Chapter 6
I spent the next three weeks learning that an apology was not a magic key.
Marcus answered my messages, but he didn't return to our old routine.
He no longer called to ask whether I had arrived safely.
He didn't send me photographs of things he thought I would like.
When I visited him, he was kind, but careful.
I hated the distance.
Then I remembered how much distance I had created myself.
So I stopped asking him to reassure me.
Instead, I started listening.
During my second visit, I brought the wedding payment records Denise had sent me.
"I want to reimburse you," I said.
Marcus examined the papers.
"You don't owe me a payment for being your father."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I lowered my eyes.
"I think I'm beginning to."
He pushed the papers back toward me.
"I chose to help with your wedding. I made that decision willingly. You don't need to repay every dollar to prove you love me."
"Then what can I do?"
"Start making honest decisions. Even when they cost you something."
I nodded.
For once, I didn't argue.
Meanwhile, the consequences of Darius's promises were becoming impossible to ignore.
He had told several relatives that Marcus had sabotaged my wedding out of jealousy.
He claimed my stepfather had withdrawn his support at the last minute to punish me for choosing my biological father.
At first, I stayed silent.
I was embarrassed.
I didn't want people knowing that I had nearly married in the middle of a financial disaster.
But when my aunt called and accused Marcus of ruining my special day, I finally told her the truth.
"Darius never secured the money he promised."
She fell silent.
"He said Marcus was trying to control you."
"Marcus tried to make sure the wedding was financially secure. I accused him of being controlling because I didn't want to hear what he was telling me."
I explained the contracts, the missing guarantee, and the letter from twenty years earlier.
My aunt listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she sighed.
"I owe Marcus an apology too."
Word spread through the family.
Some relatives admitted they had believed Darius because they wanted to believe that he had changed.
Others were angry that I had let the situation get so far.
I didn't blame them.
I had contributed to the confusion.
Then came another surprise.
My fiancé, Andre, asked to meet me.
We sat in a quiet coffee shop near my apartment.
He looked exhausted.
"I need to tell you something," he said.
My stomach tightened.
"Okay."
"When your father first came back, I was happy for you. I knew how much you wanted a relationship with him."
I nodded.
"But I started noticing things."
"Like what?"
"He kept asking about your finances. Your salary. The money Marcus had saved. Whether you and I planned to buy a house."
I stared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did. You told me I was being suspicious because I didn't want you to be happy."
I remembered the argument.
Andre had questioned Darius's sudden interest in my life, and I had accused him of being jealous.
The memory made me feel sick.
"I should have listened."
"Yes," Andre said. "You should have."
He wasn't cruel.
That almost made it worse.
"I love you, Nia. But I need to know whether you can recognize a problem without making everyone who points it out your enemy."
I looked at my hands.
"I don't know if I can promise that I'll never make another mistake."
"I'm not asking for perfection."
He took a breath.
"I'm asking for honesty."
I nodded.
"Then I need to be honest about something too."
He waited.
"I don't think we should get married next month."
His face fell.
I reached across the table.
"I want to marry you because I love you. Not because I'm terrified of disappointing everyone who bought a ticket, booked a hotel, or helped us plan the wedding."
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he nodded.
"I think postponing it is the right decision."
We agreed to seek counseling and give ourselves time.
It hurt to postpone the wedding.
But it felt better than pretending everything was fine.
Two days later, Darius appeared at my apartment.
He carried flowers.
"I thought we could talk," he said.
I didn't invite him inside.
"What do you want?"
He looked offended.
"Is that how you greet your father?"
"It's how I greet someone who keeps avoiding my questions."
He sighed dramatically.
"I made a mistake with the wedding. I admit that."
"You lied about the money."
"I was going to find it."
"You also lied about the trust."
He glanced toward the hallway.
"Your mother has been filling your head with old stories."
I felt my anger rising.
Then I remembered Marcus's advice.
Make honest decisions, even when they cost you something.
I stepped back from the doorway.
"You need to leave."
"Nia—"
"No. I am not discussing this until you're willing to tell the truth without blaming someone else."
He stared at me.
For the first time, I didn't rush to soften my words.
I didn't apologize for making him uncomfortable.
He finally placed the flowers on the floor.
"You're going to regret treating me this way."
I watched him walk toward the elevator.
Then I picked up the flowers, carried them downstairs, and left them beside the trash.
It wasn't revenge.
May you like
It was a boundary.
And for the first time in my life, I understood that I could set one without becoming a cruel person.
