Chapter 6
Right before the elevator doors closed, Evelyn grabbed Michael's sleeve, crying her eyes out.
"Michael, I really didn't do it on purpose," she sobbed.
Michael didn't come after me.
My phone buzzed with a message from him. [Delete the security footage. Don't embarrass Evelyn.]
I blocked him.
The day after I got back to my parents' place, Michael showed up.
He was downstairs, standing next to the car we picked up together.
My mom spotted him through the window, so furious she didn't even bother to take off her apron.
"He actually has the nerve to show up?" she snapped.
My dad grabbed a mop and was about to head downstairs.
I stopped them.
"I'll go," I said.
Downstairs, Michael was holding a bouquet of flowers.
They were white roses.
Evelyn's favorite flower.
When he saw me, he handed them to me.
"Claire, stop making a scene," he said.
I didn't take them.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I'm here to take you home," he said.
"I already told you, I'm not going back," I replied.
Michael pulled the flowers back, his tone softening. "I was too harsh last night. That whole thing with Evelyn really scared her. She's been apologizing to you all day."
"Let her come talk to me herself," I replied.
"She's not well, don't make things harder for her," he said.
I stared at the bouquet.
"So you really think bringing me her favorite flowers is going to fix this?" I said.
Michael glanced down at the flowers, as if it only just hit him.
"I just picked them up at the shop. Don't get hung up on something so small," he said.
Someone upstairs opened the window to watch the drama unfold.
My dad yelled from the window, "Michael, stop pretending to be a decent guy outside my house!"
Michael's face darkened.
"This is between me and Claire," he shot back.
My mom shouted, "My daughter's not marrying you! Are you deaf or just stupid?"
Michael took a deep breath and turned to me.
"Your parents are way too emotional right now. Claire, you're an adult; don't let them make decisions for you," he said.
"My decision has nothing to do with them," I replied.
"Are you really going to throw away seven years just because of Evelyn?" he asked.
"I'm not the one who broke us," I said.
His patience finally snapped.
"Claire, I've already swallowed my pride. What else do you want from me?" he snapped.
"Call off the engagement," I said.
"Don't regret this," he warned.
"You said that last night, too," I replied.
He took a document envelope out of his car.
"Here's a breakdown of all the wedding expenses from both families. Since you're the one calling it off, you'll have to cover the costs," he said.
I opened it and took a quick look.
Hotel, wedding planner, booze, invitations, even the gifts Eleanor bought for the relatives, every single thing was on me.
At the very bottom, there was a line for compensation for emotional distress.
"Whose emotional distress is this for?" I asked.
"My mom. Her blood pressure spiked last night," he said.
"And what about the ceramic pot Evelyn smashed? Not seeing that on your list," I shot back.
Michael's face darkened.
"Don't get snide," he snapped.
I handed the document envelope back to him.
"Show me the receipts and I'll settle up for what I actually spent. Anything your family decided to buy on their own? That's your problem, not mine," I said.
Michael stared at me.
"Look at you, acting all tough now. Is that because you think I won't actually go through with it?" he said.
"We're already done," I replied.
He tossed the flowers straight into the trash can.
"Fine. Claire, remember this day," Michael said, his voice cold.
Before getting in his car, he turned back and sneered, "Don't even think about going to the Northel project. With your attitude, you'll never make it out there."
I said nothing.
After his car drove off, my mom rushed downstairs and pulled me into a hug.
"Don't be scared, Claire. You've got your mom and dad," she said.
I patted her back.
"I'm not scared," I said.
That afternoon, I went to the museum to wrap up the last of my paperwork.
The lobby had a promotional display for the young ceramic artists' exhibition.
Evelyn's photo was front and center.
Next to it, the sign read: [Representative of the new generation in traditional ceramics.]
I barely glanced at it before heading straight for the restoration room.
The deputy director called out to me.
"Claire, just in time. Miss Shaw's exhibition piece got damaged. You're skilled at restoration, right? Could you help repair it for her?" he asked.
I turned around.