Some Forgiveness Needs No Words

I was at Owens place to drop off some hangover soup.

His mother pulled me aside, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. The girl who brought him home last night she slept in the guest room. Dont get the wrong idea.

I asked without thinking, What idea would I get? That shes still too drunk for me to look after her?

The question hung in the air, followed by a dead, unnerving silence.

Just then, the guest room door creaked open.

A girl in Owens button-down shirt emerged, rubbing her eyes. A fresh, angry-red mark bloomed on her collarbone, impossible to miss.

It was Owen who broke the silence, his voice rough with sleep. Paige, let me explain.

I nodded, setting the thermos down on the console table.

Explain what? That the shirt fits her perfectly? I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Or do you need me to run out and buy her a womans blouse to change into?

This time, the color drained completely from Owens face.

The moment the car door clicked shut, Owens hand shot out to block it.

Paige, its not what you think.

I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel and turned to look at him. The early morning light slanted through the windshield, illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing the shirt the girl had just taken off, and the collar still carried the faint scent of a perfume that wasn't mine.

What is it I think, Owen? I asked evenly. That you two had a drunken one-night stand? That she wore your shirt on purpose to provoke me? Or that you called me over specifically to witness this little drama?

His Adams apple bobbed. It was the project wrap party last night. Nina drank too much, got sick all over herself. I couldnt just let her sleep in dirty clothes.

So you lent her your shirt, I finished for him. And the mark on her collarbone? Did you lend her that, too?

His pupils contracted, a flicker of involuntary panic.

It was an interesting reaction. Id known him for twelve years, been with him for seven. I knew what every single one of his micro-expressions meant. That was the instinctual fear of a lie being exposed.

He recovered quickly. She must have done that herself. Paige, can you stop being so sensitive? Were about to get married.

Thats right. The weddings next month, I said with a thin smile, starting the car. Which is why Im so curious to know why my fianc let another woman walk out of our future home wearing his shirt.

As I drove out of the complex, I caught a glimpse of Nina in the rearview mirror, standing on the balcony.

She was wearing my slippers. And she waved at me.

Owen and I met in college.

Sophomore year, our club went on a camping trip. The zipper on my tent broke, and I was left standing in the middle of a dark, cold mountain field, hugging my sleeping bag, completely lost.

He gave me his tent and sat by the campfire all night himself.

When I crawled out at dawn, his shoulders were damp with dew, and tiny droplets clung to his eyelashes. The feeling that rushed through me in that moment was like a mountain spring bursting forth, clear and overwhelming.

Later, he told me, Paige, holding that sleeping bag, you looked like a little lost animal.

He said, I couldnt just leave you there.

We dated for three years. He went to grad school; I started working. He started his PhD; I got a promotion.

The day he got his official offer from the research institute last year, his colleagues egged him on until he got down on one knee and proposed with the pull-tab from a soda can.

When I have the money, Ill get you a real one, hed said, his eyes shining.

I said yes. I never replaced the ring. Its still that same pull-tab. I threaded it onto a thin chain and have worn it around my neck, close to my heart, for over three hundred days.

Until last week, when I saw his purchase history on his phone.

A diamond ring from Cartier. A womans ring. The status said, Delivered.

The shipping address was not our home.

Proposals and mock-ups were spread all over the conference table at the wedding planners office.

The planner was in full swing. For the main color scheme, are we thinking champagne gold or a dusty blue? Dr. Reed, which do you prefer?

Owen was scrolling through his phone, distracted. Either is fine.

I took the lookbook and pointed to a design. This one. The gardenia theme. Gardenias were the first flowers he ever gave me.

Owen finally glanced up at me, his expression complicated.

After the meeting, he went to get the car.

I was waiting on the curb when my phone buzzed. A photo from an unknown number. The second I opened it, my fingers went numb.

In the picture, Owen was standing at a jewelry store counter, leaning forward slightly to help a girl try on a ring. The diamond refracted a cold, hard light. He looked just as serious as he had when hed proposed to me with a pull-tab.

The girls profile was bright and lovely. It was Nina.

A second message followed immediately.

[He said this style really suits my hand. What do you think, Paige?]

I looked up to see Owens car pulling up. He rolled down the window, his tone normal. Hop in. Ill take you back to the office.

I deleted the photo and got in.

As I fastened my seatbelt, I asked softly, Owen, if you met someone you liked more, would you tell me?

He frowned. Whats this about now?

Just asking.

The car merged into traffic, and the Bluetooth automatically connected to his phone. A series of message alerts chimed, and he fumbled to silence it, accidentally hitting play instead.

Ninas saccharine voice filled the car.

Thanks again for taking care of me last night! Oh, and my parents saw the ring. They absolutely love the style you picked out

Owen slammed the off button.

After a long, heavy silence, he said in a low voice, Paige, that was a wedding anniversary gift for her parents. Her boyfriend cheated on her, and she asked me to help her pick out a ring to pretend she still had someone who cared.

So you bought it on your account?

She just started working. She doesnt have that kind of money saved up.

I stared out the window at the morning rush hour, a sea of red taillights. This city has eight million cars and three thousand accidents a day, and thirty percent of them are caused by distracted driving.

Owen, pull over. Ill take the subway, I said.

What are you starting now?

I unbuckled my seatbelt. Im not starting anything. I just had a sudden thought that your passenger seat might have a new occupant very soon.

I couldnt sleep. At three in the morning, I got up for a glass of water. As I passed the study, I saw a sliver of light from under the door.

Owen was still working. The tapping of the keyboard was rhythmic and urgent. In the two years since hed finished his PhD and joined the institute, he had gotten busier and busier. Overtime was his new normal.

I leaned against the doorframe, water glass in hand, and watched his focused profile.

I used to love this version of him. Smart, dedicated, full of ideals. He used to say he wanted to develop a more efficient wastewater treatment technology to clean up the polluted river in his hometown. When he said that, we were crammed onto the tiny balcony of our rented apartment, sharing a bowl of instant noodles. The light in his eyes was brighter than any star.

But now, that light seemed to be shining somewhere else.

Still up? he asked, sensing me without turning around.

Thirsty. I walked in and placed the glass by his hand, my eyes catching the open message window on his screen.

I wasn't the chat pinned to the top.

The profile picture was the back of a girl in a lab coat. The contact name read: Nina - Environmental Engineering.

The last message was from twenty minutes ago.

Nina: [Senior, I double-checked the data on page three of the proposal, and its still not adding up. Could you maybe video call and walk me through it?]

Owen: [Youre still up this late?]

Nina: [Well, youre not sleeping either. Its a little scary being home alone. You could just leave the video on to keep me company.]

He hadnt replied to that one.

But scrolling up, I saw that last Wednesday at 1 a.m., shed made the same request, and he had agreed. The chat history included a screenshot from Nina. The video call had lasted two hours and forty-seven minutes.

My voice was very quiet.

Owen, do you remember last month when I had a fever of 102? I called you and asked if you could come home early.

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

You said you were in the middle of a critical project phase and couldnt get away. In the end, my neighbor had to take me to the hospital. I was in the ER on an IV until four in the morning. You got home from work, saw the empty bed, and only then did it occur to you to ask where I was.

He turned around, his brow furrowed. Paige, are we dredging up the past now?

I shook my head. Its not the past. Its the sudden realization that you do have time. Youre just not willing to give it to me anymore.

The fluorescent light in the study was stark, making his face look sallow. We stared at each other across the chasm of seven years. Between us lay countless nights hed come home late, countless times Id waited, swallowing the words I wanted to say. And the image of that girl, walking out of our guest room in his shirt.

Nina is just a colleague, he finally said, his voice weary. Shes new to the institute, theres a lot she doesnt know. Im her senior, Im just mentoring her.

Does mentoring require house calls? Video calls at three in the morning?

That was a special situation

I cut him off. Owen, thats what my father used to say.

He froze.

Hed say he was working late, that it was a business dinner, that his female colleague was just for work, I said, a bitter laugh escaping me as tears welled in my eyes. Then my mom waited outside a hotel until dawn and saw him walk out with his arm around that just a colleague. She was wearing his jacket. Just like Nina was wearing your shirt.

Dont compare me to your father! he snapped, jumping to his feet.

Then stop acting like him!

The shout exploded in the study, then quickly died, leaving a ringing silence. We were like two trapped animals, facing off in the ruins of our seven-year relationship.

Finally, he softened. He reached out to touch my face. Paige, Im sorry. I shouldnt have yelled. But youre really overthinking this. Nina and I

I took a step back, avoiding his hand. The wedding, I heard myself say. Lets postpone it.

The decision to postpone the wedding dropped like a bomb on both our families.

My mom drove up from her town that night, carrying bags of home-cooked food and groceries, saying she needed to help Owen get his strength back. She had no idea it wasnt his body that needed fixing, but his straying heart.

Couples shouldnt let the sun go down on their anger, she chattered while stuffing cured meats into our fridge. Owen is such a good kid. A respectable job, and hes so good to you. Hes just been a bit busy lately. You need to be more understanding.

I didnt say anything. I just stared at the pile of wedding invitations on the coffee table. Champagne gold cardstock, silver foil lettering. My name and Owens, side by side, looking like a perfect match.

We had picked out the design together three months ago. He said he wanted the best, that the cost didnt matter. Hed held me close that day, his chin resting on the top of my head, his voice soft. Paige, Im going to give you a wedding youll remember for the rest of your life.

The invitations were still here. The man who said those words was long gone.

Owens mother called, too, her tone cautious. Paige, dear, I shouldnt have said anything the other day. The truth is that Nina girl has had a tough life. Her parents are divorced, shes all alone out here trying to make it. Owen just has a soft heart. He was only looking out for her because he felt sorry for her.

Maam, I asked, if I had been the one to walk out of your guest room that morning, wearing another mans shirt, would you also think he was just looking out for me?

The line went silent for a long time, then ended with a sigh.

After hanging up, I opened Ninas social media profile. She had posted a few photos from the institutes annual party. In one of them, she and Owen were standing side-by-side on stage, accepting an award. She was beaming, and Owen was looking at her, his head turned slightly, a light in his eyes I hadnt seen in a very long time.

[Got an award with my senior! Thanks for all your guidance, looking forward to the future!]

In the comments from mutual friends, people were teasing them. [The golden couple!] [Whens the wedding?]

She replied with a blushing emoji.

I turned off my phone and walked into the bathroom. The woman in the mirror had dark circles under her eyes and a downturned mouth. She looked like a bitter shrew. No wonder Owen was tired of me. Who would want a partner so devoid of life?

But I used to laugh and joke. In college, I was on the debate team. Owen came to every single one of my matches, sitting in the front row holding a glowing sign that said PAIGE FOR THE WIN. When I won, hed rush onto the stage, pick me up, and spin me around, shouting to the cheering crowd, Thats my girlfriend! Isnt she amazing? The pride in his eyes back then was real.

When did it all change?

Maybe it started when he graduated with his PhD and joined that top-tier institute. He was suddenly surrounded by Ivy League alumni and post-docs, discussing international projects. And me? I had a bachelors from a state school and worked as an administrator at a small company, dealing with invoices and meeting minutes.

We had less and less to talk about. Hed tell me about the labs latest breakthrough, and it would all go over my head. Id tell him about office gossip, and hed be looking down, texting on his phone.

Eventually, he stopped talking about work, and I stopped sharing my life. We became like two strangers sharing an apartment, sleeping in the same bed with a galaxy between us.

That weekend, for the first time in ages, Owen didnt have to work. He said hed booked a table at a nice restaurant. He wanted to talk.

I picked out a dress and put on some makeup, trying to reclaim some semblance of a date night.

He had chosen a French restaurant where dinner cost a weeks salary. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the river, the lights of passing cruise ships sparkling on the water.

As the waiter poured the wine, Owens phone screen lit up, then went dark, then lit up again.

Trouble at the lab? I asked.

He silenced the call and placed his phone face down on the table. Its nothing. Tonight is just for you.

By the third course, his phone started vibrating again. This time it was a call. The name Nina was clearly visible on the screen.

Owen glanced at me and declined it.

I sliced into my foie gras. You should get that. It might be an emergency.

Its not. Tonight we agreed

Before he could finish, his phone rang again.

Ninas voice, choked with sobs, came through the speaker. Senior my moms in the ICU Im at the hospital, Im so scared can you please come please?

Owens face changed. Which hospital? Im on my way.

After hanging up, he looked at me. His eyes were full of guilt, but something else, too: urgency.

Paige, Ninas mom had a sudden heart attack. Shes in critical condition. She doesnt have any family here, I

I put down my fork and knife. Go. Its a matter of life and death.

He looked relieved. He stood up so quickly he knocked over his wine glass. The dark red liquid spilled across the white tablecloth and onto my dress, like a vicious wound.

Im sorry, I

I dabbed at the stain with a napkin. Its fine. Just go.

He rushed out, forgetting even to pay the bill.

As the waiter brought the check, I watched the direction he had disappeared and let out a soft laugh.

How familiar this all was. Two years ago, I had acute gastroenteritis, curled up on the floor in agony in the middle of the night. I called Owen, and he said he was in the middle of running experimental data and couldnt leave. I ended up calling an ambulance myself and spent the night in the emergency room. He showed up the next morning with a container of porridge, his face etched with guilt. Im so sorry, Paige. The project was at a critical stage.

I told him it was okay, that I understood. And I truly did. I believed his career was important, that our future depended on his hard work now.

But it turned out he wasn't too busy. He just saved his time for people who were more worthy of it.

I paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant. The river breeze was cool, carrying the first chill of autumn.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Owen: [Her mom is stable. Ill be back late. You should get some sleep.]

I typed a reply: [Okay.]

I thought for a moment, then added another sentence: [Owen, lets break up.]

Then I turned off my phone.

Moving out of that house was easier than I expected. Owen stayed at the hospital for three days, which gave me plenty of time to pack.

For seven years of a shared life, I had surprisingly few things. Two boxes of clothes, one box of books, and the small jewelry box with the pull-tab ring. Everything else, the furniture, the appliances, the matching sets of dishes, belonged to us. And us no longer existed.

I took off the pull-tab necklace and left it on the living room coffee table. Next to it, I placed a printout of the receipt for the diamond ring hed bought for Nina.

I took one last look around the home we had built together. The gardenia on the balcony had withered because Id forgotten to water it. Owen had forgotten, too. We were both too busy, too preoccupied with our own separate worlds, to remember that the things we shared needed tending.

As I was leaving, my next-door neighbor came out to take out her trash. Going on a trip, Paige? she asked with a smile.

I pulled up the handle of my suitcase. Yeah, a long one.

I didnt say I wasnt coming back. Some goodbyes dont need a ceremony, just as some relationships dont even deserve a funeral.

I found a temporary one-bedroom apartment in an old building near my office. After the movers left the boxes in the living room, I sat on the floor and started unpacking. At the bottom of the book box, I found an old photo album.

The pictures were from college, so young they were almost painful to look at. There was one of Owen giving me a piggyback ride down the mountain. Id sprained my ankle after that camping trip, and hed insisted on carrying me. The trail was steep, and he was sweating, but he was smiling. Youre so light, Paige. I could carry you forever.

I had believed him.

As I flipped through, the photos became fewer and fewer. We rarely took pictures after we started working. He was busy, he was tired, he said we were an old married couple, why bother with formalities.

The love was already fading then. I was just too slow, or too scared, to admit it.

When I turned my phone back on, there were dozens of missed calls, all from Owen. My messages had blown up. The last one was from ten minutes ago: [Paige, where are you? We need to talk. Please.]

I replied: [Theres nothing left to talk about. The key is with the building manager. Do what you want with the ring.]

He responded instantly: [Im not breaking up. I dont agree!]

I typed slowly, [Its been seven years, Owen. Leave me with a little dignity.]

The typing bubble appeared and disappeared for a long time. Finally, a message came through.

[Its because of Nina, isnt it? I swear, theres nothing going on between us.]

[Her mom needed someone, I was just]

I cut him off. [Owen, do you remember when my mom had surgery? Two years ago, to remove a fibroid. The day of the surgery, you said you had a project review you couldnt miss. I waited outside the operating room alone for six hours. You showed up later with a bouquet of flowers. You said you were sorry you were late. I said it was okay, the surgery was a success. But you never asked me how I got through those six hours. You didnt see the woman in the next bed, surrounded by her husband and daughter. The sound of their voices made me feel like I was a ghost. And you never noticed that from that day on, I never complained to you again.]

After sending that, I blocked his number.