The moment the lab exploded, my fiancée, Jenna, sprinted past me. She ran toward Kyle, who was standing in the safest part of the room, and threw herself over him, shielding him with her own body. When the deafening roar subsided, she was the first to help him into the ambulance. She never even glanced at me—the man covered in blood and shrapnel, collapsed on the floor. He was the boy she had practically raised for eighteen years, the one who had taken over every inch of her heart. There was no room left for anyone else. A colleague got me to the hospital. I barely survived. The moment I was moved out of the ICU, I fought through a wave of agony and, with a voice raw and broken, called my professor. “Professor Miller, I’ve made my decision. I’ll join your confidential research project. I don’t care if it means leaving in a month and having no contact with anyone for the next five years. I’ll do it.” My wedding was supposed to be in one month. The day I had dreamed of for years. But I didn’t want it anymore. … In the hospital, visitors came and went. All my friends and family stopped by. But Jenna, my fiancée, only made a single phone call. “My sweet Kyle is an absolute mess, I can’t get away,” she’d said, her voice rushed. “You’ll just have to take care of yourself. I have to go, he won’t eat unless I feed him myself. You know how he is.” The “sweet Kyle” she was talking about was her nephew. How pathetic. After ten years together, my life was less important to her than her nephew’s dinner. It was Jenna who’d had a crush on me first, who chased me relentlessly. When other girls made fun of how poor I was, she’d gotten into a screaming catfight, scratching one girl’s face so badly she was nearly suspended. I loved the shrimp po’boys from a little place in the old quarter, and she’d go buy them for me, rain or shine. My grades in calculus were dragging me down, so she’d stay up all night creating study guides for me, breaking down my mistakes and explaining every concept. She was the one who had followed me around like a shadow, who confessed her love and told me she wanted to spend her life with me. And she was the one who, time and time again, abandoned me for Kyle. The fresh sting of my wounds was a constant, searing reminder: a woman who doesn’t love you should have been left behind long ago. I hardened my heart. I deleted every photo, every mention of her from my social media. Then, one by one, I sent a message to my friends and family. [The wedding next month is canceled. Please don’t make the trip.] Twenty-five days later, I checked myself out of the hospital and took a cab back to the house we were supposed to start our married life in. The giant, custom model aircraft I’d spent months sourcing for the front lawn were gone. In their place stood two massive Transformers. The swing I’d built for Jenna had been torn down, replaced by a huge, cartoonish sign that read: “Kyle & Auntie Jenna’s Love Nest.” Below the text were two cartoon figures, locked in a kiss. I didn’t have to ask. I knew it was Kyle’s doing. It wasn't the first time he'd pulled a stunt like this. But no matter how absurd his demands, Jenna always indulged him. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I typed Kyle’s birthday into the keypad and let myself in. Five days. That’s all I had left before I left with Professor Miller. I needed to pack. I went straight upstairs. I never expected that when I pushed open the bedroom door, I would find them tangled together in my bed. Kyle was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. His lip was bruised, as if it had been bitten, and fresh scratch marks raked across his chest. Jenna, in a flimsy slip dress, was nestled against him, her body wrapped around his like a vine. On the floor, a black lace thong lay discarded. I thought I was prepared for anything. But seeing them like that, in my bed, sent a hot rush of blood to my head. This was my house. My bedroom. How could they do this to me? “Alex! You’re back! Why didn’t you say anything?” Jenna jolted awake, scrambling out of bed and hastily pulling on a robe. “It’s not what it looks like. Kyle and I didn’t do anything, don’t get the wrong idea!” Kyle stirred, awakened by the noise, and mumbled petulantly, “I’ve been scared of thunder since I was a kid. I can only ever sleep if I’m holding Auntie Jenna. Don’t tell me you’re going to be petty about something so small, Uncle Alex.” The sheer audacity of it all made me want to break down. But as I stood there, trembling with rage, I remembered the promise I’d made to myself when I left the hospital. I would not be her pathetic, lovesick puppy anymore. I would not lose my composure over her again. “There’s nothing to be petty about,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Don’t worry. Even if you started screwing right here in front of me, I wouldn’t stop you.” I turned to leave. I had to get out before I shattered. But Jenna lunged after me, grabbing my arm, her voice laced with fury. “Kyle and I have done nothing wrong! You’re his elder, how could you say something so disgusting to him? Do you have any idea how much psychological trauma that could cause him? Go apologize to him right now!” I ripped my arm from her grasp, the dam of my control finally breaking. “Psychological trauma? Kyle won’t eat his dinner? Is that all you can think about? Jenna, I was in the hospital for twenty-five days! I almost died! Did you spare even a single second to worry about me?” At the mention of the hospital, her anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of guilt. “It’s not that I didn’t want to visit you! It’s just… Kyle was so traumatized by the explosion. He needed me to comfort him. I couldn’t get away!” Her words extinguished the last ember of hope in my heart, leaving only cold, dead ash. The thousands of words I wanted to scream, the burning sting behind my eyes—it all just vanished. What was there left to fight for? Jenna didn’t love me anymore. That single sentence was the answer to every question I’d ever had. Kyle called for her from the bedroom. She shot me a frustrated look and snapped, “We’ll drop it for today. But don’t you ever speak to him like that again.” Then she was gone. Not one word about how I was. Not one question about my recovery. “So this is it,” I whispered to the empty room. “This is where it ends.” I stood there for a long time before finally moving to pack. I took my documents and a few changes of clothes. Everything else, I left. The last things to go were the dozens of portraits Jenna had painted of me when she was first trying to win me over. A friend of mine, an artist, had once joked, “These portraits have no technique, but they’re all emotion. I couldn’t paint something so full of feeling if I tried.” It was those portraits that had made me believe she truly loved me. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. I carried the box of paintings outside and set them on fire. Jenna found me just as the flames began to lick at the canvases. She ran toward the fire, shoving me aside. She plunged her hands into the blaze, heedless of the heat, trying to rescue the pieces that hadn’t yet burned. “What are you doing?!” she shrieked, her voice trembling. I wanted to say, I don’t want them anymore. Instead, I said, “They were infested with termites.” For years, all we did was fight. I was so tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore. Jenna hesitated for only a second before tossing the singed paintings she’d saved back into the fire. “My sweet Kyle is terrified of bugs,” she said. “I’ll paint you new ones.” “Don’t bother.” There was no us anymore. The flames roared, then shrank, then died, leaving nothing but a pile of gray ash. Just like our love. I swept the ashes into a trash can and posted on my social media: [Five days, including today.] Then I went to the guest room, as far from the master bedroom as I could get, and fell into a dreamless sleep. 2 The next morning, I woke up to a flood of teasing comments on my post. Everyone assumed it was a countdown to the wedding. Jenna had even replied: [I can’t wait to walk down the aisle to you either.] She was the world’s greatest liar. My body and soul ached with exhaustion, and she still wanted to play the part of the happy couple. I didn’t have the energy to play along. I ignored everyone and went downstairs. At breakfast, Jenna asked, “Alex, our appointment to get the marriage license is this afternoon, right?” It was. But I had no intention of going. Before I could say anything, Kyle leaned over and draped an arm around Jenna’s shoulders. “Auntie Jenna, I just remembered. There’s a huge basketball game this afternoon, one I’ve been dying to see.” Jenna tapped his nose affectionately. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Kyle shrugged. “Just remembered. It’s not like I did it on purpose. If you’re too busy, I can just go by myself. I mean, it’s not like I’d mind getting hit on by a bunch of hot girls. Might even meet my soulmate.” He made a show of getting up to leave. “Wait!” Jenna jumped up and grabbed his hand. “I never said I wouldn’t go with you!” She turned to me, her expression pleading. “Alex, you see…” I scoffed. “Only the two of us can get the marriage license. Is there a law that says you have to be Kyle’s date to a basketball game?” Her face darkened. “Kyle is just a kid at heart. He’s been looking forward to this game for so long. Are we really going to let a little thing like our marriage license ruin it for him?” “If you were never going to listen to my opinion, why did you bother asking?” “Alex…” “Fine! I’m not stopping you. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve canceled. What’s one more? Kyle is the most important thing, after all. Go.” The old me would have screamed and argued, desperate to make her see how wrong she was. But now, I couldn't summon the energy. Besides, I didn’t want to marry her anyway. Seeing that I wasn’t going to fight, Jenna’s expression softened. “See? You’re finally starting to be more understanding. Don’t worry, the wedding is still three days away. I promise we’ll get the license before then.” With that assurance, she and Kyle left, arms wrapped around each other. As they walked away, Kyle, nestled against a giggling Jenna, turned back, shot me a triumphant smirk, and flipped me the middle finger. “Auntie Jenna’s not coming home tonight! We’re gonna party hard, so don’t bother us, Uncle Alex!” I had had enough of their shameless behavior. I took out my phone, recorded a short video of them, and saved it to the special folder I kept for them—a collection of videos and photos of their overly intimate moments. I zipped the folder and sent it to the wedding planner. Hello, I’d like to change the photo and video montage that will be played during the ceremony. Please use these instead. Thanks. Then, I posted on my timeline: [Four days left.] They loved showing off their “affection” in front of me. I was just helping them share it with the world. In four days, everyone would get to see their touching “family bond.” The next day, Jenna called. “I won’t be back today or tomorrow. The tournament is a three-day event, and Kyle is having so much fun. I’ve watched him grow up. If I’m not there, I’m worried someone might take advantage of him.” I gave a noncommittal “uh-huh” and hung up. I spent the day at her company, finalizing my resignation. On the way home, I updated my status: [Three days left.] The tournament ended, but Jenna still didn’t come home. Another phone call. “I… I’m not coming home tonight either. Kyle threw me a surprise bachelorette party. You know, one last hurrah before the wedding. I know we have the rehearsal tomorrow and things are busy, but it was such a sweet gesture from him…” For the first time, she sounded unsure of herself, as if even she realized how ridiculous her actions were. In the background, I could faintly hear Kyle’s voice complaining, “Auntie Jenna, when you lose a game and have to kiss someone, you don’t have to bite my lip so hard!” Jenna abruptly hung up. I said nothing. I just systematically went through the house and had movers throw out everything that had a connection to me. The clothes I’d bought her, the lamps I’d chosen, the furniture and dishes I’d picked out. Anything and everything that was mine. [The final day!] I looked around the empty, cavernous house and posted one last time. After today, no matter how much love, hate, or resentment I felt, I was done with Jenna and Kyle for good. Jenna commented: [Don’t worry, darling. This party won’t affect our wedding at all. I’ll be there on time tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you to make me your wife!] But whether she was on time or not, I had no intention of marrying her. I didn’t reply. I just stared at the ceiling until dawn. The next day, at the wedding, the officiant prompted me to get on one knee and present the ring. I looked at Jenna, radiant and smiling in her white gown, and I said, “We’re through, Jenna. I don’t want a woman as tainted as you.” Then, in front of all her friends and family, I turned, grabbed the suitcase I had waiting, and walked out to the helicopter my professor had arranged.
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