He Canceled Our Ring to Buy Her a Bag, and I’m the One Who Looks Foolish Chapter 01
The seventh time I went to pick up my wedding ring, I deliberately wore the most expensive dress I owned.
The sales associate tapped a few keys on her computer, and the smile on her face slowly turned mocking.
“Ms. Bennett, this order has already been canceled.”
“At 10:26 this morning, Mr. Walker personally requested the cancellation. The deposit has been refunded to the original payment method.”
I stood there, suddenly unable to understand what she was saying.
Behind me, two other associates shot me contemptuous looks.
“It’s her again? How many times has this been now?”
“If she can’t afford it, why does she keep coming in? Every time she says she’s here to pick up the ring, and every time it’s either a design change or a cancellation.”
My fingers twitched at my sides.
The nude-pink bridal manicure I had just gotten suddenly looked ridiculous.
When I walked out of the jewelry store, my phone screen lit up.
It was an Instagram post from Lily Carter.
In the photo, she was holding a new designer handbag and smiling brightly at herself in the mirror.
The caption read, [Someone insisted it suited me and wouldn’t take no for an answer.]
I stared at the photo for a long time.
At the edge of the mirror, a man’s hand was visible.
The watch on his wrist was the one I had bought Ryan for his birthday last year after saving up three months of my pay.
A second later, a bank alert popped up.
10:27 a.m. Wedding ring refund: $3,799.
10:39 a.m. Luxury boutique purchase: $3,800.
So the wedding ring I had waited four years for cost only one dollar less than the bag he had casually bought to cheer Lily up.
***
I called Ryan Walker.
The phone rang for a long time before he finally answered.
There was a woman laughing in the background, along with the faint sound of mall announcements.
I asked, “Why did you cancel the wedding ring?”
The other end went quiet for a second.
“That style didn’t look good.”
“I was planning to change it later.”
I looked at the bag in Lily’s Instagram post.
“Did the bag look good?”
Ryan’s voice darkened.
“Evelyn, were you checking up on me again?”
There it was again.
He never asked why I was hurt.
He only asked how I had found out.
I stood beside the mall escalator and watched the crowd moving below.
A couple had just come out of the jewelry store.
The girl was looking down at the ring on her hand, her eyes shining as she smiled.
I lowered my head and looked at my own hand.
With nude-pink nails and an empty ring finger, I looked like a joke.
“Ryan.”
“Are we still having this wedding?”
He seemed impatient.
“Evelyn, can you not make a federal case out of one ring?”
“The venue is booked, you tried on the dress, and all our friends and family have been told.”
“What’s the point of making a scene now?”
I said nothing.
Ryan added, “Lily was upset. What’s wrong with me buying her a bag to cheer her up?”
So the wedding ring I had waited four years for could not even compete with Lily having a bad day.
The smile slowly faded from my face.
“She was upset, so you spent my wedding ring money on her?”
Ryan’s voice went cold.
“What do you mean, your wedding ring money?”
“It was my money.”
My grip tightened around my phone.
Last year, when his studio was short on cash, I was the one who used my savings to cover the gap.
The year before, when he was hospitalized for a stomach bleed, I took half a month off work to take care of him.
On his mother’s birthday, I went all over town to find the hand-embroidered cashmere wrap she liked.
But in the end, even the money for one ring was his.
“Evelyn.”
“Stop acting like you’re such a victim.”
“It’s not like I’m refusing to marry you.”
“What difference does it make if we buy the ring a little later?”
It did make a difference.
But all of a sudden, I no longer wanted to explain.
If someone truly wanted to marry you, he would not let you stand at a counter for the seventh time and be laughed at.
A second later, Lily’s voice came through the phone.
“Ryan, do you think this color suits me better?”
Ryan’s end of the line went abruptly silent.
I did not call him out.
There was no need anymore.
“Evelyn, I have something to do.”
“We’ll talk when I get home tonight.”
He hung up.
I stood where I was, listening to the dial tone.
The mall’s air-conditioning crept up under the hem of my dress.
Before leaving home today, I had even sprayed on the perfume Ryan liked.
He had once said that this gardenia perfume smelled elegant.
Only now did I suddenly remember that gardenia was Lily’s favorite scent.
I took a rideshare home.
On the way, Ryan sent me an iMessage.
Ryan: [Stop making a scene.]
Ryan: [I’ll bring home that peanut-butter cheesecake you like tonight.]
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Peanut-butter cheesecake was Lily’s favorite.
I was allergic to peanuts, and that cheesecake had crushed peanuts in it.
After four years together, he still could not remember.
When I got home, the living room was very quiet.
The sample wedding invitations were sitting on the coffee table.
The cover was pale blue.
That was Lily’s favorite color.
I had once said I wanted white lisianthus and silver ribbon.
Ryan had said, “Whatever. Just don’t make it too complicated.”
But Lily only had to say that pale blue looked more sophisticated.
By the next day, the wedding planner had changed the entire design.
My phone lit up again.
It was a voice message from Ryan’s mother.
“Evelyn, Lily has already helped you two pick out the furniture for the new place.”
“She has great taste. Everything she chose is imported.”
“That girlish Pinterest-board taste of yours was never refined enough for a real home.”
I did not reply.
I opened the design plans for our place.
The study had been changed into Lily’s room.
There was no vanity for me.
There was no floor-to-ceiling bookshelf like I had wanted.
Even the balcony corner where I had said I wanted to grow flowers had been turned into a spot for Lily’s cat bed.
This was supposed to be our home.
But not one part of it looked like mine.
I opened the nightstand drawer.
Inside was a wedding schedule binder.
Every page was covered in my handwritten notes about what time the first look started, when the family photos and toasts were scheduled, which table had older guests who needed mild food, and which relative had a shellfish allergy.
Ryan had written only one sentence on the very last page.
[Lily can’t drink alcohol. Make sure there’s an iced Americano for her.]
I stared at that line for a long time.
Then I threw the entire binder into the trash.
After a long silence, I took out my phone and sent a message to Daniel Brooks.
Evelyn: [Daniel, does your invitation to join the Iceland aurora photography team still stand?]
Evelyn: [I can leave anytime.]
