I ended my engagement after my fiancée asked for a break to see if her ex still meant something to her. She thought I would sit and wait inside the life we had spent four years building — until three days later, her mother called me, and Tessa finally realized I was never her backup plan.

“I never said you weren’t worth marrying.”

“But you’re not sure.”

Her silence answered before she did.

“If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together,” she said, “I have to be certain. And right now, I’m not.”

There it was. After four years, after the ring, after the wedding plans, after calling my house ours, after every conversation about children and careers and growing old together, she was still not certain.

I looked at her then. Really looked at her. And for the first time that night, I understood that she did not think she was doing anything cruel.

She genuinely believed this was a reasonable request. She believed I would remain where she left me, like a bookmark in a chapter she could return to if the next one disappointed her. I stopped pacing.

“You know what?” I said. “Sure.”