I placed my key under the stone by the doorstep, even snapping a picture of it for her. There was no response, no reaction. Naomi was probably by Ben’s side, doting on him, caring for him, dreaming about their future together. She’d made her choice, and I had to live with mine.
I met Naomi at a gala event years ago. She was there to perform on the piano, and I was drawn in the moment she took the stage. Her elegance, her confidence—it was all I could see. For two years, I did everything to win her over, but she stayed distant, always holding back. Just when I was about to give up, she showed up at my hotel room one rainy night, soaked through, her face pale.
“Do you still want to marry me?” she asked. “Because if you do, I’m ready.”
I had barely been able to contain my happiness. For her, I gave up a life of luxury, broke off a perfectly matched engagement, even cut ties with my family, determined to build a life from scratch. I wanted to give her everything, but she’d never known who I really was. I thought it would make things easier if she loved me for me.