Seven Days Before the Wedding, My Fiancée Canceled the Wedding Reception

The customer service rep’s voice was still echoing in my ears when I held my phone, my fingers going cold. Canceled three days ago?

But three days ago, Mia was still discussing the design of the invitations with me. She was still asking me whether I’d picked the color for the groomsmen’s suits.

I hung up and stood in the living room, staring at the wedding schedule spread out on the coffee table. The lock clicked.

I heard Mia changing her shoes. “Ethan, I bought that chestnut pastry you like.” Her voice came from the entryway. “I stood in line for half an hour, and I grabbed the last box.” I stood there without moving.

She walked in carrying the bag, still smiling. When she saw me, she froze for a second. “What’s wrong?

Just standing there spacing out?” I watched her set the bag on the coffee table, take the box out, open the lid as usual, and hand me a fork. “Try it.

It’s still warm.” I didn’t take it. “Mia.” “Is there something you need to tell me?” Her hand paused for a second.

Then she kept setting the fork on the box and looked up at me, still wearing that same smile. “What is it? Are you talking about my mom coming over?

She just texted me and said—” “The hotel.” She fell silent. The living room went quiet.

She stood on one side of the coffee table, and I stood on the other, with that table full of wedding documents between us. “Today the hotel customer service told me that three days ago, you went to the front desk and canceled the booking.” Mia lowered her head and looked at the papers on the coffee table. “Ethan,” she said softly, “I was just about to talk to you about that.” “Talk to me about what?” “The wedding.” She looked up at me. “I think all this stuff is unnecessary.

It’s a waste of money. Look at this table full of dishes—5,888 dollars.

Ten tables means more than fifty thousand, and we only eat for a few hours.” “And the wedding planner, the host, the photographer—put all that together, and it’s several more thousands.

Wouldn’t it be better to save that money and spend it on something else?” I looked at her, at the way her mouth moved. “Didn’t we already agree on this?” “You said a wedding only happens once in a lifetime, so a bigger budget was fine.” “You said we should find a good wedding planner, and the photographer should have two cameras so we wouldn’t regret it when we watched the video later.” “I thought about it later, and I decided it wasn’t necessary.” “A lot of young couples don’t even have weddings anymore, right?

A travel wedding is so much better—saves money and trouble. We can go to Colorado, to Aspen. You’ve always wanted to go, haven’t you?”

“Mia.” “Yeah?” “Look me in the eyes.” She looked at me. “Is there another reason?” I asked. “What other reason?” “You don’t want to get married anymore?” She frowned. “What are you talking about?

When did I ever say I didn’t want to get married?” “Then why did you cancel the wedding? Why didn’t you tell me?” “Didn’t I already say it?

I think it’s a waste of money.” “Mia.” I cut her off. “We’ve been together for three years. Don’t I know what you’re like?

When you want something, no matter how expensive it is, you have to get it.” “Since when do you care this much about money?” She didn’t say anything. “If you really think the wedding isn’t necessary, we can talk about it.” I took a step forward. “Why did you go behind my back and cancel it?

Why didn’t you talk to me first?” “Aren’t I talking to you now?” “This is talking?” I pointed at the papers on the coffee table. “You already canceled it.

Now you’re coming to talk to me? That’s not talking.

That’s telling me after the fact!” She took a deep breath and turned her face away. “I already told my mom.” “You should tell your parents too.

Let’s just not do the wedding.” Something in my head went buzzing. “You told your mom?” “Yes.” “What did she say?” “She said...” She paused. “She said it’s up to us to decide.” I stared at her profile. “Mia.” “Give me your phone.” “What?” “Your phone.

Let me see it.” Her hand moved back a little, just a little. Very slight.

But I saw it. “What for?” she said, her voice tightening a little. “What’s so good about my phone?” “You used to let me look whenever I wanted.” “That doesn’t mean you can look every day, does it?” I walked toward her and reached out. “Give it to me.” She stepped back. “Ethan, don’t do this.” “Do what?” “You’re...” She avoided my hand. “You’re not trusting me.” I laughed. “I don’t trust you?

Mia, you’re the one who canceled the wedding behind my back. You’re the one who hid it from me. And now you’re telling me I don’t trust you?” She didn’t say anything.

Her hand was in her pocket, and I knew she was holding her phone. “Take it out,” I said. “No.” “Mia.” “I said no.” Her voice hardened. “My phone is private.

Why should I show you?” “That’s not what you used to say.” “Back then you said there was no privacy between us.

Back then you said I could look whenever I wanted.” “That was then.” “And now?” She said nothing. I looked at her, at the person I had been with for three years.

She stood on the other side of the coffee table, separated from me by one table, but it felt like she had already stepped a very, very long way away. “Are you hiding something from me?” I asked.

“No.” “Then let me see your phone.” “No.” “Why not?” “Because no.” I moved forward, walked around the coffee table, and stopped in front of her.

She backed up to the entryway, her back hitting the shoe cabinet. “Ethan.” I reached for her pocket. She grabbed my wrist.

Her grip was so hard it hurt, and I hissed in pain. “Let go.” “Don’t do this.” “Mia, let go of me.” Her fingers clamped around my wrist, her knuckles turning white.

She was afraid I’d see what was in the phone. The more she acted like this, the more I wanted to see it. “Ethan!” she shouted, shoving me hard.

I staggered back two steps, my back slamming into the wall, and I sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.

She stood in the entryway, her chest rising and falling, the phone clenched tightly in her hand. We just stared at each other like that, neither of us saying a word.

After a long time, she looked away. “I’m leaving first.” Her voice had gone low. “Let’s both calm down.” She opened the door and walked out.

The door slammed shut with a bang, and I leaned against the wall before slowly sliding down to the floor.

I sat there for a long time, so long that the sky outside turned completely dark. I got up and went to find my phone. I scrolled to Mom in my contacts and called her.

She picked up quickly. “Ryan?

Why are you calling at this hour?” When I heard my mom’s voice, my eyes suddenly burned. “Mom,” I said, my throat tightening, “the wedding’s canceled.” “What?” “Mia canceled it at the hotel and didn’t tell me.

I only found out today.” There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, then my mom’s voice shot up. “What does she mean? What right does she have to cancel it?

Did you two fight?” “No.” “Then why?” “She said it was a waste of money.” I leaned back on the sofa and looked at the ceiling. “She said she already told her parents and told me to let you know too.” “Bullshit!” My mom cursed. “A waste of money?

The wedding money is coming from our family too, and we didn’t say a word. How dare she say that?” I didn’t say anything. “Ryan, tell Mom the truth.

Did something happen?” “I don’t know.” “I wanted to see her phone, and she wouldn’t let me.” “You wait. We’re coming over right now!” “Mom, no need.” “No need?

You stay home and don’t go anywhere! We’re only a few miles from you. Wait there, we’ll be right over.” The call ended.

I held my phone and listened to the sounds outside the window. I threw the phone onto the sofa, stood up, and walked into the bedroom.

On the nightstand was still our photo, taken in San Diego last year. I had my arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against my chest.

Both of us were smiling so hard our eyes had narrowed. Behind the photo, she had written: With Ethan, forever. Forever. How far is forever?

I opened the closet and took out her clothes, throwing them one by one onto the bed. Her Tshirts, her blouses, her coat.

By the end, one side of the closet was empty, and the clothes on the bed had piled up like a little mountain. I sat down beside that pile and stared blankly for a while.

Then I stood up and went to the study. There was a tablet in the study. It was hers, and she usually left it at home for use here. I knew the password.

It was the same as our phones: the date we got together. I opened the tablet. The screen showed the interface I knew well, and her SnapChat was logged in.

I opened the chat list and scrolled down. There was nothing suspicious—just work groups and a few friends, with chat histories from a few days ago.

Still unwilling to give up, I checked the photo album and browser history too, but there was nothing. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe she really just thought it was a waste of money?

But that look, that avoidance, that shove. I opened her shopping app again. Three orders, all marked awaiting delivery. The delivery address wasn’t ours.

I remembered the address after one glance. It was a certain building, in a certain unit, in a certain apartment in some residential complex. Not our complex. Not a place I knew.

I opened the order details. The first one was from a week ago. A men’s leather belt, $230. Not the brand I used. The second one was from five days ago.

A set of men’s skincare products, $180. Still not the brand I used. The third one was from three days ago. A bottle of men’s cologne, over $90. Not the one I liked.

I set the tablet down, my fingers shaking hard. I opened her order history and scrolled farther back. Two months ago, a computer. One month ago, a watch.

Half a month ago, a cake delivered to that address. The recipient had a name, three characters, with the last name Lin.

I looked at that name many times to make sure I didn’t know it. Then I checked her payment records, her delivery records, and her travel records.

The more I looked, the more my hands shook. A restaurant order, a meal for two, last Thursday. That day she said she was working overtime and didn’t get home until after nine.

She said she was too tired and just had some cafeteria food at the office. Movie tickets, two of them, for the Sunday before last.

That day she said she had a meeting at work, left in the afternoon, and didn’t get back until night.

I stayed home and watched a soccer game all day, waiting for her to come back for dinner. Ridehailing records to that residential complex, at least twice a week.

The most recent one was three days ago. I closed the tablet. My phone rang. It was a message from Mom: Your dad and I are downstairs. We’re coming up now.

I stood up, my legs a little weak, and leaned against the wall for a moment. I walked to the living room, opened the door, and then went back to sit on the sofa.

Soon, footsteps sounded outside. My mom came in first, and my dad followed behind her. My mom saw me and her face changed. She hurried over. “Are you okay?

Is something wrong?” “Mom, I’m fine.

Really, I’m fine.” “Where’s Mia?” “She left.” “Where did she go?” “I don’t know.” My mom sat down beside me, and my dad stood on the other side of the coffee table. “Ryan,” my dad said, his voice steady, “tell me exactly what happened.” I looked at my dad and told him everything from the beginning.

The hotel’s cancellation call, Mia coming back, what she said, me asking to see her phone and her refusing, then her slamming the door and leaving.

I didn’t say that I had checked the tablet afterward.

After listening, my mom’s face turned dark with rage. “This wedding is off.” “Before you’re even married, she’s already hiding things from you.

If you actually got married, what then? What the hell does Mia think she is? What part of you isn’t good enough for her?” “There’s nothing to discuss.

She can cancel the wedding behind your back today, and tomorrow she can do something else behind your back. Someone like that is not worth keeping.”

My dad said nothing. He just looked at me. “Ryan, what do you think?” What did I think? I thought about those orders, that address, that name.

I thought about how she said she was working overtime, how she said she was in meetings, how she said she was too tired and wanted to rest early. “Dad, I want to confirm one more thing.” “What thing?” I stood up, went into the study, and brought out the tablet.

I pulled up those orders and handed it to my dad. My dad looked at it, his brow furrowing.

My mom leaned over to look, and when she finished, she lifted her head to look at me, her eyes red. “That address isn’t ours.” “And those things weren’t bought for you.” The living room went quiet.

My mom wiped at her tears beside me, and my dad stayed silent for a long time. “What do you want to do?” he asked.

I looked at him, then at my mom. “I want to wait for her to come back.” “I want to hear what she says.” “What’s left to hear?” my mom said, wiping her tears. “The evidence is all here.

What else is there to say?” “Mom, I want to hear it from her own mouth.” My dad patted my mom on the shoulder. “Let him handle it himself.” My mom wanted to say something else, but my dad held her back.

He looked at me and said, “Call Dad anytime if anything comes up.

No matter how late it is.” “I know.” “Then we’ll head back first.” “Okay.” They got to the door, and my mom turned back and hugged me again.

She held on so tightly that it was hard to breathe. “Ryan, Mom’s here with you.” “It’s okay, Mom. Go home.

I just want to be alone for a while.” She let go of me, looked at me for a long time, and finally sighed before leaving with my dad. The door closed, and the house fell quiet again.

Mia didn’t come back. I sent her a message: Come back. We need to talk. She didn’t reply.

I just sat there, looking at the wedding materials, looking at the chestnut pastry, looking at all the things that should have belonged to us. When daylight came, the lock clicked.

I looked up and saw Mia walk in. When she saw me sitting on the sofa, she froze for a second, then looked away and went straight into the bedroom. I stood up and followed her.

She opened the closet, took out a suitcase, unzipped it, and started putting clothes inside. Her Tshirts, her blouses, her coat.

The clothes I had thrown on the bed last night, she folded one by one and put into the suitcase. “Mia.” She didn’t stop. “Mia, look at me.” She kept folding clothes.

I walked over and grabbed her wrist. She shook me off and kept folding. “Let’s cool off for a few days.” She said, looking at the suitcase. “I’ll move out for a few days first.

Let’s both calm down.” I looked at her, at her hands, at the clothes she folded so carefully. “Cool off for a few days?” I asked. “Just a few days.” “And then what?” She looked up at me.

Her lips moved, like she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back down. “Mia,” I said, “there’s no need to cool off anymore.” She looked at me. “Let’s just break up.” Her hand paused for a second, then she kept folding clothes. “Ethan, don’t be like this.” “I just think the wedding isn’t necessary.

I wanted to save some money.

Do you really need to make such a big deal out of it?” I laughed. “Save money?” “Yes.” “Save it for who?” She didn’t say anything. “For that guy with the last name Lin?” “Buying him a computer, buying him a watch.

Booking restaurants for him, buying movie tickets for him. Was all that money supposed to be saved?”