Decision From the Bench

The park was quiet. The late sun hung low, casting long shadows.

A man and a woman sat on a bench. The man stared at the ground, his hands on his knees. The woman watched the ducks moving on the water, the ripples breaking the surface.

“I have the money,” the man said. He didn’t look at her. “We can do it now. No reason to wait.”

The woman shook her head. Her eyes stayed on the pond. “It’s not the money. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” He turned to her, his face tight. “We’ve been over this. Why isn’t it right?”

She didn’t look at him. “It just isn’t.”

He pressed his fists together. His knuckles turned white. “We planned this. We’re ready.”

“I thought I was ready too,” she said. She pulled her coat closer around her. “Now I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” he repeated. His jaw tightened. He turned away. “Soon, it’ll be too late.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

He stood, walking a few steps, then turning back. “You always do this. You wait until it matters and then you back out.”

She flinched. “That’s not fair.”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the woman, standing still, then sat down again. His head dropped into his hands. “I just want us to be happy.”

“I do too,” she said. Her voice was low. “But not like this.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he reached for the woman’s right hand. “Okay,” he said.

She didn’t speak. She held the man’s hand and looked away, her eyes wet.

The sun slipped lower. The ducks paddled, their small wakes stretching across the pond.

Nothing else moved.