After He Watched Meteors With My Sister, I Dumped My Time-Obsessed Boyfriend

Day three hundred and seven of chasing my doctor boyfriend, Tim Simmons, was the day he gave me a watch.

My work keeps me busy. I don't have time to wait around. If you can live with that, we can give it a try.

I said yes, over the moon. What I didn't expect was that his sense of time ran so strict that if I was one minute late to an anniversary, he'd cancel the date on the spot.

If a meal ran more than five minutes past, he wouldn't wait for me either.

For years, every place we dated had to be within a ten-minute trip of home and the hospital.

I told myself he was a man devoted to something bigger, and I never complained, never let myself feel wronged.

Until the storm, when I slipped and fell and was fifteen seconds past the time he'd agreed to pick me up.

He hit the gas and drove off, leaving me chasing after him until a streetcar clipped me.

That night, I ended up at the hospital, battered and a mess.

And then my cousin's video came up in my feed.

A once-in-a-century meteor shower. An hour late, sure, but at least I had company.

And in the frame was Tim Simmons, who was supposed to be pulling overtime in his department, sitting up on a hilltop watching the stars fall with her.

On his wrist, the same couple's watch as mine.

All at once it felt pointless.

So it wasn't that he wouldn't wait. It was just that the person he was waiting for wasn't me.

If that was how it was, then my time shouldn't go into a relationship that gave nothing back either.

1.

I turned off my phone and looked out the window, where two familiar figures were walking through the courtyard.

Sophie Gilbert chattered and circled Tim, laughing. He said little, but his expression held a tenderness I'd never seen on him.

Most of the time, he was just telling me, worn thin, to keep it down.

The two of them walked into the lobby, where the doctors and nurses at the station were huddled over a phone, gossiping about Sophie's post.

"Dr. Simmons really doesn't care at all, does he? His girlfriend's admitted here and he's off watching a meteor shower with the little cousin."

"You know, I told Adela Swanson before, her cousin's got a scheming heart, told her to watch out. And here we are."

Before they could finish, Tim rapped his knuckles on the desk.

"Done with your work already, standing around wagging your tongues?"

Several heads came up, and they scattered.

Sophie tugged at his sleeve. "Let it go, don't blame them. It's my fault for not checking on how my cousin was doing."

Tim swept his eyes over them.

"Slacking off on the clock, neglecting your duties. Five points off each of your evaluations. I'll be speaking with your head nurse."

His words were salt in an open wound.

Back then, there'd been an intern who liked him. After he turned her down, she spread rumors about me. I was upset and asked him to write what she'd done into her final evaluation, but he said he was her supervisor, that he only judged professional ability, that the innocent had nothing to fear, and I shouldn't read too much into it.

So it turned out he could shield someone after all.

As I lowered my eyes, he walked into my room, and Sophie, behind him, saw me and her eyes went red.

"Sis, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were hurt. If I'd known, I never would've had Tim take me somewhere that far to see the meteors."

Before I could open my mouth,

Tim gently helped her up straight.

"It's got nothing to do with you. We'd planned to watch the meteors a long time ago."

Something in my chest went tight and bitter. They'd planned it, and I hadn't known a thing.

And every year on our anniversary, I'd remind him half a month ahead that we had a date, and by the day itself he'd still forget.

As if he'd read what I was thinking, Tim's voice went flat.

"It's not that I left you out on purpose. You don't like traveling that far, you're not into meteors and all that, and the mosquitoes up on the mountain are bad. You wouldn't have lasted up there anyway."

The old me would probably have decided long ago that he just didn't say it out loud, that in his actions he understood me and cared about me deeply.

Was it that I didn't like it?

Half a year ago there was a spot only fifteen kilometers from them, and I said I wanted to go watch the meteors and make a wish.

Tim called it superstitious nonsense, said it was a twenty-minute drive, over the time limit for how far a date could be, and I'd be better off reading a few more books, going through a few more case studies. More worthwhile, he said.

Seeing me stay quiet, he cleared his throat.

"She's had a long day and she's worn out. I'm taking her home. Next time, say something sooner if anything's wrong."

It took me a long while to catch what he meant.

But was it really that I hadn't said anything?

One glance at his phone and he'd have known that the second after I was hit, I sent him a message.

The time he gave me was always this little.

The next day, after my dressing was changed, Tim brought me home.

We'd barely walked in when my mother called, her voice frantic.

"Was that Sophie in the photo? What happened? Didn't I tell you to look after her?"

I froze, and just as I was about to speak, Tim came over.

"No, Auntie, it was Adela, not Sophie."

My mother let out a breath.

"How's everything going? Sophie hasn't been any trouble, has she?"

I looked around at the apartment, at Sophie's traces everywhere, and didn't know what to say.

Tim smiled.

"She's been good. No trouble at all."

Hearing his voice, Sophie came bounding over in the same women's couple's pajamas as mine.

"Auntie, I've been so well-behaved!"

The two of them took the phone and sat at the other end of the couch to talk, as if I weren't there at all.

And with just a few words, they had my mother laughing, no longer caring in the slightest that the one who'd gotten hurt was her own daughter.

By the time I finished washing up and came out, their call had ended.

Tim handed me the phone.

"Auntie says there's no rush on Sophie finding work. She'll stay here for now, and you should look after her more when you can."

I looked down at my leg, at the crutch, and found it almost funny.

He glanced at it too.

"It's nothing serious. I asked. Just a pulled ligament and some scrapes. Rest well."

The next second, Sophie, in the middle of drying her hair, cried out.

"Ow, that hurts!"

Tim spun around and went straight to her, dropping the hair dryer to the floor.

There was a crack, and the casing broke.

That was the dryer he'd bought me once, after I happened to mention my hair felt dry. He'd looked it up, asked his coworkers, picked it out for me. I'd always treasured it.

"Careful."

Then he pulled a stack of medical supplies out of the cabinet, disinfectant, burn ointment, and dabbed it onto her hand bit by bit, worry and tenderness spilling out of his eyes.

Sophie shrank back.

"It's fine, it was only for a second."

He blew on it gently.

"Even a second can burn you. Be more careful. Next time I'll dry it for you."

Tim gathered everything up and tossed the broken dryer into the trash.

There was a thud, as if it were my heart that had been thrown away.

My phone lit up. I opened it. A message from my mother.

You should learn from your sister, be more cheerful, stop moping around all day. Men don't like that.

Something in my chest went bitter.

Ever since my aunt died, my mother had taken my cousin into our home.

I was no longer her most beloved daughter. Every time I felt jealous, she'd say you're the older one, she'd say your aunt is gone, you have to feel for your sister.

So everything of mine had to be shared with her.

Her personality was easy, and it made the steadiness I'd had since childhood look withdrawn and difficult instead.

Everyone started comparing us.

Little by little, my mother came to feel that I wasn't as likable as my sister.

When I finally won Tim over, she was happy for exactly one second before saying, if only your sister could find someone like this.

Half a year ago, she sent my sister here to look for work, gave her living money every month, mailed her treats. And for me, all she had was, you earn your own money now, take care of yourself.

My eyes stung. I turned off the phone and went back to the bedroom.

In the early hours, I woke up in pain, my throat parched.

"I want some water..."

My hand groped across the bed for a long moment and never found Tim. I switched on the lamp. The space beside me had long gone cold.

I climbed slowly out of bed and opened the door.

Sophie's bedroom door was open, the light on.

Tim stood by her bed, letting her lean into him, gently stroking her hair.

"Don't be scared. It was only a nightmare. I'll sleep on the floor and stay with you."

Fighting through the pain, I made it to the water dispenser, not noticing the water on the floor.

The crutch slipped, and I went down with a thud.

After a while, footsteps came from the hall. He walked toward me and held out his hand.

"Keep it down, she just fell asleep."

Sophie's soft crying drifted from the bedroom.

"Tim... I'm scared."

In an instant, he let go of my hand and hurried off.

"Your leg's bad, so stop moving around. Just go rest."

My hand hung frozen in the air.

In that moment, I suddenly felt how pointless it all was.

A man with no room in his eyes for me. I didn't want to love anymore.

After three days resting at home, I went back to work.

Once the morning meeting wrapped up, my boss called me into his office. Headquarters had opened up a three-year overseas exchange posting, he said. Go for three years, and I'd come back straight into leadership.

He wanted to know if I was interested. My track record put me among the best in the company, after all.

The old me would have turned it down without a second thought.

After all, Tim and I were about to get engaged.

But now, looking at that application form, I hesitated.

"Let me think it over. I'll give you an answer within two days."

When I came out of the office, I saw the message Sophie had sent half an hour earlier.

Adela, the bridal shop called. Your custom gown is ready. Do you want to go try it on?

It was right around noon, so I took a cab over to the bridal salon.

I'd just gotten there when another message came in.

I forgot, you're at work and your leg's still bad. I'll just try it on for you.

By the time I finished reading it, I looked up and saw her stepping out of the fitting room in the gown.

At one end of the sofa, a man in black leather shoes stood up.

Tim, in a suit, stood beside her, reaching out to smooth her train.

The man I'd once begged for just ten minutes to get measured, who always refused because he was too busy with work, was here after all.

He'd told me before that the bridal shop was too far, that from now on I should handle these things myself and he'd just pay for it.

So it turned out he had the time all along.

The two of them, so perfectly matched, pricked at my chest like a needle.

That gown Sophie was wearing was one I'd started designing last year, working out every detail little by little. To keep myself in the best shape for it, I'd held to the exact measurements I'd given back then.

Yet on her small frame, the gown looked even more right than it had in the pictures.

I stood where I was and called the bridal shop.

The woman on the other end stammered.

"It's like this, Miss Swanson. Over half a month ago, your fianc"

Before she could finish, Tim's voice came through the phone.

"I'm the one who called and had them alter it. Her aunt said her mother's memorial day is coming up, so I thought I'd let her wear a wedding gown once, so her mother could see her in it that day."

Something inside gave a lurch, as if it had cracked.

The first time my gown was worn, it wasn't by me. It was by my cousin.

And not for a wedding, but to be worn to a cemetery.

My mother, who wanted me to be happy, knew. Tim, who'd promised to try to be a good boyfriend, knew.

I was the only one kept in the dark.

The phone felt as heavy as lead, and my hand sank down under the weight of it.

"I understand. You're busy. I won't come in."

Maybe our voices overlapped, because Tim turned and saw me standing in the doorway.

His mouth opened. He was about to say something.

Sophie came running out in the gown.

"Adela, you're herewhy didn't you come in? Are you angry? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put on your gown without asking. I'll take it off right now so you can try it."

I shook my head, meaning to say it was nothing.

But her eyes went red.

"If you think it's dirty now, I'll take it to be dry-cleaned right away, and I promise I'll never touch it again! Please don't be angry with me, okay?"

At that, Tim frowned and pulled her behind him, shielding her.

"She was only trying it on. It's not like she's actually taking it from you. Why give her that look? I arranged this with your aunt. It has nothing to do with her."

"She has no father, no mother, and she still has to live watching your mood. Is this any way to treat her, as her older cousin? How do you face your aunt like this?"

My chest clenched all at once.

I hadn't said a single thing. I was the one who'd been managed and ignored.

Sophie was sobbing so hard she couldn't catch her breath, tears streaming, choking on them, barely able to stand.

The sleeves and neckline of the gown were smeared with tears and sweat and makeup, in great streaks of black and red.

Tim turned back and steadied her, aching for her.

"All right, all right. Cry any more and you'll dehydrate."

He turned her around to leave, and Sophie stepped on the train and nearly fell.

So he tore off the trailing veil I loved most, ripping it away as cleanly and forcefully as pulling off a strip of gauze.

He glanced back at me.

"This part's too much trouble. Let's just switch to something simpler."

I tipped my head back to force the tears down, and quietly turned away.

Back at the company, I signed my name at the bottom of the application form.

Coming home from work that evening, I heard laughter from inside the apartment.

I pushed the door open. My mother, who hadn't come to see me in years, sat on the sofa flipping through a stack of photos, smiling to herself, pleased.

When she saw me, the smile cooled.

"So you do come home. The second I'm not around, you bully your sister. She nearly cried herself sick this afternoon. Good thing Tim was here."

So she'd come all this way just to back Sophie up.

In the old days, whenever work wore me down and I told him I missed him, he always said, hang in there, your sister's at home, I can't get away.

Sophie tugged at my mother's sleeve.

"Auntie, my sister didn't mean it."

She sighed.

"You. You're just too kind for your own good."

Then she held the photos out to me.

"Here. Don't say I don't care about you. Your sister won't have to wear the wedding gown to the cemetery after all. We took pictures instead, and we'll burn them for your late aunt when the time comes."

Beautifully done portraits. Besides a few solo shots of Sophie, there were photos of just her and Tim, and two of the three of them together.

They looked so at ease with each other.

On our old anniversaries, forget portraits, when I wanted a single couple's photo from a date, Tim said finding the right angle was a waste of time. To this day my phone holds only a few blurry shots of us.

The kitchen door swung open and Tim came out carrying dishes.

"Dinner's ready."

A whole table of the heavy, spicy food Sophie liked. Just the smell of it set the wound that hadn't healed aching again.

He saw me standing there and pointed at the pot.

"I stewed a pot roast for you. Have some in a bit, to build your strength back."

He walked over and lifted the lid, then went still.

He'd forgotten to turn on the burner. The meat inside was still raw.

My mother waved a hand.

"It's fine, she can just eat whatever's around. Didn't I make dumplings and mail them over? Boil some of those."

I drew a slow breath.

"No need. I've already eaten."

Then I went back to the bedroom and started packing.

After dinner, Sophie came running in.

"Sis, are you coming with us too?"

I paused.

She smacked her own forehead.

"I forgot to tell you. Auntie wants us to go back and stay a few days. It happens to be my mom's death anniversary."

I looked at Tim, who had come out wheeling a suitcase.

"You have the time?"

His face went awkward.

"I took vacation days."

Once, on my own time off, I'd wanted to go somewhere and asked him to take leave and come with me. He said no. He said he was saving those days for our wedding.

I laughed, calm.

"Fine. You go."

My mother came over.

"He's going, so you're going too. When you're back you'll apologize properly to your late aunt, and you'll promise never to bully your sister again."

I nodded.

Going back once was fine. After all, I was leaving the day after tomorrow.

Early the next morning the car we'd arranged pulled up downstairs, and only then did we find there were just three seats.

Sophie spoke up timidly.

"Sorry. When I booked it, Sis hadn't said she was coming, so I only put down three people."

My mother paused.

Tim said flatly, "It's fine. She knows the way, she can just book her own car. We'll see her back at the house."

My mother had no objection.

Even though I'd sensed it coming, being actually left behind still put an ache through my chest.

He glanced at me.

"Send me the plate number and your location once you're in the car. I'll come pick you up."

I said nothing and watched them go.

Just as well. Some goodbyes were never meant to be made with any fanfare.

Back inside, I spent a day erasing every trace of myself from that home.

I spent a day handing off the last of my work.

Before I left, I deleted my fingerprint from the lock and set the watch he'd given me on the entryway shelf.

As I was boarding, I saw the three of them together in a photo my mother had posted, and relatives who didn't know any better all said the two of them made a fine match.

She replied with a smiley sticker and said nothing else.

I knew what she meant.

After I tapped like, a message came in from Tim.

Your aunt's finger slipped and she posted the wrong one. I've already had her change it. When are you setting out?

I replied.

Right now.

He wrote back.

Tell me when you arrive, I'll pick you up. Try to be quick, don't make me wait too long.

I didn't reply. I blocked him, deleted him, and swapped in a new SIM card.

No. There'd be no more waiting, ever.

The future I was going to was one without you.