Practical Women Do Not Recycle Trash

Shortly after we got engaged, we took our coworkers out for dinner to celebrate.

Over drinks, someone suggested we play the "Newlywed Game" to test how well we knew each other. "Question one," a coworker grinned, holding up their phone. "What’s the bride’s favorite flower?" Colin glanced across the table at Mia, his mentee, and hesitated for three long seconds. "Roses... right?" I love sunflowers.

But the crystal vase on his kitchen island was always filled with longstemmed red roses. I had always assumed it was just his preference in interior design. "Next!

What is the bride’s biggest fear?" "Uh... thunderstorms?" I am terrified of the dark. Mia is the one who cowers at the sound of thunder.

The table chuckled, oblivious to the tension, and moved to the third question. "What’s the bride’s goto takeout order?" Colin blurted out instantly, "Pad See Ew.

Mild." I only eat Drunken Noodles, Thaihot. Mia was the one who ordered the mild, sweet noodles every time our team worked late. Out of five questions, he got four wrong.

The only thing he got right was my shoe size—a standard size six. Only because Mia wore the exact same size.

Across the table, Mia looked down, stirring the straw in her cocktail with an impossibly innocent smile. "Don't be mad, Joanna," she said softly, batting her eyelashes. "Colin is just messing around with you." A memory flashed in my mind.

Last week, Colin had gifted Mia a birthday present. It was a delicate diamond pendant I had been eyeing for months.

When I asked him about it, he’d shrugged and said it was just a random impulse buy for a subordinate. ... "Did you really have to embarrass me like that?" Colin’s hands gripped the leather steering wheel, his tone dripping with irritation.

I turned my head, watching the city lights blur past the passenger window. I didn't say a word. "Everyone was just having fun.

Did you have to sit there with a stonecold face the entire night?" He tugged at his collar, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. "Mia even stepped in to smooth things over for you, and you didn't even have the decency to say thank you.

What is everyone going to think of you?" I stared at his reflection in the dark glass. "What exactly should I be thanking her for?" my voice was quiet. "Thanking her for knowing my fiancé better than I do?

Or thanking her for answering what my favorite food is?" Colin slammed his foot on the brake. The SUV jerked to a halt at a red light.

He turned to me, his eyes filled with a heavy, patronizing exhaustion. "Joanna, here we go again." He let out a harsh breath. "Mia is an intern. I trained her.

We eat team lunches together all the time. Is it really a crime that I remembered her dietary restrictions?

Can you please stop being so ridiculously sensitive?" I pulled my gaze away and looked down, tracing the lines on my palms. "Right.

Not a crime." My voice was flat, devoid of any inflection. Colin seemed satisfied with my submission. He eased his foot off the brake as the light turned green. "Exactly.

We’re about to get married.

You need to start acting like a mature adult." He reached for his phone mounted on the dashboard, opened his messages, and held down the audio record button for his group chat. "Hey Kevin, sorry about the vibe tonight," Colin said, his tone instantly shifting to a breezy, apologetic brocadence. "Joanna is just too practical.

She doesn't really get romance, doesn't even like roses, so don't sweat it.

Drinks are on me next time." I watched him drop the phone back into the cradle, his movements so casual it was as if he hadn't just humiliated me to his friends. "Practical.

Doesn't get romance." So, in his eyes, my love for sunflowers was a lack of romance. And the red roses permanently displayed in our home were the pinnacle of highclass affection.

A hollow ache hollowed out my stomach. "I’m a little hungry," I said. "I want to order something." Colin kept his eyes on the road. "Your battery is dead, right? Just use my phone.

Passcode hasn't changed. It's still your birthday." I reached for his phone and punched in my birthday. The screen unlocked.

I opened his DoorDash app, intending to look through his past orders to reorder from that Thai place I liked.

But the moment the history loaded, my finger froze hovering over the screen. The order log was completely saturated with recent deliveries. Three times a week.

Every single delivery address was to Mia’s studio apartment downtown. Every single order was a meal for two—always from the mild, sweet side of the menu.

And in the special instructions box for every single order, he had typed the exact same sentence: "Please make sure there is absolutely no spice.

Her stomach is very sensitive." A slow, numbing frost crept from my fingertips, settling heavy in my chest.

He couldn't remember my favorite flower, but he could micromanage a takeout order down to the exact spice level for another woman. "Figure out what you want?" Colin’s voice broke the silence. "Get whatever.

I’ll expense it." I slowly closed the app and placed the phone back on the mount. "Never mind." "Suddenly lost my appetite." Colin glanced at me, completely unbothered. "Probably for the best.

Eating heavy takeout this late is bad for your skin, anyway.

You have to fit into that wedding dress next month." There was a sickeningly sweet, almost patronizing generosity in his voice when he mentioned the dress.

I pulled my own phone out of my purse. I opened my messages and scrolled down to the bridal party group chat.

Just yesterday, my bridesmaids had been buzzing with excitement about the bachelorette trip. My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I typed a few quick words. "I'm so sorry, guys.

We don't need to do the dress fittings." I hit send.

Then, I clicked on Becca's contact—my wedding planner. "Becca, could you please pull up the mailing list for the eighty invitations we sent out?

I need to prep a cancellation notice." Just as the message went through, my screen went black. The battery had finally died.

At the exact moment the screen faded to black, the SUV descended into the underground parking garage of our condo. Colin parked, killed the engine, and unbuckled his seatbelt.

He turned to me, reaching out to affectionately ruffle my hair. "Saw you texting furiously over there.

Sorting out the wedding favor details with the planner?" He smiled, the picture of a supportive partner. "I appreciate you handling all this. I'm terrible with the little details.

Whatever you decide is perfect with me." I looked at his practiced, seamless affection.

I gave a small, barely perceptible nod. "Yeah." "You don't need to worry about it anymore." The next morning, I woke up before the sun. Colin was still asleep.

I sat alone on the living room sofa, wrapped in a blanket. On the kitchen island, the red roses stood tall in their crystal vase.

He had just swapped them out for a fresh batch two days ago. After plugging my phone into the charger, I opened Instagram.

The first thing on my feed was a post Mia had uploaded ten minutes ago.

It was a closeup photo of a diamond pendant, catching the morning light and fracturing it into tiny rainbows against her collarbone.

It was the exact necklace I had spent hours admiring at the boutique, the one I ultimately couldn't justify buying because of the price tag.

Swiping to the second slide, there was a handwritten card. I recognized Colin’s sharp, angular handwriting immediately. "Happy Birthday to my little ray of sunshine.

May you never have to be afraid of the thunder." The caption read: "There is no better feeling than being someone's priority.

Thank you to a certain someone for spoiling me~" There were zero mutual likes on the post. It was obvious she had manipulated the privacy settings so only I could see it.

I stared at the screen. The girl who was afraid of thunder got the handdelivered mild dinners, and she got the diamond necklace I had dreamed of. A notification dinged.

A direct message from Mia. "Joanna! Did you see my post? I honestly didn't want to accept it, it’s just way too expensive." "But Colin insisted.

He said if he bought it for you, you’d just complain about him wasting money, so he gave it to me instead." "Please don't be mad at him for spending so much!

He was just trying to spare you the financial anxiety!" Reading the text bubbles, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. Colin always had a beautifully packaged excuse.

He could take the one thing I desired, hand it to someone else, and somehow twist it into an act of profound consideration for "me". I typed a reply. "I'm not mad at him.

Glad you like it." I hit send, stood up, and went to change my shoes. Colin had an early board meeting today, and he was dropping me off at my office on the way.

I walked down to the subterranean garage and slipped into the passenger seat. Minutes later, Colin appeared.

He was wearing a sharp, charcoalgrey suit, looking every bit the successful executive. "Waiting long?" he asked, clicking his seatbelt in. "No.

Just got down here." I reached toward the glove compartment to grab a tissue to wipe a smudge off my hands.

As I popped it open, a crushed plastic box tumbled out and hit the floor mat by my feet. Inside were three bruised, driedup sunflowers.

Tucked next to them was a generic, massprinted card from a cheap corner bodega. "Handpicked for you. Hope you like sunflowers." I bent down and picked up the box.

The yellow petals were crumbling into dust. It had clearly been shoved in this compartment for weeks. Colin glanced over, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second.

But he quickly recovered, flashing an easy smile. "Oh, right. That." "I drove past a bodega a few days ago, saw they were on clearance, and grabbed them.

Meant to bring them up, but it slipped my mind." "Since you don't really care for all the flashy, expensive romantic stuff, I figured it was perfect for you." I looked down at the pathetic, crumbling stems.

Mia got a carefully curated, fivethousanddollar diamond necklace. I got the discount bodega flowers he couldn't even be bothered to take out of the car.

I slowly opened the plastic lid. "What’s wrong?" Colin asked, spinning the steering wheel as we navigated out of the garage. "They still look kind of nice, right?" I didn't answer.

Right in front of him, I grabbed the dried flowers and the generic card, crushing them all in my fist.

As we pulled out onto the street, I rolled down the window and tossed the entire crumpled mess into a public trash can on the curb.

Colin slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into park by the sidewalk. He whipped his head to face me, his brow heavily furrowed. "Joanna, what the hell are you doing?

Are you having another episode?" I pulled a tissue from my purse and methodically wiped the dried yellow dust from my fingers. "The flowers were dead.

They were covered in dust." "I was just throwing away the trash." Colin took a deep, shuddering breath, visibly trying to control his temper. "Are you seriously still pouting about the dinner last night?" "Or is this about Mia’s necklace?" He had finally decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room. "That necklace was a completely random purchase!

It was Mia’s birthday. She reports directly to me—I couldn't exactly show up emptyhanded, could I?" "You literally refuse to even buy yourself a fivedollar latte most days!

If I bought you a necklace that expensive, you’d just lecture me about budgeting for the mortgage!" "I am constantly bending over backwards to accommodate your practicalities, and this is the thanks I get?

Why do you have to be so damn sensitive?" I looked at his flushed, indignant face. Whenever he got angry, the corners of his eyes would turn slightly red.

In the past, that redness used to terrify me. The moment he frowned, I would immediately backtrack, apologize, and reflect on what I had done wrong.

But today, I felt absolutely nothing. I had no desire to coddle him anymore. "You bend over backwards to accommodate me." I repeated his words, my voice eerily calm. "Okay.

Understood." My total lack of resistance left Colin entirely unbalanced. "Good. Glad we're on the same page," he muttered, defensive. "Stop being so paranoid.

The wedding is in a month. Just drop the drama." That evening, I walked into our master bedroom and pulled my large hardshell suitcase from the very back of the walkin closet.

Opening it on the floor, I began methodically folding my clothes. We had picked out this condo together. Half the wardrobe belonged to me.

But I only packed the essentials—my absolute favorite pieces. The rest, I didn't even touch.

Colin stepped out of the ensuite bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, vigorously drying his hair. As he walked past the bedroom door, he stopped.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching me. "Why the sudden packing spree?" His tone was back to his usual smooth, affectionate cadence, as if our morning argument had never happened.

He walked up behind me, wrapping his arms securely around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I knew you’d come to your senses.

Once you cool off, you’re always the reasonable one." "It’s going to be humid in the Caribbean.

Pack a few extra sundresses." I smoothed out the collar of a white linen shirt, folding it perfectly in half. "Okay." A blinding flash of white light illuminated the bedroom, instantly followed by an earsplitting crack of thunder right above our building.

Every light in the condo died. A total blackout. The bedroom was swallowed in a suffocating, pitchblack darkness.

I have suffered from severe nyctalopia—night blindness—since I was a child. Combined with a deep, instinctual phobia of the dark, my body immediately went rigid.

My breathing grew shallow and frantic. My heart began to batter against my ribs like a trapped bird. Blindly, desperately, I reached out to grab Colin’s arm.

But the moment my fingers brushed his sleeve, he was already pulling away. In the crushing dark, I heard the rustle of him patting his pockets.

A harsh, blue glow illuminated the space between us as his phone screen flared to life, highlighting the sheer panic etched into his profile.

He stared at a notification, and the color drained from his face. "The storm is hitting Mia's neighborhood, too." His words tumbled out fast, laced with a frantic, uncontainable anxiety. "She lives alone.

She's absolutely terrified of thunder.

I have to go check on her." I stood frozen in the middle of the dark room, my hand still suspended in the air, grasping at nothing. "I'm afraid of the dark." My voice was a pathetic, trembling whisper.

But Colin had already pivoted toward the hallway, his heavy footsteps rushing toward the front door as he snatched his keys from the console. "Just find a candle!

Or use your phone flashlight!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Mia’s situation is different! She’ll have a panic attack!" "I’ll be back soon!" The heavy oak front door slammed shut.

The rapid echo of his footsteps down the corridor faded away, until there was nothing left but the oppressive silence of the apartment.

I stood in the pitchblack bedroom, slowly lowering my empty hand to my side. The LED beam from a phone flashlight could never warm the glacial chill settling into my bones.

I sat on the edge of the bed, shrouded in the dark, and didn't move for the rest of the night.

It wasn't until dawn, when the first pale rays of sunlight pierced through the storm clouds and the power grid flickered back to life, that I finally stood up.

At 10:00 AM, the lock clicked.

Colin walked in, carrying an insulated, designer takeout bag, flashing a sheepish, apologetic grin. "Jo, I'm so sorry about last night." He set the bag on the kitchen island and popped the lid off the container inside. "I drove all the way to the south side to get your favorite breakfast from that artisan deli.

Stood in line for an hour. Eat it while it’s hot." A rich, heavy aroma of seafood wafted through the kitchen. It was crab bisque. I stared at the steaming bowl.

I didn't move a muscle. Colin and I had been together for three years. He knew. He knew I was severely allergic to shellfish.

One bite, and my throat would swell up, my skin breaking out in agonizing hives. But Mia? Mia constantly raved about the crab bisque from the south side deli.

Colin held out a silver spoon. "Why aren't you eating? I told you, I waited an hour for this." I took the spoon from his hand. I picked up the heavy ceramic bowl.

And, maintaining unbroken eye contact with him, I walked over to the kitchen sink. I tipped my wrist.

The entire bowl of premium crab bisque slid down the drain in a wet, heavy sludge.

Colin followed me into the kitchen, his face instantly darkening with rage. "Joanna, you are crossing a line!" "I stayed up all night, I drove across the city to buy you breakfast to make it up to you, and even if you aren't hungry, do you really have to throw it away right to my face?!" I turned on the faucet, letting the hot water wash the remnants of the soup down the garbage disposal. "I am allergic to shellfish." Over the sound of the running water, my own voice sounded like it was coming from a thousand miles away.

Colin froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. I shut off the tap, dried my hands on a towel, and walked past him without a second glance.

Back in the living room, I grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the dust and debris from last night’s storm that we hadn't had a chance to clean.

As I swept under the edge of the sofa, a crumpled piece of thermal paper slid out. It was the boutique receipt for the diamond pendant.

I bent down and picked it up. "$7,000.00." I looked down at my left hand.

On my ring finger sat my engagement ring—a modest, discounted style Colin had asked a buddy to buy dutyfree during a trip abroad. It cost exactly $1,000.

I remembered what he had told me when he slipped it on my finger: "Jo, we need to save for a house and a family. A ring is just a symbol.

We have to be practical." I stared at the seventhousanddollar receipt in my hand. Then, I tossed it into the dustpan with the rest of the dirt.

That afternoon, Colin went back to the office. I sat in the study, booting up his old MacBook.

My own laptop was in the shop, and I needed to handle the logistics of canceling the wedding vendors. When the screen lit up, his iMessage app automatically launched.

A notification bubbled up in the corner. It was his college fraternity group chat.

I normally wouldn't snoop, but the preview text flashing across the screen caught my eye, sharp as a physical blow.

Kevin: "Bro, you actually going through with the wedding next month?

Does this mean you're finally settling down?" Another guy replied with a smirking emoji. "No more pining after little Mia?

Word on the street is you rushed out in a thunderstorm like a knight in shining armor last night." Colin’s typing bubble appeared, followed by his text: "I'm marrying Jo.

She’s domestic. A guy needs a stable woman to manage the house." Kevin: "So what’s the deal with Mia?

That necklace you bought her wasn't exactly cheap." The chat went dead for a few seconds.

Then, Colin sent a long block of text. "I’ve been with Jo for so long, kissing her feels like clocking in for a shift. It’s purely administrative. Completely flavorless." "But Mia?

When I see Mia wearing that necklace, smiling up at me? My heart actually races." "Getting married won't change anything. Jo is reasonable.

She won't make a fuss." I stared at the black text on the bright white screen. My heart didn't race. I didn't even feel the sting of betrayal.

Instead, a profound, heavy exhaustion seeped out from my very marrow. I closed the messaging app.

I opened my email, found the digital RSVP links Becca had set up, and hit "Deactivate". As dusk fell, Colin returned home.

He walked in carrying a beautifully wrapped shoebox, his face beaming with eager anticipation. "Jo! Your custom wedding shoes finally arrived.

Come try them on, let’s see if they fit." He set the box down on the plush living room rug and lifted the lid.

Inside sat a pair of breathtaking stilettos, encrusted with hundreds of tiny Swarovski crystals. "I had my guy in Milan rushorder these for you.

I know you’re going to love them." I sat on the sofa, watching him pull the shoes from the tissue paper. Mia and I wore the exact same shoe size. Size six.

It was the only question he had managed to answer correctly at that dinner. I slipped off my slippers and slid my bare feet into the heels. The fit was flawless.

I stood up and took two steps across the rug. "Well? Gorgeous, right?" Colin asked, looking deeply proud of himself. I looked down. My gaze landed on the arch of the sole.

Embedded into the leather of the arch, spelled out in miniature rhinestones, were two letters. "C & M." Colin & Mia. I stared at those two letters for a long time.

Colin followed my line of sight. For a fraction of a second, raw panic flashed across his face. But he buried it instantly. "Oh, those letters?

It’s just... a signature rhinestone pattern the brand uses.

I didn't even notice." "If it bothers you, I can take it to a cobbler to have it scraped off." He stepped forward, reaching down to help me take them off, when his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The lock screen lit up with a message from Mia. "Colin, I just walked past the florist. I saw the mockup for your wedding arch." "Sunflowers everywhere.

They’re so bright, it hurts to look at." "I can't go to your wedding. It’s going to break my heart." Colin read the text, freezing midmotion.

He slowly stood back up, picked up his phone, and without a second of hesitation, dialed the florist. "Hey, Becca.

We need to revise the floral arrangement for the ceremony." "Cancel the sunflower arch. It’s too flashy. I don't like it." "Right.

Not a single sunflower." He hung up, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate. "Jo, I just think we should keep the aesthetic more understated.

Sunflowers are just... tacky." A second later, his phone vibrated again. It was a flight confirmation email from Delta.

Our romantic honeymoon to the Caribbean—the one I had spent months planning—had been entirely canceled. In its place were two firstclass tickets to Aspen. I despise the cold.

I have never skied a day in my life. But on Mia’s Pinterest board, her numberone bucket list dream was to see the snow in the Rockies. I looked at Colin.

He didn't even bother swiping away the airline notification. Because he was the one who had booked it.

His phone buzzed again, and a soft, private smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Mia, obviously. "I need to step out for a bit," he announced, already heading toward the door.

I slowly bent down and slipped the C & M stilettos off my feet, stepping barefoot onto the wool rug. "Suit yourself," I said softly. Colin seemed relieved.

He walked back over and tried to pull me into a hug. I shifted my weight, turning my shoulder just enough to dodge his embrace.

He stood awkwardly for a second, then just patted my head. "Be a good girl. I'll be back later to keep you company." With that, Colin hurried out the door.

I reached down and twisted the discount diamond ring off my left ring finger. Then, I picked up the ring and the custom stilettos.

I walked over to the kitchen island and dropped them directly into the crystal vase, right into the murky water beneath the longstemmed red roses.

The water rippled as the diamond sank to the bottom. I walked into the bedroom and grabbed the handle of my packed suitcase.

By the time I opened the front door, the sky outside was pitch black. I pulled out my phone and sent one last text to Becca. "All eighty invitations canceled." "The wedding is off."