Because Matthew had never behaved like a man who didn't love me.

He knew my fears.

He knew how I took my coffee.

He knew I hated thunderstorms.

He knew I couldn't sleep when I was worried.

He knew which childhood memories still hurt.

He had held me through the hardest moments of my life.

How could all of that have been fake?

Then I remembered the sentence:

“I've been planning this since we were teenagers.”

That was the part I couldn't escape.

The Morning of Our Anniversary

Our fifth wedding anniversary arrived.

I expected to feel nothing.

Instead, I woke up strangely calm.

At 9:00 a.m., Matthew sent me one message.

“If you still want the truth, come to the place where we first met.”

I knew immediately where he meant.

Our old elementary school.

I drove there.

The school had been renovated, but the playground was still there.

Matthew was standing beside the old oak tree where we'd spent countless afternoons as children.

He was holding a small wooden box.

When he saw me, he smiled.

Not his usual smile.

A nervous one.

“I wasn't sure you'd come.”

“I almost didn't.”

“I know.”

He took a deep breath.

“Do you remember when we were seventeen and you told me you were afraid we'd grow apart after high school?”

I nodded.

“You told me you were scared college would change everything.”

“I remember.”

“I was scared too.”

He opened the box.

Inside were dozens of handwritten notes.

Some were faded.

Some were folded several times.

I picked one up.

It was dated twenty years earlier.

“Things I want to do with her someday.”

I looked at him.

“What is this?”

“It's my plan.”

The Plan

Matthew sat on the bench beneath the tree.

“When we were teenagers, I realized I was in love with you.”

I swallowed.

“I knew.”

He smiled.

“I don't think you did.”

“I did.”

He laughed softly.

“Maybe.”

He looked down at the box.

“I knew I wanted to marry you someday. But I also knew life could take us in different directions.”

He paused.

“So I started writing down things I wanted to give you.”

“Give me?”

“Not things. Experiences.”

He pulled out another note.

“Your first apartment.”

Another.

“A trip to the ocean.”

Another.

“A house with a garden.”

Another.

“Your favorite watch.”

I froze.

“The watch?”

He nodded.

“The watch you ordered?”

I stared at him.

“How did you know?”

He smiled.

“I didn't.”

Then he laughed.

“I've been trying to buy you that watch for months.”

I blinked.

“What?”

He reached into his jacket.

And pulled out a second box.

Inside was the exact same watch.

My mouth fell open.

“You…”

He smiled.

“You bought one for me.”

“And I bought one for you.”

For the first time in days, I laughed.

But I was still confused.

“Then what was the trap?”

Matthew looked at me.

“There was no trap.”

I stared at him.

“But you said—”

“I said, ‘She walked right into my trap.’”

“Yes!”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I wasn't talking about you.”

I frowned.

“Then who?”

He smiled.

“Your mother.”

The Truth I Never Expected

I stared at him.

“My mother?”

Matthew nodded.

“She's been helping me.”

“Helping you with what?”

He reached into the box and pulled out a document.

It was a blueprint.

I unfolded it.

It was a house.

Not just any house.

Our house.

The house we'd talked about building for years.

The one with a garden.

A large kitchen.

A little reading room for me.

A workshop for him.

And a small guest cottage in the back.

I looked at him.

“What is this?”

“Your surprise.”

I couldn't speak.

Matthew continued.

“Five years ago, when we got married, I made a promise to myself.”