I was about to close the app when my phone buzzed in my hand. Not a text—a call.
Melissa, Sarah's sister.
I let it ring three times. This, I decided, I would answer. Not for her, but to set a boundary that would hopefully filter back. I accepted the call.
"Melissa."
"Jake, finally! Oh my god, do you have any idea what you're doing?" Her voice was a burst of accusatory static, devoid of greeting. "Sarah is a wreck. She's devastated. She can't eat. She can't sleep. What you're doing is so cruel!"
I waited a beat for her to finish. "Is there a specific reason you're calling?"
"The reason is you need to stop this ridiculous silent treatment and act like a man! She made a mistake, okay? A tiny, human mistake. But you're blowing up your entire future over a little fight. You're destroying everything!"
"There was no fight, Melissa," I said, my voice calm and low. "She issued an ultimatum. I accepted it. The wedding is off. My decision is final."
"An ultimatum? She said she just needed some reassurance! A little space to feel sure! You're twisting it because your pride is hurt. For god's sake, she loves you. Are you really going to throw away five years because your feelings got bruised? Be the bigger person. Call her!"
I could see the family script playing out perfectly. Sarah had spun the story, minimizing her demand into a vague need for reassurance, painting me as the petulant, prideful villain.