Disappointment 66 Times Over

Today was the 66th time my boyfriend, Arnold Porter, and I would hold my marking ceremony. We didn't invite many of our friends this time; our family and close friends were the only guests present.

I forced myself to ignore the twinge in my stomach that had been there since early this morning while I confirmed the details of the ceremony with the officiant. Arnold, on the other hand, was utterly disinterested.

He was sitting in the lounge at the side of the hall, busy massaging his adoptive sister Erna Porter's hands.

When they saw that, my parents turned to me with sadness in their eyes.

"Look," they said. "His so-called sister is the only woman he has eyes for. There is no space in his mind for you."

Everyone knew that I cared a lot about the marking ceremony, for I wished to be his mate for real.

We'd been together for six years, yet I was merely a candidate to be his mate. I wanted to make it official.

However, when it was time for the marking ceremony to begin, Arnold—who should already have gotten on stage—decided to cancel it again at the last minute.

I hurried over to take his hand in mine, but he flung me away.

"The poison in Erna's hands has spread," he said. "She's in dire condition, and I must have a witch look over her.

"Today's not the right time for the ceremony, so let's cancel this time. I won't leave at the last minute next time," he promised.

Without hesitation, he turned away and helped Erna into a car.

We'd been together for six years, and this was the 66th time he'd canceled our marking ceremony.

The past me would have thrown a fit, crying until I lost my voice. I would've asked him why he insisted on walking away right before the ceremony began.

This time, I looked at him calmly and said with a smile, "Go. Don't worry about it. She does need immediate medical attention. It'd be terrible if she lost function in her hands."

Arnold was stunned, as though he hadn't expected me to agree so readily. "I'm glad that you're okay with it," he said. "I'll bring you some of your favorite cake—the one with chocolate and nuts—tonight."

I inclined my head, watching as he started his car and drove away. The smile on my face was gone immediately after.

He had forgotten again. I was allergic to nuts and had never had chocolate nut cake before.

He'd bought that for me the first time he celebrated my birthday this year. I couldn't bear to dampen his mood, so I forced myself to take a bite. That night, rashes grew everywhere on my body.

When I told him the truth, he was consumed by guilt. He held my hand, promising, "I'll remember that forever, and I'll never make such a mistake again."

He'd forgotten again a mere six months later.

The scorching sunlight at noon burned my shoulders and back. In stark comparison, I felt as though my heart had been submerged in ice water, gradually cooling down until no warmth was left.

I let out a derisive chuckle before returning to the stage. After turning to our friends and family waiting there, I announced calmly, "The marking ceremony is canceled."

Later, I slowly tore the silver feathered wedding gown I'd worn 66 times into shreds, ripping up the remnants of dignity holding this relationship together.

I'd loved Arnold for six years, and it was high time this was put to an end.