Page 9 of Date with Destiny

I try ringing him but it goes to voicemail and I feel a strange gnawing in my stomach. Where is he? What if he’s not OK?

He didn’t mention anything about plans tonight when we said goodbye this morning. But I was in a rush and fieldinglots of lovely WhatsApp messages wishing me a happy birthday. Maybe I missed something.

Oh god, what if he told me to meet him somewhere and I was too distracted shooting off amusing gifs to friends?

I message him again and then retrace my steps around the flat, checking for a note on the fridge or by the door. Something jangles in my head as I pass through the hallway – I’m missing something. Thehallwayis missing something.

The bags! That’s it. Daniel’s suitcase for Amsterdam. The stuff he’d prematurely packed for his stag do. They’re gone. I quickstep through to our bedroom to check and they’re not there either.

Did I get the plan wrong? Surely I’d remember if his stag do in Amsterdam started midweek, on a Wednesday. On mybirthday.

No, we talked about it enough – he was definitely going on Friday afternoon.

The gnawing in my stomach is starting to get more intense. If he was injured or there was an emergency, he wouldn’t have taken his suitcase. And he would’ve messaged me. The last WhatsApp he sent me was yesterday and it just asked me to please bring home bread.

Slowly, my hands shaking, I make my way over to his side of the wardrobe and when I open it, I find… nothing. Just empty hangers, dead moths and dust. His clothes are all gone. His shoes are gone. His cologne, deodorant, shaving equipment, hisstuffis all gone.

I try to ring him again because this can’t be what it looks like – itisn’twhat it looks like. There’s no way, no chance. He wouldn’t do this. There was no warning, no signs. We’re getting married and we have an amazing, lovely life together.

There is still no answer and this time I leave a strangled message that sounds nothing like me.

‘Why are all your clothes gone, Daniel? Where are you? I’m really confused, can you ring me back, please? Please, Dan.’

Then I change into my pyjamas, get into bed and stare blankly at the blackness of the turned-off TV for hours, waiting for my phone to light up.

It is almost midnight before he finally messages me back.

Ginny, I’m sorry. I can’t go through with the wedding. I just need some time, a bit of space to think. You were right, it is all too much. I can’t do it. Dx

I drop my phone back on the bed as my hands go numb. I look around at the flat – at our flat – and feel its barrenness reverberate back at me. I glance down at his bedside table, empty of its usual mess. There are no used cups with its standard coffee line around the rim. No empty Twirl wrappers, no little pots of vitamins, no half-read biography about some sports star. The tiny things that make this flat our shared space are all gone. And so is Daniel.

The numbness travels through me as one thought loops around my brain again and again.

Happy birthday, Ginny.

CHAPTER FIVE

Getting dumped turns out to be a slow burn.

When I get to the store for work the morning after my birthday, Toni asks me how my evening was and I tell her it was nice but quiet. We’re busy all day and I spend two solid hours with a couple who want a bespoke ring, fully designed and customized, but without any idea of what it should look like. I spend a while showing them options around the store and then refer them to the outside company we use for bespoke items.

They’re sweet, I think, as I take their details, but I have a feeling it won’t last. She’s already got that ever-so-slight disdain for him. You can see it when he suggests something she doesn’t like, or when he tries to kiss her. And once the contempt has set in with a relationship, from what I’ve seen, there’s rarely any coming back.

Daniel and I don’t have that. We’re kind to each other, we look after each other, and we compromise. We’re a healthy, functional, affectionate couple who are goingto have a long and happy life together. There isn’t any other option.

Days go by and I still don’t tell anyone.

On Saturday, Myfanwy drags me to her summer solstice ceremony in her garden and I laugh as she lights a bonfire. I join in when she and Sonali sing weird nature-y songs. I even find some enthusiasm when she declares that next year we’ll all take a trip to Stonehenge. I laugh even harder when she says we’ll make our other uni friend Emily join us on the pilgrimage. Emily never comes toanythingand is only a WhatsApp ghost on our uni group these days.

I want to cry a lot, but I don’t because I don’t want everyone to know. If they know, they might judge Daniel badly for doing this. I don’t cry, not even as he contacts our wedding vendors and the emails start coming in.

‘This is to confirm you’ve cancelled your flower order for 10th August. Unfortunately we are unable to refund your…’

Blah blah. They all say the same kind of thing. We’re not getting any of the money back. Not a penny.

And the only thing I feel is relief that Celeste is not cc’d into any of the messages.

Mostly, I don’t cry because I know –I know– that everything is going to be OK. I know that this is just a blip. Daniel said in his message – his only response to the hundreds of messages I’ve bombarded him with – that he needed sometime and space. He’s just overwhelmed. Exactly like I was. How can I blame him for calling off the wedding when I pretty much said I wanted to do the same? This isn’t about me and him – we’re great together! We love each other! – this is about that stupid, awful, OTT wedding. Once we’ve cancelled it and dealt with everyone’s anger and disappointment, we can get back to our lives. Maybe we’ll sneak off to Gretna Green or our local registry office. But either way, we’ll be happy and live a lovely long life together.

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