She kept scrolling through her phone.
"They're afraid of risk."
"Risk like what?"
"Starting businesses. Moving abroad. Investing aggressively."
I laughed.
"Investing aggressively can also mean losing aggressively."
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about."
"What?"
"You always see the downside first."
"I'm a financial analyst."
"You're proving my point."
At the time, I interpreted it as playful criticism.
Later I realized she had already started comparing us.
Liam was exciting.
I was safe.
Liam took risks.
I made plans.
Liam talked about international travel.
I talked about mortgage rates.
Liam represented possibility.
I represented certainty.
For five years, Sarah had told me certainty made her feel safe.
Now safe was apparently an insult.
The honeymoon argument happened about two months after she began working with him.
For years, Sarah and I had talked about visiting Italy.
Our planned honeymoon was the Amalfi Coast.
We'd built part of the wedding budget around it.
One evening, Sarah walked into the apartment and said, "What if we did Bali instead?"
I thought she was joking.
"Bali?"
"Yeah."
"What happened to Italy?"
"I don't know. Bali feels more interesting."
"We already put down deposits."
"They're refundable."
"Some are."
She sat beside me.
"Liam went last year."
There it was.
"He said it was incredible. Villas, beaches, everything."
I stared at her.
"We've been talking about Italy since college."
"People can change their minds."
"Sure."
"Why are you making this weird?"
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm asking why we should cancel a honeymoon we've planned for years because your boss liked Bali."
She became irritated.
"It's not because of Liam."
"You brought up Liam."
"Because he happened to mention it."
The conversation became cold.
Eventually I said, "If Bali really matters that much, we'll look into it."
Sarah didn't seem grateful.
She seemed disappointed.
As if my willingness to compromise had ruined an argument she wanted to have.
Looking back, that was a pattern too.
She had started testing me.
Trying to prove something.
Maybe she needed evidence that I was boring.
Or controlling.
Or incapable of understanding her.
Every time I responded calmly, she seemed more frustrated.
The Sunday everything ended began almost normally.
We were having dinner at Sarah's parents' house.
Her mother, Diane, loved hosting family meals.
There were usually ten or twelve people.
Aunts.
Uncles.
Cousins.
Friends who might as well have been family.
That evening, Sarah's uncle Robert was there.
Robert owned several commercial properties and had done very well financially.
He was one of those men who could ask personal questions without making them seem intrusive.
After dinner, he and I were talking in the living room.
"So what's next for you, Alex?"
"I got promoted recently."
"I heard. Congratulations."
"Thanks."
"And after the wedding?"
I laughed.
"Recover financially."
Robert laughed too.
Then I said, "Hopefully we'll start looking at houses next year."
"Kids eventually?"
"If everything goes according to plan."
Robert nodded.
"Smart."
Sarah was sitting across the room.
I noticed her watching us.
Robert looked toward her.
"You've got a good one here, Sarah."
She smiled faintly.
"A real one."
That was when something changed.
Sarah tilted her head.
"What does that mean?"
Robert looked confused.
"It means he's solid."
"Safe."
Robert laughed.
"Nothing wrong with safe."
Sarah looked at me.
There was that expression again.
Not anger.
Something closer to contempt.