He'd once beaten the boys who teased me for being an orphan, leaving himself battered and bruised but grinning as he performed silly magic tricks to cheer me up. He would sing to me during every thunderstorm. Even though he sang off-key and badly, he never stopped.
He would flick my forehead and call me an idiot whenever I had a silly idea, then turn around and act like an idiot himself, trying to make it happen. He never had any of the usual socialite girls around him. He said he didn't want to make me feel insecure.
I didn't want to wait any longer. So, I put on a white dress and mustered all my courage to propose. "Keith, I want to marry you!"
He looked at me. His calm eyes held a storm I couldn't decipher and all I could do was wait, trembling with uncertainty.
His phone rang and he patted my shoulder apologetically. "Zoey, there's an urgent matter at the company. I have to go back!"
Just like that, Keith left me alone at the birthday party. I wasn't a naive girl anymore—I could clearly sense the mockery, schadenfreude and pity in the eyes of others.