Chapter 4Left Behind At The Gate

I didn't argue.

Instead, I took my parents' bags and led them to a quiet airport hotel nearby.

The entire walk there, my father kept apologizing. "Iris, I'm really fine. Did I make things difficult between you and Wayne?"

My mother kept looking at her plastic bag. "Maybe we should just leave these things here. I don't want Wayne's family laughing at you because of us."

Looking at their anxious, fragile faces, my heart broke. They had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet they walked like criminals awaiting sentencing.

Once we got them settled in a room, I told them to rest.

I sat in the hallway, pulled out my phone, and canceled our flights to Maui. Then, I booked three one-way tickets to Boston.

Finally, I called our wedding coordinator.

"Cancel the wedding."

The coordinator’s voice rose in shock. "Iris? The wedding is tomorrow. Are you sure?"

I looked through the cracked door at my parents, who had already fallen into an exhausted, deep sleep on the hotel bed. "I am absolutely sure."

At ten that night, Wayne walked into the room. His face was set in a tight, annoyed grimace. The tension from the airport had clearly ruined his afternoon with Phoebe’s family.

He stood by the door, glaring at me. "Iris, we all fly out tomorrow morning. I don't want to see this attitude again."

He paused, exhaling slowly. "Phoebe cried for hours today. She feels entirely responsible for your parents missing the flight. When you see her tomorrow, you need to apologize to her."

I stared at him, genuinely stunned. Then, a dry laugh escaped my lips. "I need to apologize to "her"?"

Wayne crossed his arms. "Her family was perfectly ready to board today. Because of your sudden tantrum, everyone had to rebook their flights. You put a dozen people through that inconvenience. Don't you think you owe her an apology?"

To him, my parents being humiliated and stranded didn't count as a grievance. But Phoebe’s family having to wait a few hours was a tragedy that required my repentance.

I looked at him, and the desire to explain myself completely evaporated. "Sure."

Wayne let out a breath, assuming he had won, and walked into the bathroom to shower.

I sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the three boarding passes to Boston on my phone. My mind was entirely, beautifully quiet.

In the middle of the night, a soft rustling woke me.

I heard Wayne’s hushed voice coming from the small living room.

"Phoebe? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?"

I couldn't hear the other side of the call, but his voice instantly softened into a tender, protective hush.

"Don't be scared. I'm coming over right now."

As the hotel door clicked shut, my mind drifted back to a night three years ago. I had been burning with a 104-degree fever, shivering violently. When I called him, he had told me he had an important presentation the next morning and told me to just take some Tylenol.

Back then, I had made excuses for him. I told myself he was just driven, that his career was important.

But he didn't lack the capacity to rush to someone in the middle of the night.

He just didn't want to do it for me.

The next morning, Wayne returned to the room. He hadn't noticed the faint, pale pink smudge of lipstick on his collar.

Phoebe stood just behind him, her eyes slightly red, her voice dripping with sweet regret. "Iris, I am so, so sorry about yesterday. I really didn't mean to cause so much trouble."

I smiled faintly, offering no words.

When we arrived at the airport, Phoebe’s family was already gathered around the first-class check-in counter. Wayne smoothly handed over their documents, handling the process with practiced ease.

Phoebe’s parents, her aunt, her cousin—everyone was checked into first class.

But when the gate agent scanned my parents' documents, she paused. "Tom and Helen are ticketed for Coach."

My mother blinked, quickly waving her hands. "Oh, Coach is wonderful. Coach is perfect. We don't mind at all."

Wayne stepped closer, whispering to me as if trying to head off another argument. "Rebooking on such short notice was difficult. There were only so many first-class seats left. It’s only a four-hour flight, Iris. They’ll be fine."

Four hours.

Now he cared about the flight duration. Yet yesterday, he had been perfectly content to let them sit on a train for over thirty hours.

Phoebe chimed in, her voice sweet and helpful. "Maybe I can trade seats with your mom?"

Wayne immediately cut her off. "No. You didn't sleep at all last night, Phoebe. Don't push yourself."

I looked at the profound tenderness in his eyes when he looked at Phoebe, and then at my father, who was leaning heavily against a pillar to ease the pressure on his spine.

The final thread holding me to him snapped.

The boarding announcement chimed through the terminal.

The priority boarding lane opened. Wayne walked forward, guiding Phoebe’s mother by the elbow while wheeling her carry-on. Just before he entered the tunnel, he turned back to me.

"Iris, take your parents and queue up in the general line. I'll see you when we land."

With that, he disappeared into the priority lane with Phoebe and her family.

My mother gently nudged me. "Iris, sweetheart, we should get in line. We don't want to miss the gate."

I took her hand and pulled her gently out of the queue.

"Mom. Dad." I looked at them, my voice steady and clear. "We aren't going to Maui. I'm taking you somewhere else."

My mother's eyes widened. "But... the wedding..."

Over the loudspeaker, the final boarding call for Wayne’s flight echoed. I took one last look at the priority lane.

Wayne likely assumed we would meet him on the white sands of Maui.

He didn't know that we would never see each other again.