Edward disappeared through the side entrance before Max could answer.
The room slowly resumed its conversations, but the atmosphere had changed.
People were pretending not to watch.
They watched anyway.
Max looked at me.
“What did he bring?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
He scoffed.
“You always were bad at lying.”
I almost answered.
Then I remembered the agreement Edward and I had made.
No drama.
No performance.
Just get through the evening.
I turned away from Max.
My daughters were still arguing over whether they had each received the larger chocolate strawberry.
I crouched beside them.
“Let's go find our table.”
Behind me, Max said something to Claire.
I didn't hear it.
A few minutes later, Edward returned.
He was carrying a large cardboard box.
It was not wrapped.
There was no ribbon.
No card.
Just a plain brown box sealed with packing tape.
The contrast with the elegant reception hall was almost absurd.
Edward set it down near Max.
“Here.”
Max stared at it.
“What is this?”
“Your gift.”
“You couldn't wrap it?”
“I considered it.”
Edward looked at the box.
“Then I decided the wrapping wasn't important.”
Max glanced at the guests around him.
“You're serious?”
“Completely.”
He opened the box.
At first, he looked confused.
Then he pulled out a pair of enormous trousers.
They were old.
Too large for any ordinary person.
Several people nearby laughed nervously.
Max held them up.
“What the hell are these?”
Edward looked at them.
“They used to be mine.”
The laughter stopped.
Max looked from the trousers to Edward.
“You wore these?”
“Not just these.”
Edward took the trousers back and folded them over one arm.
“There was a time when nothing in my closet fit except clothes like this.”
Max gave a short laugh.
“And you're giving me your old pants?”
“No.”
Edward's voice remained even.
“I'm giving you a reminder.”
Max's face tightened.
“Of what?”
Edward looked toward me.
Then back at him.
“Of what people forget when they decide another person's worth can be measured by appearance.”
I felt my throat tighten.
I had not known this was what he meant by the gift.
Edward continued.
“A few years ago, I was much heavier than I am now. I hated photographs. I hated shopping. I hated sitting at crowded tables because I was convinced everyone was looking at me.”
Max said nothing.
Edward held the trousers in front of him.
“They were one of the last things I kept from that period.”
One of the guests looked away.
Another shifted uncomfortably.
Edward continued.
“I used to make jokes about myself before anyone else could.”
He glanced at me.
“One day at work, there was a birthday celebration. Someone offered me cake.”
I remembered.
The memory returned in pieces.
Edward standing near the conference room.
A paper plate in his hand.
People laughing.
Edward saying he couldn't eat cake because he had already eaten enough that week.
Then making a joke about how his body didn't need any more help becoming enormous.
I had told him to stop.
Not because I knew what to say.
Because I couldn't stand hearing him talk about himself that way.
Edward looked at me again.
“She told me something.”
Max crossed his arms.
“What?”
Edward's expression softened.
“She said she didn't like hearing me speak about myself as though I deserved to be punished for how I looked.”
I remembered saying it.
I hadn't thought it was important.
Apparently, Edward had.
“I didn't lose weight because Veronica inspired me,” he said. “I changed because I eventually decided to take better care of myself.”
He folded the trousers.
“But she was one of the first people who made me realize that becoming healthier wasn't supposed to begin with hating myself.”
The room was silent.
Max looked at me.
His expression was different now.
Not ashamed.
Not yet.
Confused.
As though he couldn't understand why this story had anything to do with him.
Edward put the trousers back in the box.
“You asked if she paid me to be here.”
Max's jaw tightened.
“I was joking.”
“No.”
Edward looked directly at him.
“You weren't.”
Max glanced around.
“Look, this is my wedding.”
“I know.”
“You're making a scene.”
Edward nodded.
“Then let's make it simple.”
He stepped closer.
“You've spent the entire evening trying to establish that Veronica is undesirable.”
Max's face hardened.
“That isn't what I'm doing.”
Edward raised an eyebrow.
“Isn't it?”
“You don't know anything about our marriage.”
“No.”
Edward's voice remained quiet.
“But I know what I heard you say.”
Max looked toward me.
“Veronica knows I didn't mean anything by it.”
I looked at him.
“Yes, you did.”
The words surprised even me.
Max went still.
I hadn't intended to say them.
But once they were out, I couldn't take them back.
“You always meant it,” I continued.
He opened his mouth.
I shook my head.
“No. Don't explain.”
The old pattern was too familiar.
Max would say something cruel.
I would challenge him.
He would soften the words.
I would accept the softened version.
Then he would do it again.
I was tired of participating.
Edward didn't interrupt.
That mattered.
He let me speak.
“You spent years telling me I wasn't attractive enough,” I said. “Then you left me for Claire and acted like that proved you were right.”
Claire's expression changed.
She looked at Max.
Max noticed.
“That's not fair.”
“Maybe not.”
I looked down at the box.
“But it's how it felt.”
Edward turned toward Max.
“Then answer one question.”
Max stared at him.
“What?”
Edward's voice was almost gentle.
“If you're genuinely happy with Claire, why are you still so interested in convincing everyone that Veronica is unwanted?”
No one moved.
The question landed harder than any insult.
Max looked at Claire.
Claire looked back at him.
For the first time that evening, there was no smug smile on his face.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I watched him struggle for an answer.
And then I understood something.
He had never really needed me to be alone.
He needed me to believe that I deserved to be alone.
Those were not the same thing.
Max finally said, “You're making assumptions.”
Edward nodded.
“Maybe.”
Then he stepped back.
“But you're the one who keeps proving them.”
Max's face reddened.
Claire touched his arm.
“Max.”
He looked at her.
She spoke quietly.
“Enough.”
It was the first time I had seen Claire tell him to stop.
Max pulled his arm away.
“This is ridiculous.”
He walked toward the bar.
Claire remained where she was.
She looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “I didn't know he still talked to you like that.”
I wasn't sure what answer she expected.
“He doesn't talk to me much anymore.”
She nodded.
“Maybe that's better.”
I looked at her.
She didn't smile.
For one strange moment, she looked less like the woman who had replaced me and more like someone who had discovered something unpleasant about the man she was about to marry.
Then someone called her name.
She walked away.
Edward stood beside me.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
“I think so.”
He looked at the cardboard box.
“Good.”
I smiled faintly.
“That was quite a gift.”
“I told you I brought something.”
“You didn't tell me it was that.”
“You didn't ask.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised me.
Across the room, Max stood alone.
For once, he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at Claire.
And Claire was looking back at him.
I had spent months imagining what it would feel like to see Max confronted by the consequences of his own words.
I had imagined satisfaction.
Instead, I felt tired.
The girls came running toward me.
“Mom, Dad looks angry.”
I looked across the room.
“Yes.”
“Did you make him angry?”
“No.”
My youngest considered that.
“Then why does he look like that?”
I looked at Edward.
He gave me a small shrug.
I turned back to her.
“Sometimes grown-ups get upset when someone tells them the truth.”
She nodded as if that made perfect sense.
Then she grabbed my hand.
“Come dance.”
I smiled.
“Okay.”
As I walked toward the dance floor with my daughters, I glanced once over my shoulder.
Edward was still standing beside the cardboard box.
Max was watching him.
And something in Max's expression told me the evening was not finished.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: Max Had Lost His Smile, but the Question Edward Asked Him Kept Echoing Through the Room Long After the Music Began
The Invitation Came With a Cruel Plus-One, and I Realized My Ex-Husband Still Wanted One Last Chance to Humiliate Me
Part 3 of 12
