Chapter 2

2.

At 11 PM, Merrick's call finally came through.

The background noise was deafening, and he sounded overly excited. "Maren, don't wait up for me tonight."

I stayed silent. Sensing my mood, he added a defensive lie. "The guys know I'm getting married soon. They're throwing me a bachelor party."

I had heard that line before.

He had used the exact same excuse seven times since our friend's wedding ended.

In other words, he had used the "bachelor party" excuse to stay out for an entire week.

Through the speaker, the roar of the music and the shouting of the crowd shattered the quiet of my room.

When I didn't respond, Merrick called out again. "Babe? What's wrong? Are you mad?"

His tone was cautious, testing the waters.

He waited for me to speak. I looked down at the watch on my wrist.

Suddenly, the words slipped out. "It's 11 PM."

An outsider wouldn't understand the weight of those words.

But it was our private code.

I knew it. And he knew it too.

It was a rule he had set back when we were deeply in love.

He had just started his career, while I was climbing the corporate ladder, often staying out late for business dinners.

One night, I came home near midnight to find him curled up on the sofa like a lonely kitten.

He ran to me, still half-asleep, and looked at me with puppy eyes.

"Maren, can't you be home before eleven?"

We hadn't been together long then.

He used to be so vibrant and cheerful.

But my late nights had made him insecure and sensitive.

I looked into his watery eyes and saw a bit of cake frosting on his lip.

It had been his birthday, and I couldn't bring myself to say no.

So, I promised him.

"Starting in two weeks, I'll be home."

During that time, he would call me boldly. "Maren, it's eleven. Time to come home."

He sounded like a strict but adorable little manager.

Later, whenever he said, "It's 11 PM," I would instinctively reply, "Time to go home."

It was our unspoken game.

But because it was so ingrained in us, I suddenly realized I didn't know when the game had stopped.

When did he stop caring?

I started to wonder.

Was it when he got promoted?

Was it during his frequent business trips?

Or maybe even longer ago than that.

He hadn't said those words in a long time.

It was as if he was certain I would always be there, waiting like a loyal dog.

But he forgot one thing.

That rule was a privilege I had granted him because I was soft-hearted.

I could take it back whenever I wanted.

Merrick went silent. He obviously remembered the meaning.

Then, a woman's voice drifted through the phone. "Merrick, come on! Everyone's waiting!"

It was Yara.

She sounded like she was moving closer. She let out a scoff.

"You're not even married yet, and she's already tracking your every move? You'll be bored to death after the wedding."

Merrick didn't defend me. Yara nudged him again. "Hurry up! It's Truth or Dare, and it's your turn!"

Merrick finally spoke to me again, his voice softening into a whimper. "Babe… please?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, pushing back the memories.

"You don't ever have to come back."

Merrick sounded shocked, but then he started complaining. "Babe, this is my last bachelor night!"

He was blaming me. He was annoyed that I was "forcing" him.

Anyone who knew us knew how much I had spoiled him over the last three years. I would have given him the moon if he asked.

A week ago, at a friend's wedding, the bride had teased me about our date.

"I'm in no rush. Let's wait," I had said.

"In six months," Merrick had countered.

We had spoken at the same time.

Merrick had looked at me with such blatant reluctance that the atmosphere in the room turned awkward.