Chapter 4: Broken Promises

That night, sleep wouldn’t come.

The motel heater rattled, blowing dry air that couldn’t chase away the ache in my chest. I opened Savannah’s chat, typed out a long message, then erased it, letter by letter.

Her coldness today made me furious. But then I thought, these are her parents. If it were me, I’d be lost too.

Suddenly, Savannah FaceTimed me.

Her face was half in shadow, probably hiding out somewhere private. “Did you get back okay?” she asked.

“Today was rough,” I admitted. “Didn’t we agree on everything? Why did the price suddenly go up?”

“That’s just how it is here,” she whispered. “Besides, I’ll bring a hope chest, too.”

“What’s in the hope chest?”

“Quilts, pillows, little things.”

I stared at the screen, stunned. “Do you really think that’s fair?”

She broke down, tears spilling over. “It wasn’t easy for my parents, raising me. Once I marry, I’m leaving them. I’m giving myself to you—what else do you want?”

Her tears softened my heart, even as frustration gnawed at me.

I remembered the pandemic, when my business crashed and I was left with $30,000 in debt. I’d holed up at home, playing video games and binge-watching shows, sick from junk food and stress. I didn’t even want to see a doctor.

Savannah had come over, bringing food, comforting me, rubbing my stomach at night, humming softly until I fell asleep. Once, I woke to find her asleep on top of me, holding me tight, whispering, “It’s okay, everything will be fine.”

Holding her hand back then, I’d made a silent vow: I have to marry this girl.

I said, “Don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”

She sniffled, “Will you still marry me?”

“Yes,” I promised.

The silence stretched between us, but I could hear her breathing ease, as if hope was still possible.