Chapter 2 A Love Past Its Expiration Date

Timothy came through the door clutching a wilted rose.

"I turned down Camilla's invitation to grab a late-night bite so I could come home and make it up to you for Valentine's Day."

He shoved a convenience store paper bag into my arms.

Inside was a box of chocolates that cost $9.90. A clearance sticker covered one corner, and the expiration date was three days ago.

I turned the box over. "These are expired."

"They're not expired. They're just past their best-by date. You have a strong gut. A little won't hurt you."

He reached up and adjusted the blanket around my shoulders.

"I went down two streets before I found your favorite flavor, hazelnut. Vera, it's the thought that counts, not the price. Stop fixating on the little things."

Five years ago, when I'd suffered acute appendicitis, he'd carried me on his back through the hospital's three-story ER and stayed with me until dawn.

Back then, clutching the hospital payment slip, he'd told me that every little thing that concerned me mattered more to him than his own affairs.

I looked at the expired chocolates and said nothing more. At least he still remembered that I liked hazelnut.

When Timothy saw that I remained silent, he opened his phone and showed me the wedding planning group chat.

"I've put the wedding plans back on. Let's just pretend tonight never happened."

"I never agreed to go ahead with the wedding."

"Vera, your mom is still in the hospital."

His tone was gentle, but every word left me with fewer options. "Your mom's greatest wish is to see us get married. She's still lying in that hospital bed. Do you really want to provoke her at a time like this?"

My breath caught.

My mom's condition had been unstable, and the doctor had warned us that she couldn't be subjected to any stress.

"You're using my mom to force me into this?"

"I'm telling you to think about the bigger picture. You'll get over your anger, but your mom's health can't afford to pay for your stubbornness."

I lowered my head, closed my eyes, and forced down the bloody taste in my throat. "Fine. I understand."

Only then did Timothy's lips curl into a satisfied smile. "See? When you calm down, we can work things out."

The doorbell rang just then.

Camilla wheeled her suitcase inside. "Timothy, my lease is up, so I have no choice but to come stay with you!"

She leaned around to look at me. "You don't mind if I crash here for a day, do you, Vera? After all, Timothy and I practically grew up together. If you get jealous over this, you're hopeless."

She doubled over with laughter.

Timothy took her suitcase. "Enough. Stop teasing her. She's been emotionally unstable lately."

An hour later, the water in the bathroom stopped running.

Camilla emerged wearing Timothy's white shirt. The hem barely covered her upper thighs, the front hung loose against her chest, and her wet hair clung to the collar.

She lunged at him to snatch his phone, practically hanging off his back.

"You still have that awful picture of me from when I was 16? Delete it!"

Timothy held the phone high and laughed as he dodged her.

"You got drunk and crawled into my bed back then. You threw up all over me, and I never even held it against you."

"Then let's share a bed tonight. I'll make it up to you with a new shirt."

She finished speaking and winked at me. "Vera, you're not seriously jealous of me, are you? Relax. I've never seen him that way."

Timothy looked up at me. "Vera, go gather your things. You're sleeping in the guest room tonight."

My expression darkened. "You want me to give up my room for her?"

"Camilla has trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places. She'll be up all night if she has to sleep in the guest room."

"I'm not moving."

Timothy's expression turned cold. Right in front of me, he opened the bill on his phone.

"Raising your voice at me will cost you $100. Ignoring my arrangements and being emotionally unstable results in a $500 deduction."

A notification chimed.

"Vera, I'm deducting money to teach you a lesson."

In the end, I carried my pillow and blanket into the guest room and locked the door.

That night, bursts of laughter drifted from the master bedroom.

I lay awake until dawn and never went back out.

The next morning, I opened the door, intending to retrieve my work laptop. It contained critical data I needed for a meeting that day.

To my shock, the coffee table was bare. My laptop was gone.

When I heard water running in the bathroom, my heart sank. I hurried over and found that my laptop was submerged in water.