04
Before I opened the door, Ophelia shot me a warning look, pointing at my forehead. “If you even think about getting back together with him, I swear I will cut you off for good.”
I laughed it off. “Whoever reconciles is a dog,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
My dad, Vincent Marlow, swung the door open.
The moment Andrew stepped in, he was met with a storm.
Vincent hurled Andrew’s bags out onto the porch, but Andrew, ever persistent, just picked them up again.
This back–and–forth drew the attention of several neighbors, who peeked out to see what the commotion was about.
“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” Andrew kept mumbling under his breath, his tone pleading, and finally, Vincent relented, allowing him to step inside.
Once inside, Andrew effortlessly made his way to the kitchen as if he’d lived there forever.
My parents exchanged glances, and Ophelia muttered something about how shameless he was, pulling out her phone to text her thoughts.
I watched Andrew from a distance, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest.
It was in our fifth year together that our relationship had finally started to stabilize.
That was when he had given me a beautiful anniversary gift, a necklace, and tentatively suggested we meet each other’s parents.
I had agreed.
We visited his family first, and his mom had given me a big gift, while Amelia’s parents expressed their gratitude for taking care of their daughter and gifted me a pair of bracelets.
Andrew had sensed my discomfort and showed up at my house the next day, bustling about, helping in the kitchen, and brewing coffee.
He came over several times, and people began to say I had found a great husband.
I could see my parents recalling those moments.
Vincent sighed, “What a mess this has turned into.”
My mom, Miranda Marlow, looked at me. “Should we kick him out?”
Vincent said, “He seems sincere. We know how things are with Amelia; this isn’t all Andrew’s fault.”
He patted my hand gently. “Let’s give him another chance. If it doesn’t work out, I promise you, he won’t set foot in this house again.” Ophelia rolled her eyes dramatically, which made me chuckle despite the tension.
As Andrew emerged from the kitchen, carrying a dish, he caught sight of me laughing and seemed to relax a bit.
“Alright, everyone, let’s sit down!” he called out, acting more like the host than my parents.
Not wanting to embarrass Vincent, I pulled out a chair and sat down.
Ophelia took the seat to my left, and when Andrew moved to sit on my right, she quickly grabbed the back of the chair, blocking him. She flashed him a fake smile. “Sorry, this seat’s taken.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Ophelia dashed to answer it, letting in a tall, lanky figure. It was her brother, Nick Caldwell. Nick stood to my right, towering over Andrew by a good half a foot.
With the two of them flanking me, Andrew was effectively cut off.
Ophelia slid a piece of meat onto my plate while Nick, too shy to take any for himself, quietly peeled shrimp, placing them on my dish.
It was obvious to everyone that he was doing it for me.
Meanwhile, Andrew picked at his food, clearly lacking any appetite.
Halfway through dinner, Andrew’s phone rang.
A soft, sultry voice came through. “Andrew, I’m having surgery tonight. Aren’t you coming to keep me company?”
The dining room fell silent.
Andrew hesitated before responding, “Your parents will be there with you.”
10:09 PM
He hung up, and Vincent’s expression softened slightly, but I felt a chill run through me.
I didn’t know whether to mock Andrew or to pity myself.
Sure enough, the phone rang again almost immediately.
This time, frantic breathing and sobs filled the line. “Andrew, I need you. I’m in so much pain… please come? This might be our last chance to see each
other…”
The sound of a fork clattering against the plate broke the silence as Vincent slammed it down.
Andrew glanced at Vincent, then at me, his hand gripping the phone so tightly that the veins on his forearm were standing out.
I picked up a shrimp, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just go.”
It was as if my words had given him permission.
Andrew looked at me gratefully before standing up. “Evelina, I promise when I get back, I’ll make it up to you with an even bigger wedding.”
I had intended to let this go and discuss our breakup later, not wanting to ruin the evening’s mood.
But he had to push my buttons.
I set down my fork, wiped my mouth slowly, and stood up. “I’ll go with you. I want to see her one last time.”
Andrew hesitated for a moment. “Alright.”
