Our eyes met—his red with panic, and at that moment, he knew he was caught.
He nervously touched his nose and muttered under his breath.
"Seeing things?"
"Eric, look what she did to the dress you got me!" The girl clung to his arm, sitting close.
"Forget it, it's just a dress."
He dismissed it carelessly.
But Mandy wasn't having it, insisting I pay for the damage.
"But it was a gift from you..."
Eric, annoyed, gestured dismissively again. "I'll just buy you another one," which finally silenced her.
My heart ached—yeah, just a dress.
A dress that could have bought a condo in Covelle, instead of us cramming into that tiny 320-square-foot rental for years.
No more rushing to find a new place whenever the landlord decided to sell or raise the rent, scattering like lost souls across the city.
Last year, when the rent spiked, he was away, and I scrimped to save a grand a month, moving in a downpour while sick with a fever.
I kept it to myself to spare him the worry, and when he returned, he just wrapped me in his arms, guilt-ridden, murmuring, "Honey, you've worked so hard."
At that moment, I believed our hearts were enough to carry us through.