Someone Else Will Take My Boat Now

The docks were as lively as ever on the day of the Flowerboat Festival. Firecrackers crackled and popped along the waterfront.

One after another, couples who had already agreed on secret signals chose their partners' boats and sailed away in high spirits.

When it was my boyfriend Julian Lowe's turn, only about a dozen boats were left at the dock, each with a woman still waiting inside.

The crowd began to cheer him on. "Julian, make sure you pick the right boat this time! Susan has been waiting for seven years, and she puts so much care into the boat each year. Surely fate will finally bring you two together!"

Fate?

If I hadn't overheard what Julian said the night before, I might have believed it.

I stood inside the cabin, clutching my wedding fan. Its weight pressed against the tiny cuts on my hand, making them sting.

In our town, a finely crafted Flowerboat Festival boat was seen as a sign of how sincerely a woman sought her destined marriage.

So every year, I built a new boat, making each one more intricate than the last.

My hands had long been covered in scratches from wood splinters. Some had faded into thin white scars, while others remained. For seven years, new wounds kept piling over old ones, and my hands had never fully healed.

On the dock, Julian walked past one boat after another.

Through the window screen, I could have sworn our eyes met.

But this year, I didn't call out to him like I used to.

Instead, I watched as he walked past my boat without any hesitation. He went straight to a black-canopied boat, bigger and even more beautiful than last year's. "I pick this one," Julian said.

The last spark of hope in me went out.

My stepsister, Mia Clark, came running out of the black-canopied boat next to mine, lifting the hem of her white dress.

"Julian!" She threw herself into his arms, her voice filled with delight and triumph. "We really are meant to be!"

They were even wearing matching wedding outfits, custom-made in advance.

I looked down at my worn-out wedding gown and couldn't help but mock myself.

I'd spent countless sleepless nights sewing a matching wedding outfit for Julian, only for him to return it without so much as a glance. He told me to keep it and said he'd wear it once he boarded my boat.

I kept it for seven years.

Then I heard Julian call out to the remaining boats. "I'm sorry, Susan. I somehow picked your sister again. Don't worry, this will be the last time I spend the day with her. Tomorrow, I'll go register our marriage with you."

Unlike previous years, I didn't rush out to accuse him of secretly arranging all this with Mia.

The canal town wasn't as strict as it once was. People had long since turned a blind eye to couples making private arrangements before choosing their boats.

It was Julian who had convinced me otherwise. He'd said he wanted our relationship to be blessed by fate.

And so, year after year, I believed he would choose me.

Yet this time, I just opened the window and calmly met his gaze. "Don't bother. I've already agreed to let someone else onto my boat. Let's break up, Julian. From now on, you can spend all your time with her."