everyone toasted to the coming year together, and after midnight, people drifted off to do their own thing. Some were already pretty drunk, some were dancing, and others were dozing off. Mark was among those still grazing at the buffet table; he never cared much for dancing. I, on the other hand, really wanted to hit the floor, so when Gwen's brother invited me, I didn't say no.
I think Caleb had a bit too much to drink because his grip kept getting tighter. One hand was on my waist, and the other was starting to wander. At first, Mark wasn't even looking our way, but when Caleb picked me up in his arms and I let out a yelp, Mark turned his head. He grabbed Caleb by the shirt and suggested they "take it outside." Realizing things were about to get ugly, I blocked their path.
"Knock it off! It's New Year's Eve, okay?"
"Maybe I'm the one who's extra here, not him?" Mark growled.
"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped. "You don't want to have fun, and you won't let anyone else enjoy themselves either!"
"My apologies. I won't get in your way anymore," Mark said with a sarcastic smirk. "Keep partying. I'm leaving."
"You're leaving? Without me?" I whispered, hurt.
"You're doing just fine without me!" he scoffed.
He pushed past me, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the house. I went numb. What a way to start the year.
"Hey, what happened?" Gwen asked, coming over to me. "Where is Mark going?"
"I don't know. He just dumped me here and left!"
I was struggling not to cry. "He got jealous of Caleb."
"What's wrong with him? Caleb is like a brother to you; you've known each other since you were in diapers."
"Caleb's probably just drunk. And Mark... he..." I broke down, sobbing into my friend's shoulder.
Gwen patted my back sympathetically.
"Don't get worked up, honey. Tomorrow the alcohol will wear off, tempers will cool, and everything will be fine."
"It's over," I wailed. "You know what they say about how you start the year..."
\\\*
My intuition didn't fail me. When I got home, Mark wasn't there. His things were gone, too—he'd even taken his toothbrush.
I was in a state of shock. After hesitating and swallowing my pride, I dialed his number.
"Mark, what is this, middle school? Where are you?" I yelled.
"It doesn't matter now. I've made up my mind," came the brief reply.
"What happened? Why did you take all your stuff? I don't understand!"
"Leave me alone. It's not my apartment, and you aren't my wife. I'll get the keys to you through friends."
"What do you mean, 'leave you alone'? Have you lost your mind?"
"What's not to get? Let's just say we're incompatible."
"That is total garbage!" I huffed. "Mark, I can explain! Let's meet up right now and talk like adults."
"I don't want to see you. Ever."
The line went dead, and suddenly, tears were streaming down my cheeks.
"Fine! You never loved me anyway!"
I was angry, but I kept waiting for him. He was always the one to make up first, and I hoped he'd cool off and come back soon. January passed, then February—and nothing. Mark didn't answer my calls.
"This can't be happening," I thought. "Love doesn't just vanish or dissolve into thin air!" At the same time, an inner voice kept whispering: "He just never loved you. Just forget it; he's not the only guy in the world."
But I loved him more than ever. The separation had sharpened my feelings so much that sometimes it was hard to even breathe without him. I was suffocating from it. "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." I cried at night, and my hope for a reconciliation faded more every day.
Valentine's Day was my last shred of hope. It was just past eleven at night. I got up from the couch and walked slowly to the table. "That's it," I told myself. "As hard as it is, life goes on." I opened the bottle, thinking I'd just get drunk and go to sleep. I didn't get a chance to take a sip.
First, I heard the rattle of a key, then the door opened, and there he was—my Mark. In one hand he held a bouquet of red roses, and he was hiding his other hand behind his back.
"You're not going to kick me out, are you?" Mark asked, smiling. He looked so handsome—the best and only man in the world for me.
I threw myself into his arms.
"No, of course not..." I whispered. "I've been waiting so long—day and night, every single second! I love you so much!" My eyes filled with tears.
"Then I guess you've earned a special gift." His smile was apologetic. He was clearly nervous.
He reached out, holding a small red box.
"This is an engagement ring. You know what this means? Will you marry me?"
"I know! Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes!" I cried, hugging him tight and hanging off his neck.
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