When Nine Years End

“Shawny” versus “Sean”.

Wasn’t it obvious?

I slowly let go of the balloon in my hand.

“Alright. I won’t make an issue of it.”

I would never make an issue of it again.

The balloon drifted upward, standing out in the silent private room before slowly losing air and falling limply to the floor.

Amid the awkward silence, someone spoke softly.

“So… should we still hang the banner?”

My expression remained unchanged.

“Go ahead. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make it.”

No sooner had I finished speaking, Shawn’s eyes welled up with tears

“Sean, I really didn’t mean to.

“I was working late until eleven last night when I ordered the banner. I must’ve sent the wrong name by accident because it was already that late.

“I’m really sorry!”

Before I could respond, Anne was already frowning.

“Sean, it’s only a typo. Don’t make things difficult for him.

“Just pretend it’s your name. Stop making a fuss.”

I looked at her.

I truly didn’t understand how I’d made things difficult for him.

The displeasure in Anne’s eyes grew more obvious and she was about to reprimand me.

Someone couldn’t bear the tension and stepped in to smooth things over.

“Come on, Sean. Let’s have a drink!”

“That’s right, tomorrow is your last day of being single!”

After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere became lively again.

I sat in my chair.

Anne was peeling shrimps with practiced speed. Because I loved them, she’d been peeling them for me for nine years.

Before long, the plate was piled high with peeled shrimp.

I was about to tell her I wasn’t hungry when she pushed the plate to her right, placing it in front of Shawn.

Her words, though, were directed at me.

“He hurt his hand yesterday. It’s inconvenient for him. Don’t read too much into it.”

I looked at the small cut on Shawn’s hand that had already scabbed over.

My heart felt as if fine sand had been ground across it, numb and aching.

‘Sean, I’ll peel shrimps for no one but you for the rest of my life.’

Her declaration from years ago echoed in my mind.

How could someone’s heart change so quickly?

The plate of peeled shrimp was painfully glaring. My eyes stung.

I got up and went to the restroom.

When I returned, I heard one of our business partners chuckling mischievously behind the private room door.

“Anne, you’re about to get married. Why are you still treating our Shawny so well?”

“Exactly. You’re not trying to have your cake and eat it too, right?”

Anne didn’t deny it. Shawn, however, spoke up.

“No, no. Please don’t say that!”

His tone didn’t sound like denial, coming more from a place of shyness.

A chorus of knowing laughter ensued.

I pushed the door open, and everyone hurriedly changed the subject.

Anne’s smile from earlier hadn’t yet faded as she slid a plate toward me.

“Didn’t you say you were craving shrimps a couple of days ago? Here you go.”

I looked down and saw it was Shawn’s leftovers.

So she remembered I’d wanted shrimp, but now, to her, I was only worthy of nothing more than someone else’s leftovers.

My plate and utensils remained untouched until the group photo to wrap up the party.

Anne didn’t notice though.

When the party ended, heavy rain was pouring outside.

I waited for her at the entrance.

The car door opened and Anne walked over with an umbrella.

She walked right past me and instead shielded Shawn behind me beneath the umbrella, escorting him into the car.

Only after they were settled did she call me.

“What are you standing there for? It’s pouring. Get in!”

I injured my shoulder last week and I wasn’t supposed to get caught in the rain.

She had forgotten that.

This downpour also completely extinguished the last flicker of flame in my heart.

With a self-deprecating, wry smile, I braved the rain and opened the car door to get in.

During the drive, Shawn chatted away with her. From what to wear to work tomorrow to how the dog at home had recently lost its appetite.

Anne answered him absentmindedly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

It was as though she’d never once told me, “Don’t distract me while I’m driving.”

I took out my phone. The screen displayed the marriage license appointment page to register our marriage, scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

My finger trembled for a moment.

Then I tapped the cancel button.