No More a Nice Girl

Today's the day Hank Silva and I register our marriage. I got up before dawn and started getting ready. I picked out the most flattering off-white dress from my wardrobe. In front of the mirror, I kept checking my makeup, afraid of even the smallest flaw. Before I left, my mother kept reminding me to live well with Hank Silva. I smiled and nodded, my heart full of hope for the future. When I got to the Civil Affairs Bureau, it was only 7:30. Hank Silva said he'd go get breakfast first and told me to wait at the entrance. I leaned against the iron gate of the Civil Affairs Bureau, watching people and cars pass by. Holding the household registration book, my fingertips were starting to feel hot. After waiting nearly an hour, I finally saw Hank Silva rushing over. His forehead was drenched in sweat, and he was still carrying some unfinished steamed buns. Just as I was about to ask why it took him so long, he suddenly patted his thigh. "OMG, I forgot my ID card!" The smile on my face froze instantly. "How could you forget? Didn't I specifically remind you yesterday?" Hank Silva scratched his head apologetically, "I worked late last night, went straight to bed when I got home, and got flustered this morning, so I forgot." I bit my lip, feeling a little uneasy inside, but still told myself not to lose my temper. "Is it still possible to go back and get it now?" Hank Silva glanced at his phone. "It's just past eight, and my place is over half an hour away, so we should still make it." After saying that, he turned and sprinted towards the bus stop, telling me to wait right there. I stood outside the Civil Affairs Bureau, the sun slowly climbing, shining so brightly I had to squint. Every now and then, a couple would walk into the Civil Affairs Bureau hand in hand, faces glowing with happiness. I pulled out my phone to check the time: nine o'clock, ten, eleven. Hank Silva still hadn't come back. I called him; the first time no one answered, the second time he turned his phone off. The unease inside me kept growing stronger and stronger. At five in the afternoon, the closing bell rang at the Civil Affairs Bureau. The clerk glanced at me while locking the door and said, "Miss, still waiting? We're closed now; come back tomorrow." I stood there, clutching my household registration book, which was all wrinkled in my hand. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I held them back. Later, Hank Silva told me he'd gone home to get his ID card, got caught in traffic on the way, and his phone ran out of battery. Seeing the guilt on his face, I still chose to forgive him. He said it was just a momentary lapse of memory and that it definitely wouldn't happen again. I believed him. We postponed registering the marriage for a week, but finally got it done without any problems. Next was the honeymoon; we had already booked a trip abroad. On the day we were supposed to leave, I packed my bags early and dragged Hank Silva to the airport. At the check-in counter, when the staff asked for our plane tickets, Hank panicked again. He dug through his backpack, checked his pockets, and his face grew paler by the second. "Aurora, I... I think I didn't book the plane tickets." The suitcase in my hand nearly slipped to the floor. "You didn't book the plane tickets? Didn't you say you'd already arranged it last week?" Hank Silva kept his head down, speaking softly, "I was going to book it last week, but the company suddenly had a project, and I got so caught up that I completely forgot." Everyone around us was staring, and I felt my face burning with embarrassment. The carefully planned honeymoon was completely ruined. I sat on the airport bench, watching the crowd come and go, feeling deeply wronged. Hank Silva kept apologizing, promising he'd make it up to me. I tried to reassure myself that he was just too busy, not that he did it on purpose. But I never expected that his "forgetfulness" would later cause an irreversible tragedy.