Chapter 3

It wasn't long before Donald came home.

He was carrying a small jewelry box, which he carefully held out to me.

"Summer, buying the wrong ring was my fault.

"So I bought you a new one."

As he spoke, he slipped the ring onto my finger.

This time, it fit perfectly.

But when I lowered my eyes, I noticed a tiny engraving inside the band.

C & R.

Donald Cole and Cecily Reynauld.

I stared at the letters and let out a mocking smile.

Donald followed my gaze, and his expression stiffened for a split second.

"The salesperson must've given me the wrong one.

"Don't overthink it."

Just then, another receipt slipped out of the box.

I picked it up.

Same day.

Same jewelry store.

Donald had purchased two rings.

This one cost three times as much as the other.

In that instant, I understood.

The expensive ring engraved with his and Cecily's initials...

Had never been meant for me.

Donald paused before gently patting my head in reassurance.

"When we get married, I'll buy you another one."

Another one.

Next time.

There was always a next time.

Donald always believed every disappointment he caused could be made up for later.

Suddenly, I remembered the first trip we'd ever planned together.

I'd spent two full weeks putting together the perfect itinerary.

Which evening we'd watch the sunset.

Which seafood restaurant we had to try.

Which beach would be the quietest.

But on the day we left, I got to the airport only to discover...

My name wasn't on either plane ticket.

Donald stood there in stunned silence for a long moment before finally saying,

"I think I mixed up your ID information with Cecily's.

"The flights are booked, and the hotel isn't refundable.

"Summer, I'll take you next time."

That island vacation...

Ended with the two of them going without me.

Cecily posted photo after photo.

Golden sunsets.

Palm trees.

And one picture of Donald standing barefoot at the water's edge, carrying her sandals.

I remember staring at that photo, the sadness lingering for so long.

When Donald came home, all he brought me was a box of duty-free chocolates from the airport.

"Don't be upset," he said.

"I'll definitely take you next time."

Later, my favorite singer—someone I'd loved for years—finally came to town on tour.

Donald managed to get two seats together.

I was so excited I couldn't sleep all night.

But when we arrived at the venue, the attendant politely looked at the tickets and said,

"These tickets are registered to Mr. Cole and Ms. Reynauld."

Donald rubbed his forehead awkwardly.

"I mixed them up again."

In the end...

He and Cecily sat in the front row.

After the concert, Cecily posted a photo online.

She was leaning against Donald's shoulder, waving a glow stick.

She captioned: "Listening to my favorite songs with the person who knows me best."

I confronted Donald afterward.

He only sighed.

"Summer, you're reading too much into this.

"Cecily's your best friend. She's not a stranger.

"I couldn't just let her go to a concert by herself."

He always had an explanation.

And I was always expected to be the understanding one.

With that thought, I took off the new ring and placed it back into its box.

Then I turned and walked into the bedroom.

I began packing.

As I did, I realized...

There weren't actually that many things in this house that truly belonged to me.

The cashmere throw draped over the couch?

Cecily had once mentioned she'd get cold when visiting us in the winter.

Donald bought it the very next day.

When I reached my vanity, I spotted a silver bracelet inside the drawer.

It was Donald's birthday gift to me last year.

It cost a little over thirty dollars, and even the gift box had dented corners.

He'd smiled and said,

"It's the thought that counts. The price doesn't matter."

But for Cecily's birthday this year, he'd given her a custom-made necklace.

She'd carelessly tucked the receipt inside a book, and it had eventually fallen between the cushions of our couch.

$3,000.

More than ten times the price of my bracelet.

Even our refrigerator was stocked with Cecily's favorite low-sugar yogurt and fresh cherries.

The jasmine tea I liked had been gone for weeks.

I'd reminded Donald several times.

He always answered the same way.

"I'll pick some up next time."

Eventually, he never did "next time."

Donald stood in the bedroom doorway, watching me fold clothes into my suitcase.

For the first time, impatience crept into his voice.

"How long are you going to keep this up?

"I bought you another ring.

"I apologized.

"What more do you want?"

I quietly zipped up my suitcase.

Then I looked down and spoke in an almost whisper.

"Donald.

"There isn't going to be a next time."

He shoved the door open and stormed out.

I didn't go after him.

In my inbox, the confirmation email for the overseas long-term assignment sat quietly, waiting.

My flight was tomorrow.

Donald and I...

Would never have a next time again.