The Old Years Were a Dream, Love Never Returned

The day Luther Sanchez and I were supposed to get engaged, the man who was never late didn't show up all day.

His secretary made it official on her social media feed.

Thank you, Mr. Sanchez, for the Valentine's ring. I love it.

In the photo, a man and a woman wore matching rings, fingers laced together, and the edge of his cuff still carried a smear of the purple berry cake topping I'd made that morning.

I quietly hit like and left a comment: "That's nice. You suit him well."

A minute later Luther called and snapped that I was making a scene over nothing. It was just an incentive bonus for an employee, and could I please stop letting my nasty imagination run wild.

There was a sneer in his voice.

"Joyce Dickerson, I've already agreed to get engaged to you. This is the last time I indulge you. There won't be a next."

Once, I would have gone hysterical, made such a scene that the whole company knew.

But now, I truly didn't care.

I bowed and apologized to the crowd of guests who'd come for the engagement, then returned every gift they'd brought.

Outside the hotel, I made the call myself, to the research institute.

"Captain, that mission you mentioned last time. I accept."

By the time I'd canceled everything I'd booked for the engagement, it was past one in the morning when I got home.

I tried my key in the door.

But the door had been bolted shut from the inside.

I went to the window beside it, and there, under the lights, I saw two people holding each other tight.

This was the wedding home Luther and I had bought together, and now it framed the shape of him wrapped around another woman.

If I'd seen this before, it truly would have hurt.

But now I only felt tired.

I'd spent the whole day canceling the hotel and all the arrangements we'd prepared early for the engagement, and I was worn out.

The blisters on my feet gave off a tight, faint ache.

I leaned against the cold wall and crouched down, and dialed that familiar number again.

"Captain, I've made up my mind. I'll join the research team on this mission."

The line was quiet for a long while. "Joyce, you were the finest talent our science institute had back then. When we first invited you, you kept saying you needed time to think."

"It was only later I found out you gave up everything for that Sanchez boy. But you have to understand, this time the team is going to the Arctic. Ice and snow, weather that turns in an instant. The mission runs for years, with no contact with the outside world. Please think this through carefully."

I answered with a choked sound, and heard a sigh come from the other end.

"Captain, I only have one request. Erase my identity. Tell the world I was lost at sea."

"All right. Time is short. Seven days from now you have to be at the rendezvous point. I'll let you know the exact location."

When I hung up, I let out a breath like a weight had lifted, lighter inside than I'd ever felt.

Once, I'd believed Luther was different.

Ten years ago, Luther had gone down on one knee and promised I was his whole world.

Because of those words, I built the company at his side for ten years.

From having nothing, to Sanchez Corp, now surging at its peak.

Until the car accident five years ago changed everything, and I watched him hire Rose Pruitt as his private secretary on the spot.

For the first time, I fought with him, loud and furious.

He called me unreasonable, small-minded.

And in the end it was me, unable to let go of that love, who lowered my head and admitted I'd been wrong.

But I never imagined that giving Luther chance after chance would earn me this: Luther bringing Rose home himself, today.

In that moment, deep down, I truly gave up on this man for good.

After I hung up, I braced myself against the wall and stood.

And came face to face with Rose, on her way out with the trash.

The second she saw me, she looked a little surprised. "Joyce. I didn't think you'd come back."

Luther walked out too, a robe thrown over him.

The sight of his face.

All that came to mind was the two of them a moment ago, wrapped around each other inside, tender and close, in the very wedding home Luther and I had bought together.

In that moment, I only wanted to push past him and get my things out of this place as soon as I could.

Rose's sugary voice came from behind me.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Sanchez. I think I was the one who bolted the door earlier, and that's why poor Joyce was left out in the cold all this time."

"It's fine. You didn't mean to. No need to be so hard on yourself."

Luther gently patted her head.

I pretended I hadn't seen any of it and walked into my own room to start packing.

The break from my usual behavior caught Luther's attention.

He followed me, which he rarely did, and explained to my back.

"Rose has a roach problem at her place lately. She's staying with us for a few days. Don't get the wrong idea."

I answered coldly and kept packing.

Luther assumed I was upset.

"Joyce Dickerson, stop giving me that face over and over. I've already agreed to get engaged to you. If you keep up this attitude, don't think I won't call and cancel every booking."

He thought the threat would make me back down like always, that I'd sincerely come and admit I'd been wrong.

But this time, I turned my head and looked at him quietly, holding his gaze.

"No need to trouble yourself. I've already canceled it all."

Luther froze, staring at me in disbelief.

"Joyce, there's a limit to how far you can push a lie."

"Time and again, you can't stand the sight of anyone else near me."

"Rose knocked herself out drinking on my behalf just to help me land that deal. And you? All these years living off me, eating my food, and you still find something to complain about?"

Listening to Luther, I nearly laughed.

Back when he said he wanted to start his own company, I gave up a promotion that was about to come through and followed him without a second thought.

I poured everything I had into it, wearing myself down chasing clients and closing deals for him.

I knew he was allergic to alcohol, so in those years I was the one who took every drink meant for him. There was a stretch where I drank until I was throwing up, and that was how I ended up with a serious stomach condition.

I still remember Luther crying at my bedside that day, promising he would treat me well for the rest of our lives.

But now that he had a stable company and a higher standing, he had forgotten every bit of what I once gave up for him.

A bitter sting rose behind my nose, and the unfairness of it left me close to tears.

Forget it. I was leaving anyway. What was the point of holding on to any of this.

I said nothing, showered, went back to the bedroom, and lay down, which left Luther angry enough to slam the door shut.

Nothing more was said all night.

The next morning he set out bowls and chopsticks for me and called me over to eat.

He pushed a bowl of steaming grits and a plate of shrimp dumplings in front of me and said with a smile, "Rose put this together for you. She saw you were upset, so she already moved out this morning, and she made a point of getting up early to buy breakfast and had me bring it back as an apology. The dumplings and the grits are still hot, go on and eat."

I looked at the red oil and shrimp floating over the curds, and for a long moment I didn't pick up my chopsticks.

There was anger in Luther's eyes.

"Joyce, that's enough."

"She went out of her way to buy you breakfast, and not only are you ungrateful, you're sitting there sulking! Do you really have to be this petty?"

"You've really let me down."

I waited until he had said his piece, then looked at him flatly.

"You've forgotten. I have a serious stomach condition. I can't eat any seafood or anything heavy anymore."

Something like surprise and guilt flickered through Luther's eyes.

Maybe he had finally registered his own mistake, and the promise he'd made me back then.

He lowered his head and apologized. "I'm sorry, Joyce. I won't forget again"

"There won't be an again." My voice stayed level.

"What?"

Luther didn't understand and wanted to press further, but just then his phone rang.

And with that, whatever question was on his mind no longer mattered. He scrambled to answer.

He was close enough that I heard Rose's panicked, sobbing voice clearly.

"Luther, this hotel has cockroaches too. I just saw several of them crawling on the sink, and if they bite me I'll go into allergic shock again, I'm so scared. Can you come and stay with me?"

At that, Luther's grip tightened hard around the phone.

"Don't be scared. I'll move you to another hotel. I'm coming over right now."

After he hung up, he explained to me, grave and earnest, "Joyce, Rose really is in danger right now. She's been allergic to cockroaches her whole life, otherwise she wouldn't have moved out earlier. And I swear, I really do treat Rose as nothing more than a little sister. Stop making a scene over her."

He didn't wait for an answer. He was already striding to the door.

His coat swept the breakfast off the table, and most of it spilled onto the floor.

I looked at the shut door and let the corner of my mouth curve.

Every time before, whenever he and Rose crossed a line, I couldn't help getting jealous and upset, and every time he said I was petty and unreasonable.

But Luther, don't worry. From now on, I'll never make a scene over you again.

Just as Luther turned and left, a message came in from the captain.

He'd booked me a flight out of the country.

The date fell exactly seven days out, on the tenth year since Luther and I had met.

The anniversary countdown in the living room had become the countdown to my leaving.

"Joyce, I looked everywhere for you. So this is where you were hiding?"

Luther still looked shaken.

He couldn't find me, and it had thrown him into a panic.

Something like this had happened before.

Once, my phone died and Luther couldn't reach me. He went half out of his mind, putting up a huge reward and sending people all over the city to look for me.

Back then, I'd been secretly thrilled about it for a whole month.

Now all I felt inside was numbness.

Looking at that anxious face of his, I turned away without thinking.

He hooked his arm through mine and smiled.

"Did you forget what day it is today?"

I looked at him, puzzled.

Luther touched my forehead, a little curious.

"You. You don't even remember your own birthday?"

If he hadn't said it, I'd have forgotten I had a birthday at all.

The scent on him, something like heather blossom, sent my stomach churning.

I shifted my feet and eased him away without a word.

"Sorry. I made you worry."

He didn't notice anything off about me and just smiled.

"We've been together too long for you to be this polite. Come on, let's go cut the cake together."

Halfway back to the party, as he pulled me along, my phone buzzed.

"Do you know why this hotel tower is named 'Rosalind'? Because Luther bought the whole thing ages ago as my birthday present."

"I hear today's your birthday too, big sister? I've got a big surprise waiting for you."

Two messages from Rose, one after the other, plus a lewd video.

This wasn't the first time she'd sent me things like this, and I doubted it would be the last.

I skimmed them fast, then killed the screen.

Walking behind Luther, I noticed him suddenly go still, eyes fixed on his phone.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"No... it's nothing..."

Right when everyone was waiting for me to blow out the candles, out of the corner of my eye I caught Luther looking distracted.

There was something strange in his face.

"Joyce, wait for me a second. I'm going... to the restroom."

He didn't wait for my answer. Luther hurried off.

Five minutes later he came back to his spot, looking perfectly normal.

"Sorry, something urgent came up. Go ahead and make your wish."

He apologized, but he didn't dare meet my eyes.

I nodded, closed my eyes for a moment, then blew out the candles.

The smile went back up on Luther's face.

"Joyce, what did you wish for just now?"

I smiled, giving nothing away.

"If I tell, it won't come true."

He had no idea my biggest wish was to leave him forever.

In front of everyone, Luther kissed me on the cheek, then took a small ornate box from an assistant.

"Look, see what I got you?"

"I had this watch custom-made for you by a world-famous master watchmaker. It took a whole year."

The moment I saw what was inside the box, the last shred of illusion in me shattered.

Luther saw the cold look in my eyes and felt a flicker of unease.

"What is it? You don't like the present I got you?"

I forced a smile.

"I like it. Why wouldn't I?"

Now I finally understood the "surprise" Rose had mentioned in her message.

Inside the box, besides the watch, were the stockings Rose had just shown me in the video, and... a used condom.

The surprise was too big. It caught me off guard.

Back in the room, resting, I got another taunting message from Rose.

"Well? Happy with the surprise I set up for you?"

"You'll never imagine what a man who swears he loves you to the bone is like on the other side. From now on, every private meeting I have with him, I'll share it with you."

"Joyce Dickerson, you're a total failure. The one Luther really loves is me!"

I turned off the screen.

I stared at my reflection in it for a long time, saying nothing, letting the tears in my eyes run freely.

Luther, who had vanished for a while, suddenly came into the room, and the sight of my red-rimmed eyes scared him into rushing over to hold me.

"What's wrong, Joyce? Are your eyes bothering you again?"

His concern didn't look faked.

I looked at this man in front of me, so familiar and so strange, nothing like the one flushed with lust in that video.

The color that hadn't fully faded from his face, the kiss marks half-hidden at his collar, all of it told me his disappearance just now had clearly been to go find Rose.

I honestly couldn't imagine how he could come off a scene of passion and then show up in front of someone else, unflushed, heart steady, calmly caring like nothing had happened.

Wave after wave of exhaustion washed over me. I rubbed the tight space between my brows.

"It's nothing. I'll be fine after some rest."

...

That night, a rare shower of shooting stars crossed the sky.

Luther, delighted as a child, dragged me up to the rooftop.

He made his wish to the falling stars:

"I, Luther Sanchez, love Joyce Dickerson most in this life! In this life and this world, may I grow old with her!"

"Tomorrow we're going to pick out the wedding gown. Are you excited, Joyce? Nervous?"

I looked at how earnest his face was, and my heart filled with nothing but pain.

His love for me was beyond doubt.

But his betrayal was a thorn buried in my heart, bleeding.

The love between us was more like the shooting star crossing the sky right now.

So dazzling.

And so brief.

After we left the hotel, we got in the car and headed for the bridal boutique.

The whole way, Luther held my hand tight.

Every time I quietly slipped free of his grip, the next second he only gripped harder, as if terrified I might leave him.

He could tell I wasn't in the mood, so he kept telling jokes to cheer me up.

He was never a man who smiled easily, yet for my sake he'd search online for jokes and one-liners, and tell them to me all the time.

Back then, even when they weren't funny, I'd force myself to laugh.

He could have been a good husband.

By day the company kept him busy, but he was always home by eight in the evening.

He ate dinner with me, listened to music with me.

In those first years of ours, he built a habit.

Every night before sleep, he read to me.

When it was time for bed, he'd first bring me a glass of warm milk, then sit at the edge of the bed and read to me, never once impatient.

It hurt me to see him do it, and I told him one of those reading apps could do the same thing now.

But he said it wasn't the same.

He smiled and said he wanted to be my eyes, that reading was just a small thing. Later he'd take me all over the world, so I could take in the beauty of every place.

Remembering all that, with those stiff jokes in my ear, I couldn't take in a single word. My head was a tangled mess.

The driver watched us in the rearview mirror, his face warm with a satisfied smile.

"Mr. Sanchez, twenty years and you two still love each other like the first day. That's a rare thing. Oh, right, that ring you had me pick up, I've already got it for you. It's in the compartment in the back seat."

Luther tensed for no clear reason.

"You didn't take the wrong one?"

The driver was sure.

"No. The name on the receipt was yours."

Only then did Luther relax and take a red brocade box out of the compartment.

"Joyce, this is the ring I had custom-made just for you. In a few days at our wedding, I want to put it on your finger myself. Take a look first, see if it fits?"

"I spent half a year designing this ring myself. Scrapped dozens of versions before I settled on it. It's the proof of how deep our love runs. It means everything."

His excited words, the happiness spilling out of him, made all of it feel unreal to me.

I had no interest in it, but Luther was staring at me, so full of hope that I opened the box the way you'd resign yourself to something.

But when I saw the engraving on the ring clearly, my heart clenched all at once.

That line of small print stabbed at my eyes like one sharp needle after another.

Sanchez & Pruitt, love of a lifetime

My fingertips trembled as I cradled the ring in my palm. It was heavy, heavy like the heart I'd already let sink too far.

"What's wrong?"

Seeing me stare blankly at the ring, Luther grew tense for no reason.

I shook my head and slid the ring on. In the end it wouldn't go.

"It seems a little tight."

"How could that be?" Half doubting, Luther took the ring from my hand and looked at it.

In that instant, his eyes filled with panic.

He stole a glance at my face, and seeing me calm, he let out a relieved breath at his own luck.

"Itit must be the designer got the size wrong. I'll have them redo it. There's still time."

I nodded and turned to look at the scenery out the window.

Luther studied me without letting it show, an odd irritation prickling at him, though he couldn't say what was off.

The car went horribly quiet all at once, and even the driver grew tense, glancing at me and Luther now and then in the rearview mirror.

But it didn't last long. A buzzing phone broke it.

Luther's phone and mine got a message at the same time.

Each of us with our own thoughts, we glanced at our screens, then quickly shut them off.

Rose had posted a photo, and that was how I learned the ring that should have been mine was with him.

The style of the ring was exactly like the one I'd just seen.

"So sorry, but your ring has already gone in the trash. My ring and Luther's are the one and only pair from now on."

Rose was trying to needle me again, but I wasn't the least bit angry. If anything, I should thank her.

Otherwise, saddled with a ring identical to someone else's, I wouldn't have known what to do with it.

Love isn't a copy. It can't be split in two.