text: She stood at the granite counter-top, slowly and carefully chopping the carrots. The recipe called for them to be cut julienne, something she always had difficulty achieving- these were turning out much more cube-like; squat and thick, as opposed to the long, elegant cuts the recipe mandated. She frowned and lowered the volume of the podcast that was emitting from her nearby phone, as though the noise was hindering her concentration. It wasn’t- and even if it were, she didn’t really need to concentrate at all. She’d already reread the text four times, each time scouring it as if some sort of new information would appear. *“It still hasn’t hit me yet! I feel like I have to see it before I can get excited. Please work with him and make sure I have my nails done before he does it lol”* She felt her eyes tearing up and she widened them, hoping the air would dry them. She knew she must have looked deranged, standing at the counter with a butcher knife, surrounded by mutilated carrots, and bulging her eyes out as far as they would go. In spite of herself, she gave a small chuckle. She straightened up when she heard him approaching from the hallway- as much as she prided herself on how open they were with each other, this was one thing she was NOT going to tell him. It was already an open wound on their relationship and she didn’t want to remove the Band-Aid. Just the week before, she had cried to him (on him, really) regarding this very thing. It had been a completely different couple that time, but it hurt all the same. *“It’s just a piece of paper,” he’d said. He took her hand and squeezed it. “Why does it matter so much? We will one day, just not right now. I’m still paying off student loans and finishing school. It doesn’t make sense for us.”* *She took her time to respond, weighing each answer that crossed her mind. “If it’s just a piece of paper, then why not? Especially when you know how much it matters to me?”* In the end, they both agreed to table the discussion for another day when they (she) weren’t so emotional; it was a shaky but welcomed armistice. They weren’t used to fighting and it felt unnatural. It hadn’t always bothered her- she prided herself on being independent- but it had somehow eroded her over time. As the years came and went and they both got older, each engagement started to sting with an increasing intensity. Family members that used to inquire about their future plans had stopped asking altogether- something that both pleased and saddened her, as if even distant family members realized it wasn’t going to happen. So, no. She wasn’t going to tell him. She would make a point not to, partly out of pride and partially from a desire to maintain the peaceful status quo they’d achieved. “Well, hey there! Need a hand?” He had walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her hair from her neck. He gave her a small kiss on her the top of her head. “I’m good, but thank you.” She forced a smile, looking away so he wouldn’t notice her eyes. She wasn’t sure if they were still red. She felt his eyes studying her and purposely avoided his gaze, pretending to busy herself with the carrots again. Eventually he gave up and walked away, heading back to the living room. “B?” She asked, setting down the knife and turning towards him. He looked back at her and stopped. “Yeah?” She thought for a second. What would she even say? That it was happening to their friends again, and how happy she was for them? That even though she was sad and scared and now almost certain it wouldn’t happen for her, that she still wanted them to be happy? Or that maybe he was right all along, and this yearning desire was just the result of being brain-washing by the wedding industrial complex. That weddings were stupid and a waste of money- it didn’t matter in the end, as long as they were together. Or she could tell him the truth. That his reasons were valid, and she understood them. But it hurt that after all these years, she still hadn’t been “picked.” That she worried that he only agreed to it as an abstract idea, and would always find a reason to put it off. That she was getting older, and it wasn't fair to keep her waiting. “I forgot what I was going to say,” she said, forcing a laugh. She turned back to the counter and began chopping the carrots. They were still coming out cubed, but maybe after enough practice they would look like they were supposed to.