The Man Who Stopped Waiting

For a split second, panic flashed in Elise's eyes. Then her expression smoothed over.

She gave me a warning look and the smallest shake of her head.

I stood frozen, my hands and feet numb, as though someone had a fist around my throat.

The young man bent to pick up the microphone I'd dropped. He handed it back with a mischievous grin. "What's wrong, man? Did my wife's looks leave you speechless?"

Elise laughed and gave his chest a playful tap.

"Don't tease him. Come on. Weren't you craving oysters?"

His face lit up. He leaned down and kissed her.

"Thanks, honey. You're the best wife ever."

Wife.

That single word cut deeper than anything I'd ever heard.

Fifteen years. Elise and I had been together for fifteen years, and I'd never earned the right to call her my wife.

I must have looked terrible, because the young man tilted his head at me, all mock complaint and delighted eyes.

"She's usually so worried I'll get food poisoning that she won't let me near raw oysters. But it's our wedding day, so she's finally letting me have my way. Tell him, honey. I'm the boss today, right?"

Elise didn't spare me another glance. She gazed at him with a tenderness I'd been begging to see for years.

"Of course you are, boss. Let's go."

She took his hand and walked right past me without breaking stride. She might as well have been passing a stranger.

A hundred questions caught in my throat, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Behind me, the cameraman signaled that we were still live.

I forced back my tears, stumbled through the end of the broadcast, and hurried after them.

The young man looked startled when I stepped into their path. I didn't look at him. I looked straight at Elise.

"Elise," I said, each word painfully clear, "we're done."

...

I curled into the corner of a cab on the ride home, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed until I could barely breathe.

Elise and I had been together fifteen years.

When we had nothing, we'd lived in a basement apartment with a ceiling that leaked every time it rained. We'd split a single cup of instant noodles. If there was one egg, she put it in my bowl and drank water to quiet her own hunger.

In winter, when the cold got unbearable, she'd tuck my hands beneath her coat to warm them against her body. She'd shiver for hours without a word of complaint.

I'd never minded being poor. Not with her beside me.

She'd promised that we would build something together. Once we'd both made it, she'd put on the most beautiful wedding dress in the world and marry me in front of everyone.

I'd spent ten years working toward that future and another five waiting for her to make good on her promise.

Now I was an established television host. She was worth a fortune.

And she had married another man.