He Let Her Steal the Food Off My Plate,So I Called Off the Wedding

The beef noodles I'd ordered had barely landed on the table when Sarah Summers started plucking the meat away slice by slice, grinning as she did it. Beth Henson, Sam says you don't eat much, so I'll take some off your hands.

Perfect!

Samuel Pruitt didn't stop her. He praised her, fond and indulgent.

Yet last week, when I accidentally drank a mouthful of Sarah's yogurt, he blew up at me and stayed furious for three straight days.

The memory cooled my face. I stood to leave.

"You're making a scene over a few slices of beef?"

Samuel grabbed my wrist. "Sarah meant well. She didn't want you to waste food. You should be thanking her."

"Fine, if it's that big a deal, I'll pay you back fifty bowls."

I met his accusing stare.

All at once this relationship felt suffocating. I lowered my head and messaged an old classmate.

"Didn't you want me to start a company with you before? I'm in. I'll put up five hundred thousand."

"What? Isn't that your wedding-home money?"

"I'm not buying it. And I'm not getting married."

...

Samuel watched me keep my head down, thumbing at my phone, and his brow creased. "Who are you texting?"

Before I could answer, Sarah jumped in. "Beth, surely you're not running home to complain to your family over something this small?"

The next second, Samuel's face darkened.

"You're a grown woman, still tattling to your parents."

"We're getting married in a month. What are you stirring up trouble for, at a time like this?"

I found it almost funny.

Six years I'd been with him. Steamed buns and cold water. Days I worked five jobs. The times I ran a high fever and wouldn't spend a cent on even a single pill to save money...

Never once had I complained to my parents. Never once had I said it was hard.

And this was what it earned me, this ugly suspicion of his.

I pulled my hand free and answered calmly. "I'm just chatting with a friend."

"Come on. You think I don't know you?"

Samuel gave a scornful little laugh. "It's a few slices of beef. I'll pay you back."

"Boss, fifty bowls of beef noodles! No takeout. She'll eat them right here!"

The whole room stared.

The owner rushed over to confirm, sure he'd misheard. Samuel just paid on the spot.

The payment chime rang out.

It went into my heart like a needle, and my fists closed tight.

Bowl after bowl of beef noodles came to my table.

The stares around me grew sharper.

Six years together, and I never dreamed Samuel would humiliate me like this, in front of a whole room of strangers.

"Sam, I can't eat any more."

Sarah spoke up again.

The bowl in front of her was almost untouched. She'd only taken my beef to get under my skin.

"Then don't."

Samuel smiled at her, indulgent, then turned to me. "Sarah and I are heading back first. Take your time."

The two of them left the noodle shop pressed close together, walking farther and farther away, exactly the way this thing between Samuel and me had walked away for good...

I pulled back my blurred gaze and handed the fifty bowls out to the customers who'd just come in.

On the way home.

A fine rain had started to fall.

I had no umbrella, and I didn't call a car. I just walked back to the rental, and through the half-open bedroom door I saw Samuel putting Sarah to sleep.

Telling her some sweet little bedtime story I'd never once heard.

He must have caught the sound of my footsteps.

Samuel turned, saw me, made a shushing gesture, then picked up his phone and typed something quietly.

A moment later his message came through.

Keep it down, don't make any noise. Sarah just fell asleep.

Yet yesterday, when I was resting with a headache, Samuel brought Sarah over to hang out.

Sarah cranked the music to full volume, laughing, jumping rope.

The noise made my ears ache.

Samuel didn't stop her. He handed her fruit and snacks, thoughtful as ever.

It only stopped once I couldn't help but say something. But that night Samuel lectured me about it: "Sarah's a guest. Stop nickel-and-diming her from now on."

This time I said nothing. I sat down quietly on the couch.

Just then, my old classmate Duane Gilbert sent over the digital agreement.

Look the agreement over. If there's nothing wrong with it, we'll print it out and sign.

I had barely opened it.

Samuel's voice came from behind me. "What are you investing in? Didn't we agree you'd cover the down payment on the wedding home? Don't go throwing money around at a time like this."

I didn't answer. I put my phone away and glanced at the laundry basket a little way off.

Inside it were Sarah's JK-style skirt, lingerie, and socks.

"Can you not read into it?"

Samuel said quickly, "Sarah's clothes got soaked. Since the two of you are about the same size, I gave her that new nightdress and lingerie you bought."

That set of nightdress and lingerie was one Samuel had picked out himself. An intimate style.

Something that private, and he'd handed it to Sarah to wear. The meaning couldn't have been clearer.

The nightclothes weren't the point. Who wore them was.

"Cough, cough"

Sarah's coughing drifted out from the bedroom.

"Sarah!"

Samuel's face tightened. He rushed back to the bedroom, all concern. "What is it? Where does it hurt?"

"My throat's a little sore."

Sarah said it like a wounded child.

"I'll find you some medicine right now."

Samuel flew back out to the living room and started rummaging through everything.

I watched him bustle around.

I looked down and answered Duane's message: The agreement's fine. Let's sign today.

Also, help me find a new place to live.

Duane agreed without hesitation.

I turned my head toward the bedroom. Samuel was feeding Sarah the medicine, one spoonful at a time.

This rental was far too crowded for three people.

I was bowing out.

I'd leave them their nice, quiet world for two.

So I didn't disturb them. I turned and made do in the study for the night.

When I woke the next morning, my head was spinning, my nose felt stuffed with cotton, and my voice had gone hoarse.

"Beth!"

Samuel burst in, holding his phone up toward me. "Let's switch to that fully finished unit! It's only seven hundred thousand more in the budget. You put in a bit more for the down payment and we get a bigger three-bedroom, and there'll be a room just for Sarah."

"That way you won't have to wear yourself out sleeping in the study either."

For the past couple of years, Samuel had poured all his home-buying money into his startup. So the plan was for my family to cover the down payment first, and buy a used two-bedroom to marry in.

We'd pay the mortgage together after that.

But now, so Sarah could live with us, he was willing to stretch the budget and buy a bigger place.

And he dressed it up as sparing me the trouble.

"Arrange it however you want."

I didn't object.

None of it had anything to do with me anymore.

"So obedient today. That earns you a kiss."

Samuel was beaming. "I'll share the link with you. Talk it over with the agent."

"Sarah's still not feeling well this morning. I'm taking her to the hospital. Pick up some groceries at noon. She loves fish."

He gave his instructions and turned to go.

"Wait."

I couldn't stop myself from calling out to him. "Don't you notice anything different about me?"

"Your voice is a little hoarse, your nose is a little stuffed."

Samuel paused, then added, "You're tough. Just drink plenty of hot water."

"You went to work with gastroenteritis, after all."

Those last two lines cut sharper than any knife, and nearly shattered every last bit of light inside me.

The same cold.

Last night he'd rushed to find Sarah medicine, and kept her company all night telling her stories.

Today he hadn't cared about me at all.

And I was the one who was sicker.

If Sarah mattered more to him, then fine. I wouldn't fight for the spot.

While Samuel was busy nursing Sarah, I downed a packet of cold medicine and went out to sign the investment agreement with Duane.

Once the arrow leaves the bow, there's no calling it back.

"You're sure you don't want the wedding house? You'd rather put the money into business with me?"

Duane held out a pen and asked me seriously.

"Yes."

I gave a small nod. "He has what he's chasing. I have what I'm choosing."

Signed.

Thumbprint pressed.

All in one clean motion.

I trusted Duane. We'd been classmates for as long as I could remember.

More than that, he was the investment prodigy even our professors had praised.

Back in college he'd built a campus food-delivery platform and opened two little shops, and made his first pot of money off it.

The truth was, he'd tried to bring me in as a partner more than once.

But I always turned him down, because I wanted to keep money in reserve to support Samuel.

Once the agreement was signed, Duane said to me, "I'll drive you to the clinic."

"You've been the same since you were a kid. Catch a cold or a fever, and you need an IV, or you'll run hot for a week."

Samuel knew all of that too.

He'd just forgotten.

He'd also forgotten why I dragged myself to work sick every time. I was trying to put a little more away, in case his company ever went under.

So we wouldn't end up out on the street.

That afternoon, Duane took me to look at a few places.

I liked one of them, and Duane paid and signed the lease on the spot, calling it staff housing.

At the same time he handed me another agreement. He wanted me to be VP of the company.

I didn't hesitate. I said yes.

Early evening.

I'd just reached my front door when my dad called out of nowhere.

"Sweetheart."

"Your mom and I got a flight cancellation notice. Is this one of those scam texts?"

Last week Samuel and I had settled on a resale house and planned to buy it this week, exactly so I could bring my parents over to stay for a while.

I walked them through sending me a screenshot.

It really was the airline's number.

Just to be sure I hadn't gotten it wrong, I called the airline myself. The answer was the same: the tickets had been canceled.

I walked in the door frowning, and Sarah came rushing over.

"Beth."

"Sam just booked flights for my mom and dad. They'll be here tomorrow night, so why don't you reserve a restaurant and we can all have dinner together."

The word flights snagged on every raw nerve I had.

I turned toward Samuel, who was slicing fruit in the kitchen. "So that's your reason for canceling my parents' tickets?"

"Don't blow it up like that."

Samuel sighed and came out carrying the fruit plate. "It's not easy for Sarah's parents to make the trip, so I wanted them to be able to stay a while."

"As for your parents, they've lived in the country their whole lives. They'd never be comfortable in the city. They can just come on the wedding day."

"And you know how things are with my company. Sarah's family is closer, so the flights save a few hundred. It's the smart call!"

Watching him wear that look, like he'd thought it all through so carefully, my chest went tight, and I hated that I'd ever fallen for someone this worthless.

My parents were open-minded people. They knew starting a company was hard for Samuel, so they agreed to ask for no bride price. Instead they handed over a hundred thousand to help with the down payment.

How much produce, how much wheat did they have to grow to save a hundred thousand?

They just wanted to come see their daughter and son-in-law.

It's not easy for Sarah's parents to make the trip.

And it was easy for mine?

Samuel knew all of it, and he still put Sarah's parents first.

So this was what it meant to love the man and everything around him too.

Huh? Didn't I send you out for groceries? Why are your hands empty?

Samuel tacked that on too.

It cut even deeper.

My mouth fell half open, and for a moment I couldn't get a word out.

Beth, have a slice of lemon.

Sarah seized the chance, grabbed a lemon slice, and pushed it into my mouth.

It was so sour it brought tears straight to my eyes.

I went and splashed water on my face, then took out my phone and texted my parents: Mom, Dad, I'm not marrying Samuel.

One day I'll buy a big house and bring you two to live with me for good.

Dad called right away.

Sweetheart.

Don't do anything rash! Maybe Sam has his reasons. It's fine if your mother and I don't move to the city. As long as we can be at your wedding, as long as you're happy, that's all that matters.

Mom chimed in beside him: That's right. We'd only be in the way there anyway.

Hearing them swallow the slight and still make excuses for Samuel, wanting nothing but for me to have a happy marriage.

Then looking at Samuel and Sarah laughing and messing around right in front of me.

It broke my heart. I turned and walked out the front door, and said, Mom, Dad.

I'm not being rash, and I'm not joking.

This marriage would never make me happy.

Everyone knew I loved Samuel. Loved him past all reason.

But now I had no love left to give.

After a silence, they answered: Sweetheart, you've been hurt, haven't you? If you don't want to marry him, then don't. Whatever you decide, we're behind you.

I told them not to worry, hung up, and turned to go pack my clothes in the bedroom.

Only then did it hit me. My clothes were the same few outfits I wore on rotation, and for makeup I had one lipstick worn down to the bottom and a tube of sunscreen.

Not even half a suitcase to fill.

Samuel's side of the closet, by contrast, was packed with designer suits and shirts in every style.

All of it for his image.

I carried my bag out of the bedroom.

Samuel froze, then frowned. Where are you going?

I've got a business trip for a few days.

I answered.

The next second his frown smoothed out and he let out a breath. I thought you were about to throw a childish fit and run away from home.

He turned, pulled a few bottles of mango yogurt from the fridge, and pushed them at me. You love yogurt. Take these for the road.

I did love yogurt.

But never mango. I'm allergic to mango.

Mango was the one Sarah wanted for everything.

Aw, what a shame. Guess I don't get to mooch a meal off Beth.

Sarah spread her hands, then stuck out her tongue. But don't worry, I'll take good care of Sam.

I only smiled, said nothing, turned and left. On my way out I dropped the yogurt in the trash can downstairs.

Ten minutes later.

Samuel called out of nowhere.

Beth, swing by the new place first and change the door code to my birthday.

Sarah's parents want to stay a while longer, so I'm going to have them move into the new house.

Since you're away on this trip, feel free to take a few extra days out there. No rush to come back, so Sarah's folks don't feel cramped or awkward.

He was getting more and more thoughtful and attentive.

Just not toward me.

Then Sarah's coaxing voice drifted through: Sam, give me a hug!

I said nothing, let out a cold laugh, hung up, and blocked and deleted him on the spot.

Whoever wants to play the fool for him, let them.

This girl is focusing on her career now.

The next evening.

Samuel brought Sarah's whole family to the front of the new place and, grinning ear to ear, keyed in the code.

Wrong password!