Fate Rolls Dark by Mark Twain 7
7 Chapter 7
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7 Chapter 7
He launched into a monologue about how no one else would ever put up with me, how I was lucky to have him. I held the phone away from my ear.
Then, faintly in the background, I heard it. Chloe’s voice, bright and fake-surprised. “Ethan! Surprise, baby! I found you!”
I knew what would happen next. He’d choose her. He’d forget me. He always did.
So this time, I chose first. I ended the call. I
blocked the new number.
I pulled up the photos my mom had sent of Gus. My goofy, loving dog, rolling in the grass,
perfectly healthy. I sent my parents a huge “just because” Venmo and texted them I’d be home for
a visit soon.
Their joyful reply, a string of heart emojis and a promise to make my favorite apple pie, filled my
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own heart. *This* was love. Unconditional. Easy.
I was meeting an old college friend, Rachel, for dinner. When I arrived at the upscale waterfront restaurant she’d picked, she was practically vibrating with excitement at the host stand.
“Lauren! Over here!” She pulled me to a table. It was then I noticed the place was eerily empty. And Rachel was wearing a dress suspiciously
close to bridesmaid material.
The lights dimmed. A string quartet I hadn’t noticed began to play. A path of LED candles
flickered to life.
And Ethan emerged from the kitchen, pushing a cart with a towering arrangement of red roses.
My body moved before my mind caught up. I shoved my chair back, ready to bolt.
He was in front of me in an instant. He looked…
nervous. Determined. He got down on one knee.
“Lauren, I know I’ve been distracted. I know I’ve
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hurt you. I promise, from now on—”
I didn’t let him finish. I swatted the massive
bouquet out of his hands. Roses scattered across the floor. I stumbled back, covering my nose and mouth, a violent sneeze tearing through me.
“For God’s sake, Ethan! I’m *allergic* to roses! Deathly allergic! Have you *ever* listened to
me?!”
His face paled. He scrambled to kick the flowers away. “I… I’m sorry. I forgot.”
He hadn’t forgotten. He’d never known. In five years, he’d never bought me flowers. I’d assumed it was because he knew about my allergy. Turns out, he’d just never cared enough to think about
He tried to speak again, but I held up a hand. “There is nothing left to say.”
“I saved your life,” he hissed, the mask of romance slipping. He lunged forward, grabbing
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my wrist, his grip tight. “Your life is *mine*. You don’t get to walk away. Not without my permission.”
I stopped struggling. I looked him dead in the eye, my gaze steady and cold. “You used that to let her humiliate me for five years. That debt is paid.”
He flinched, his grip loosening. “It wasn’t like that. Chloe is fragile, she needs-”
“Not my problem,” I said, yanking my arm free. I
turned and walked toward the exit.
Behind me, I heard the crash of the dessert cart. Then his footsteps, frantic, chasing me.
He caught me on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, breathless. He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Inside, a diamond solitaire glinted under the streetlight.
“I’m sorry,” he panted. “For last year. For not doing this right.”
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He looked at me, expecting joy, tears,
forgiveness.
All he saw was weary disgust.
A year ago, his “proposal” had been a grumbled “I guess we should get married then” as he fell
asleep watching TV. No ring. No question. Just a
statement.
Now he was offering the show. But the audience
had left the theater.
“Ethan,” I said quietly. “That’s a size five. I’m a seven. That’s Chloe’s ring. You’ve been carrying around a ring for her.”
He shook his head violently. “No, it’s for you, just try it-” He grabbed my left hand, trying to force the ring on. The metal bit into my knuckle.
I cried out, snatching my hand back. Before he could react, I plucked the ring from the box and threw it in a high arc over the railing behind him. A tiny *plink* sounded as it hit the dark water of
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the Puget Sound.
He stared, dumbfounded. “You… you…”
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8 Chapter 8
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8 Chapter 8
“I what, Ethan?” My patience snapped. “I’m not playing your games anymore.”@
His face contorted with rage. “You ungrateful bitch! I’ve put up with your shit for years! You could never be half the woman Chloe is! Sweet, gentle, *feminine*. You’re just a cold,
sharp-edged bore. You think you’re in her league? You’re not even on the same planet!”
He grabbed my arm again, dragging me toward the railing. “You’re going to get it back. This is your last chance. Get the ring, and I’ll forget this ever happened. We’ll get married next month.”
As he tried to push me toward the water, instinct took over. I drove my knee hard into his thigh. As he buckled with a grunt, I fisted my hand in his perfectly styled hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look at me.
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