The 500th Journey

When I got on the train, I immediately felt people sneaking glances in my direction. I couldn't fault them for it. After all, it wasn't every day one would find a bride wearing a wedding dress on a train.

"Sweetheart, are you going to see your boyfriend? You've even put on such a pretty wedding dress," the older woman sitting beside me asked, smiling kindly.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing. "Yeah. I'm going to propose to him."

As I spoke, I gently rubbed the little metal box in my palm. There were 499 train tickets resting inside, all neatly arranged in a stack.

Marcus Jeffries and I had started dating in high school. At our graduation, he had gotten down on one knee on the field and proposed to me, slipping a ring made from a soda can tab onto my ring finger.

Since our universities were on opposite ends of the country, he had been afraid that the long distance would eventually tear us apart.

I hadn't given him an answer back then. Instead, we made a promise: we would register our marriage once we had collected 500 train tickets.

And so, we'd lived frugally and saved wherever we could for the past four years, turning almost all our living expenses into train tickets so we could fulfill our promise as soon as possible. Eventually, we finally managed to collect 499.

And this trip would be the 500th.

I wanted to surprise Marcus. He had proposed to me four years ago. So, I wanted to turn the tables on him four years later and tell him, "Yes. Let's get married."

The older woman gave me a thumbs-up. "There aren't many girls as brave as you these days. Your boyfriend is going to be over the moon."

Over the moon?

I lowered my eyes. A faint thread of uncertainty had begun to stir beneath my happy facade.

The truth was, Marcus had been growing distant toward me over the past six months.

During our first year together, he had been so eager to take me home as his wife that he'd come to see me once every three days.

He always took the slow, old-fashioned trains, spending more than ten hours on each journey. By the time he reached the entrance of my university, his legs would often be so swollen that he could barely walk.

But now, he could take several hours just to reply to one of my WhatsApp messages. And it was always the same reason—"Internship is too busy, Evie. You need to be a little more understanding."

I believed Marcus. I believed he really was exhausted. I believed that once we got through this period, once we'd graduated and settled down, once we'd gotten married, everything would be all right.

That lasted until the day I lifted the hem of my wedding dress and hurried to his dormitory building, only to see the hands that had once kept me warm through the winter now gently cradling another girl's face.

I knew that girl.

Marcus had mentioned her to me countless times.

She was the junior he'd always described as "clumsy and needing someone to teach her everything"—Jane Stanley.

A wave of excited cheers erupted from the crowd. "C'mon, Jeffries! One more kiss for the crowd!"

Jane's face flushed crimson, and she buried it against Marcus' chest. Marcus laughed and shielded her protectively, feigning a kick at the guy who had shouted. "Cut it out. Jane's shy."

His voice was still as tender and indulgent as ever.

However, that tenderness was no longer meant for me.

I stood beneath a streetlamp just a few steps away, dressed in a pure white wedding gown, looking like a ridiculous clown.

Someone eventually noticed me and nudged the person beside them. The noise of the crowd died down little by little, alerting Marcus. So, he turned in the direction they were looking.

When he saw me, the smile on his face froze. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, and he instinctively released Jane from his arms. "E-Evie? What are you doing here?"

Marcus hurried toward me. When he saw what I was wearing, his brows drew together slightly. He seemed confused by my appearance, even a little embarrassed.

"Why did you come here dressed like this? You should've told me beforehand."

I didn't say a word.

I simply lifted my chin and stared at Marcus, my eyes fixed on the faint trace of lipstick still staining the corner of his lips.