Returning Home to Get Married

After Alex and I broke up, we slid back into being best friends.
He rarely contacted me, but hed call me in the dead of night after every new breakup, asking me to drink with him while he drowned his sorrows.
We were tangled up like this for years. Hed amassed enough ex-girlfriends to fill a deck of cardsand I mean the whole deck, not just a hand of poker.
After watching Alex flirt, fall head over heels, give the cold shoulder, and then break up with a revolving door of women, my heart had finally flatlined.
So, in my 28th year, I handed in my resignation.
The reason? I was moving back home to get married.
1
Two in the morning, and my phone lit up with Alexs name again.
"Same place. I need you."
I shuffled into the dive bar downstairs, still in my thickest flannel pajamas. Alex was already surrounded by a graveyard of empty beer bottles.
Even with a look of utter dejection on his face, he was still drawing the subtle, appreciative glances of every woman in the room.
One was about to make her move, but when she saw me slide into the booth across from him, she sighed in disappointment and turned back to her drink.
"Tell me, whats wrong with me? Why do they all break up with me?" Alex demanded.
I shrugged, my voice flat. "Cant help you there. You're the one who broke up with me, remember?"
He gave a sheepish grin. "I just thought we were better as friends."
Alex was blessed with a face that could stop traffic and was generous enough with his money. Most women found that combination irresistible.
But whether it was two weeks or six months, it always ended the same way: a breakup.
The reason was simple.
Strip away the superficial charm, and Alex was a mess of personality flaws.
He had no sense of boundaries, offered almost zero emotional support to his girlfriends, and ran hot and cold like a broken faucet.
He was easy to fall for, but impossible to stay with.
He also had a flair for the dramatic. When a relationship ended, he loved to pour his heart out to his friends, but he would never, ever beg an ex to come back.
Some of them were probably just testing him, threatening to leave to see his reaction. They never expected him to just let them go.
So, in the end, they all became bitter exes.
I was the exception. Not just because I was the only one hed ever initiated a breakup with.
But also because I was a chronic people-pleaser.
I might turn down a friends invitation to a party, but I could never refuse a friend in pain. I was a natural-born emotional dumpster.
And Alex knew it.
He said we just broke up. We weren't lovers anymore, but we were still friends.
This "friend" never spoke to me in his day-to-day life.
But the second a romance imploded, my phone would ring in the dead of night.
And Id show up at the bar downstairs, hair a mess, still in my pajamas.
Id drink with him, pay the tab, and then take him home.
Was Alex a player?
Obviously.
But God, he was beautiful.
So even knowing he was trouble, women lined up to get a taste.
I was just one of them, an unremarkable one at that. And sometimes, Id feel a secret, shameful flicker of pride.
Pride in being special.
Why else would he call me, out of all his exes, for comfort?
Of course, I knew that was just a pathetic way to make myself feel better.
The real reason Alex clung to me was because my self-respect was cheap. I never said no.
But it didn't matter. There wouldnt be any more chances for that.
2
Alex was a good drunk.
Sober, he was the life of the party, all flash and swagger.
Drunk, he became quiet, almost silent.
His reactions were slow, but he was docile. Hed do whatever you told him.
I got him home, pulled off his shirt and socks, and tucked him into bed.
Alex stared up at me, his beautiful eyes wide and unfocused.
"Go to sleep," I said softly, patting his chest.
He closed his eyes and drifted off.
I spent the night on his sofa. The next morning, I was in the kitchen making him some broth.
The door to the spare bedroom creaked open and Alexs roommate, Leo, shuffled out, yawning.
He looked surprised to see me, then his expression softened with understanding. "Here taking care of Alex again?"
I smiled and nodded, then plated up a portion of breakfast for Leo too.
This was Alexs apartment, but it was close to Leos office. Theyd been roommates in college and were still close, so Leo moved in to save on rent.
Back when Alex wanted to break up with me, Leo had tried to talk him out of it, telling him I was a catch and he shouldn't be an idiot.
But Alex had one rule: you could fight and argue all you wanted in a relationship, but once the word "breakup" was said, by either person, there was no going back.
Still, I appreciated the gesture.
Even though I suspected that, in private, they both probably thought of me as the ultimate doormat.
Just as the soup was ready, my phone rang.
Leo, holding his plate, gave me a slight smile and started to step away to give me privacy.
I waved a hand, telling him it was fine, and answered the call. "Hi, Mom."
"Yeah, it's the weekend, no work today."
"Mmmhmm, Im almost done packing. I already shipped the big boxes home, they should get there tomorrow or the day after."
"I have to go to the office on Monday to finish up the paperwork. I booked a train for the afternoon, so I should be home just in time for dinner."
"Okay, love you, Mom. Bye."
After hanging up, I turned to Leo. "Ive got to go. See you around."
Leo hesitated for a second, then stood up. "I overheard your call. Youre moving back to your hometown?"
"I am." I nodded honestly. "My parents are getting older, and their health isnt great. I figured Id move back to be closer and help out."
"Does Alex know?"
"We didn't talk about it yesterday. It's not a huge deal, is it? Not that important." I slipped on my shoes and gave him a wave. "Bye! Come visit my town sometime if you get the chance."
3
Alex didn't contact me all weekend.
I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom, had the landlord come for the final inspection, and checked into a hotel on Sunday night with my last suitcase.
Then, for the first time in a long time, I called him.
He arrived quickly, asking why Id picked a hotel for our meeting.
He was a bit of a clean freak and wouldnt stay in anything less than a five-star hotel. This place clearly didn't meet his standards.
I leaned against the doorframe, a small box dangling from my fingers. "Want to try?"
Alex raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised that Id suggest it.
My feelings for him were complicated, but ever since he broke up with me, we hadnt been intimate.
Mainly because he was always seamlessly transitioning between girlfriends, and I was never sure if he was actually single.
"You're the one who started this. Don't go crying later that I took advantage of you," Alex said, stepping forward and closing the door behind him.
"Were both single adults. Its mutual. How is that taking advantage?"
I knew exactly what I was doing.
Once we crossed this line, I was done letting Alex use the "friend" excuse to invade my life.
We were just two people with a physical history. Wed loved, wed been entangled.
And after this, it would be best if we never saw each other again.
The next morning, my alarm jolted me awake.
Alex groaned, burying his head deeper into my chest.
It was such a dependent gesture. I sometimes wondered if he had a mommy complex. His parents had divorced when he was young; he was definitely starved for affection.
I patted his head, got up, showered, dressed, and walked out with my suitcase.
After finishing my paperwork at the office, I was on my way to the train station when a message from Alex finally came through.
[1]
The single number meant: I'm awake, and Im making my presence known.
I didnt reply.
He didn't send another message.
That evening, I arrived home, tired and dusty from the journey.
My parents had prepared a huge welcome-home dinner, and the three of us ate together, laughing and talking.
After dinner, my dad did the dishes.
I went to my room to unpack a little, and my mom knocked and poked her head in, holding a photograph with a smile.
"Now that youre back, Mrs. Davis from downstairs came by. She wanted to know if you were interested in meeting this young man."
Over the years, my parents had gently nudged me about my love life, but they never pushed.
But my agreeing to move back was also, in a way, my agreeing to let them set me up.
If he had their stamp of approval, it meant his family and job were, at the very least, decent.
I took the photo.
He had an average, pleasant face. Not a stunner, but not unattractive.
I smiled and nodded. "Sure. Let's set something up."
4
Life in my hometown was calm and quiet. My parents pulled some strings and got me a temp position at a stable government job. The pay was low, but the work was easy.
The blind date we'd talked about was also scheduled.
The guy, Mark, worked in the public sector and was polite and well-mannered. We met up three times and both had a good impression of each other.
During this time, Alex messaged me three times.
The first was: "Met a new girl. She seems cool."
Attached was a heavily edited selfie of said girl.
The second was: "We're official. Shes great, much more mature than the others."
The last message came yesterday: "Damn, I didnt text her back for one night and she blew up my phone. So suffocating."
Based on my experience, the next step after a message like that was a breakup.
So, with great foresight, I put my phone on silent before going to bed.
When I woke up the next morning, I found that my phone had indeed been blown up.
A screen full of missed calls. From Alex, from his friends, from my friends.
I opened my messaging app. Dozens of unread texts.
Had Alex contacted every single one of our mutual friends?
"Girl, Alex is losing it! He called me in the middle of the night saying you were missing and he couldnt reach you."
"You didn't tell Alex you were moving back home? He sounded really off."
"Sarah, if you see this, call Alex back. Hes really worried about you."
Besides those, most of the messages were from Alex himself.
"Why aren't you answering your phone?"
"Come out for a drink. I'm downstairs from your old place."
"Not answering the door either? Are you sleeping that heavily?"
"Your neighbor said you moved? Whats going on? Where did you move to?"
"You went back home? Why didn't you tell me?"
"When are you coming back?"
"You're not answering texts or calls. Don't tell me you've actually disappeared."
Reading his messages made my skin crawl.
Alex had never been like this.
Usually, if I didn't answer after two calls, he'd give up.
He would never, ever cause such a scene, waking up all our friends at three in the morning just to find me.
The thought had barely crossed my mind when my phone rang again. It was him.
I swallowed hard and answered, my "hello" coming out a little shaky.
Silence on the other end.
I tried again. "Hello?"
This time, Alex finally spoke, his tone as casual as ever. "There you are. I was starting to think you'd been murdered."
"Sorry, my phone was on silent last night."
"No worries. Just don't do it again," he joked. "I was about to call the cops."
He sounded like he was driving. I could faintly hear the robotic voice of a GPS telling him to turn left.
"What are you so busy with back home?" he asked. "You don't tell me about something this big? Do you even consider me a friend?"
I fell silent.
I had never considered him just a friend.
"Whatever, I'm driving, I gotta go. You can hang up."
I needed to hang up anyway.
I had a date with Mark to go hiking, and I was running late.
At ten oclock sharp, I was ready. I said goodbye to my parents and headed out.
Mark's car was already parked downstairs. When he saw me emerge from the building, he smiled and held up a bag with breakfast he'd bought for me.
A smile spread across my face as I walked toward him, about to say thank you.
Suddenly, I heard someone call my name. "Sarah!"
I turned.
The door of a black Audi parked a short distance away opened, and Alex got out.
He stared at me, his expression unreadable.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "316861" to read the entire book.