"Let me make sure I understand. You are formally requesting that I, your fiancé, put my life, my heart, and my dignity on indefinite hold. While you, my fiancée, go out and sleep with other men. This field research is to determine if my value is high enough to ultimately earn the prize of being your husband. Is that the proposal?"
Her face flushed with irritation. "You're twisting it. You're making it sound so cheap and transactional. It's about emotional and experiential verification. It's about knowing."
"The question stands, Sarah. Is that what you are asking of me?"
She crossed her arms, defiance solidifying her features. "Yes. That's what I need. For us."
For a long moment, there was only the sound of the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. I looked at the woman on my sofa, at the engagement ring glittering on her finger—the ring I'd spent 4 months saving for. I saw the utter conviction in her eyes, the complete lack of awareness of the nuclear weapon she'd just detonated in the center of our shared life. She truly believed this was a reasonable, even courageous, request.
The future I'd seen—the house, the trips, the quiet years growing old together—dissolved like mist. All that was left was the stark, simple truth of the person in front of me.
I nodded slowly. "Okay," I said.
The single word hung in the air. Relief flooded her features. The tension melted from her shoulders and a sweet, triumphant smile spread across her face. She'd won. She'd gotten her way.
She uncurled herself and moved to hug me. "I knew you'd understand. This is for the best. For us."
I stood up before she could reach me, her arms closing on empty air. "I'm tired," I said, the flat tone still in place. "I'm going to sleep in the guest room."
"Oh. Okay," she said, the smile faltering only slightly. She mistook my shock for noble sacrifice. "We can talk more in the morning. I love you."