This Wasn't Suppose To Happen

Chapter 14

The constant, yet soft, breeze blows against my face while I walk down the streets of downtown Atlanta.

I should tell him. I should tell him everything.

Though, that wouldn't help much. It wouldn't make everything I've put him through just disappear.

I would still live with this overwhelming guilt, this weight pounding on my heart. I can't shake it, whether I fess up or not.

The bell above the door chimes to alert those inside the cafe as I push through the door. I spot him sitting at a table near the middle of the cafe. He seems as though he hasn't gotten much sleep. His head jolts back and forth, scanning the premises every now and then, probably in search of me. As his gaze lands on me, a bright smile graces his face and he stands up. I stride over to the table and embrace him. He smells like aftershave and toothpaste.

"How's my favorite girl?" He releases me as just as quickly and sits down. I follow his lead.

"I'm fine. Look, I'm sorry we haven't talked since the party. I've been really busy."

Okay, that's a lie. Unless you classify "busy" as sitting in your apartment, refusing to talk to anyone, even your roommate, and eating double chocolate chip ice cream while you watch reruns of Gossip Girl. But I'd say most people classify that as a broken heart.

He opens his menu and scans lazily over the options. "It's perfectly fine. I understand." He reaches into his pocket. "I'm glad that you were able to meet me, though." I raise an eyebrow. "I want to ask you something."

I put my menu down and look up at his striking eyes. He pulls out a little black box and holds it in one hand; he takes my hand in his other. "Nina Dobrev, I have had the pleasure of knowing the perfection that is you for the past few years. I love you more than I thought I could ever love another person. So would you do me the incredible honor, of being my wife?"

Something catches in my throat.

For once in the past couple years, I'm surprised by him.

I'm utterly speechless.

I look around the small cafe. Everyone's staring at us, and I don't blame them. When you see two people from a television show in a cafe while you're having a meal, you have the obligation to stare. Add in a marriage proposal, and you're insane if you don't stare.

I look down at the little black box, holding the delicate, diamond ring. Then I look up at his expectant face, smiling nervously.

I believe in moments.

Moments that can go two different ways: for better or for worse. When you choose the wrong way to go in a moment, you end up with an even worse effect. These moments can change our lives in several different ways, which is why free will is such a blessing.

But what if you're so broken, so bruised, so incredibly unable to pick the right way to go, that you feel as though picking the wrong way couldn't possibly make things any worse? What if you just feel like giving up everything you're fighting for? Does that make you weak?

"Yes," I answer. "Yes, I'll marry you."

His nervous smile peels away to reveal a confident one. He moves around the table and pulls me into a tight hug. "I love you so much, Nina," he whispers into my hair.

I close my eyes and soak in the sound of everyone in the cafe clapping and cheering. Maybe this is how it should be. Maybe it's time to finally give up.

"I love you too, Ian."

It does.

It does make you weak.
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A stack of papers is lying on the table by his dresser.