The Five-Year Dream

The lawyer was speaking on the livestream.

“You are saying the man fabricated an appointment page?”

Monique Baum lowered her voice. “He didn’t make it himself. A friend of his set it up for him. She doesn’t know enough about this stuff to tell the difference.”

I stared at the submissions panel on the moderator dashboard.

Monique had attached three screenshots to her submission.

The first showed the fake appointment page.

The second was a message from Sean Loker to Monique Baum.

[I’ll take her near the county clerk’s office tomorrow.]

[Don’t come.]

[She’s been emotionally fragile since we lost the baby. She can’t handle another shock.]

The third screenshot showed Monique’s reply.

[Sean, you’re too kind to her.]

‘Kind…’ The word seared itself into my eyes.

The lawyer’s voice turned grave.

“Creating a fake government webpage could have serious legal consequences.”

Monique said, “If she calls off the wedding herself, would that protect him from legal liability?”

“Don’t manipulate her into doing that,” the lawyer said coldly.

Monique fell silent for a few seconds.

“But Sean doesn’t love her anymore! There’s no point forcing him to marry her just because she wants it.”

“Did she have him sign a loan agreement when she sold the house to pay off his debts?” the lawyer asked.

Monique’s laugh grew even softer.

“No. She was stupid enough to think that asking him to pay her back would ruin their relationship.”

The back of my hand struck the corner of the desk, but I felt no pain.

For five years, I had lived with Sean in that leaky apartment on the west side of Everbrook.

In the middle of the night, I would set out buckets to catch the dripping water while he sat at his computer and told me his creditors were hounding him again.

I handed him my card.

He said, “Zoe, when I get back on my feet, I’ll give you a home of our own.”

When I was six weeks pregnant, the pain became so severe that I could not even stand on my feet. Sean said the emergency room would cost too much and told me to wait.

I lost the baby.

He knelt beside my hospital bed and held my hand. “It’s my fault,” he said.

That same night, Monique posted a photo of a birthday cake on Instagram.

Her caption said: Someone came all the way across town just to celebrate my birthday!

I had liked that post.

The comments were coming in faster than anyone could read them.

[This guy’s disgusting!]

[His fiancee deserves so much better!]

[She lost their baby, and he’s cheating on her?]

Monique suddenly said, “You can’t really blame him. He never loved her to begin with. She just kept putting up with everything until Sean felt too guilty to leave her.”

The screenshot Monique had submitted was on the screen.

Sean’s profile picture was a photo I had taken.

That day, he had stood outside our apartment building in a shirt faded from countless washes.

I had crouched in front of him to wipe the mud from his shoes.

He said, “Zoe, you’re so good to me. How will I ever repay you?”

My coworker Will Feldman poked his head into my office.

“Zoe, you’re still here? Aren’t you getting married tomorrow?”

“I just need to finish this.”

“You work way too hard. Your fiance must hate seeing you push yourself like this.”

I smiled.

A message from Sean came through.

[I’m in front of your office. Come on, babe. We’re getting married tomorrow. Don’t work yourself too hard.]

Before ending the call, the lawyer asked Monique one last question.

“Do you know his fiancee?”

Monique chuckled. “Yes. She’s my best friend.”

I clicked the button to save the screen recording.

Just then, Sean called. His voice was warm.

“Zoe, are you done with work? I’m in front of your office.”

A brand-new black SUV was parked outside. Its license plate ended in 0927. It was Monique’s birthday.

Five years ago, Sean had told me he was bankrupt and had sold his car.

He stood beside the SUV with a bouquet of white roses.

He had once told me white roses were inexpensive and always a safe choice.

He reached out to hug me. “We’re getting married tomorrow, so I borrowed a coworker’s new car to pick up my future wife. Come hug me!”

His coat smelled of the perfume Monique always wore.

I found a long, curly strand of blond hair from inside his collar. It was not mine.

Sean looked at me. “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?”

I met his eyes. “The county clerk’s website has no record of our appointment.”

He immediately pulled out his phone.

“The system must be lagging. That stupid county website glitches all the time.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Sean breathed a sigh of relief and opened the car door.

I slid into the passenger seat and noticed an earring by my feet.

It was a pearl set in silver.

Monique had bought the exact same pair last year on her birthday when I went shopping with her.

I leaned down and picked it up. Sean reached over to take it.

“It must belong to my coworker’s girlfriend.”

I placed the earring in his palm.

“Your coworker’s girlfriend has good taste.”