The Engagement Question That Ended Us

"So, when is the big day?"

Margot Beale's voice sliced through the low hum of indie pop and chatter filling her apartment living room. She stood near the coffee table, raising her half-empty wine glass like a microphone to command the room's attention. "I'm serious," Margot insisted, looking straight at the center sofa. "We were just talking about thirty-year plans. Come on, Julian. Seven years! When are you making an honest woman out of Cora?"

A few people chuckled. Someone in the back whistled.

I kept my smile pinned firmly in place. I turned my head, fixing my gaze on Julian sitting right beside me. The room felt warm, suddenly expectant. This was the opening. A joke, a timeline, even a vague, teasing promise would do. I waited for him to speak.

Julian picked up his scotch. He didn't look at me. Instead, he slammed the heavy crystal glass down on the wooden coaster. The sharp thud echoed like a gunshot, instantly executing the laughter.

"Who needs a refill?" Julian asked loudly, his tone rigid and defensive. "I'm heading to the kitchen. Anyone?"

Nobody answered. The silence stretched. One second. Two seconds. The weight of the quiet pressed into my skin. Across the table, Margot lowered her arm. Her eyes darted from Julian's retreating back to my face. She offered a wincing, apologetic look. Pure pity radiated from her expression.

My smile never faltered. I dropped my gaze, picked up my own cup, and took a long sip of my drink. The ice bumped against my teeth.

Julian didn't return to the sofa. He stayed by the kitchen island, talking to Mark about real estate trends. He deliberately avoided my gaze for the rest of the hour. When the clock struck eleven, he walked into the entryway and grabbed his wool coat from the rack.

"I'm heading out," Julian announced to the small group lingering by the door.

I stepped out of the living room. "You're leaving now?"

"I have that massive project next week," he said, shoving his left arm into the sleeve. "I need to get some sleep."

"It's Saturday night."

"Work doesn't care what day it is, Cora."

"Are we going together?" I asked, keeping my voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

Julian adjusted his collar. "No. Stay. Catch a ride with someone later." He opened the front door.

"Julian," I called out.

He paused, hand resting on the brass knob. "What?"

"Have a good night."

"Yeah. You too." The door clicked shut behind him.

I turned around. Margot stood at the edge of the hallway, holding two fresh cups. She gestured toward the sliding glass doors, and I followed her out onto the balcony. The crisp night air hit my face, cooling the flush in my cheeks. Traffic hummed on the street below, a steady rhythm against the chaotic noise of the party inside.

"Cora, I am so sorry," Margot whispered, leaning against the metal railing.

"It's fine, Margot."

"It's not fine. I shouldn't have