“What is it?”
“You look good,” I say, my eyes moving down. “The tuxedo looks great on you.”
“You too,” he says, giving me a side-eyed glance.
“What did they say to you?”
“It wasn’t about me. They said a lot about you.”
“Really? What exactly did they say?”
A bitter smile tugs at his lips.
“That you’re a failure... And you would’ve had a great future had you not dropped out of Med School. That no decent man would marry you.”
I sigh.
“You can’t change the way people think or see things.”
He shifts his eyes to me.
“If you’re a failure, what the hell am I ?” he asks.
“Listen… It doesn’t matter what they say.”
“It doesn’t matter what they say unless it’s the truth.”
He pulls away, heading to the bungalow.
I pick up the bottom of my gown and rush after him, trying to keep my balance.
“It’s not the truth, Jaden,” I say, catching up with him.
“It’s not when it comes to you. You’re as far from a failure as I’ve ever seen. I don’t know anyone else so young, making the kind of money you make and running their life the way they want. And unless you do something illegal–– which I doubt––you’re someone I’d consider a success.”
He stops, and I do that, too, trying to catch my breath.
“Do you really mean it?” I ask.
“Every fucking word,” he says.
We enter the bungalow a few moments later.
He darts to the closet and spends a few moments collecting his clothes before slipping his travel bag onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m leaving.”
“You don’t have to leave. We’re not going back.”
“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” he says, shedding his clothes.
He pulls his jeans and a T-shirt on and then shoves everything else into his bag.
He places the tuxedo on the bed.
“I’m not such a success,” I say, my voice lined with a rather sad realization.