Chapter 3 - Before the Wedding
Aunt Renee arrived twenty-four minutes later.
She came through the front door wearing a dark cardigan over hospital-administration clothes, braids pulled into a low knot, expression controlled until she saw Nia.
Then her face changed.
“Niece.”
Nia crossed the room.
Renee wrapped her arms around her without asking questions.
For several seconds Nia remained stiff.
Then she folded.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Her forehead dropped against Renee’s shoulder, and one sound escaped her.
Renee held her tighter.
Darius remained at the dining table.
The old prescription bottle stood beside the wedding photograph Nia had removed from the console.
Renee noticed both.
“What happened?”
Nia stepped away.
“Tell her.”
Darius swallowed.
“Nia was diagnosed with HIV today.”
Renee looked at Nia.
Her hand immediately reached for hers.
Then she turned toward Darius.
“And?”
Darius said nothing.
Nia pointed at the bottle.
“He knew he was positive before we got married.”
Renee did not shout.
That was worse.
Her face emptied.
“How long before?”
“About ten months.”
Nia stared.
“You said before our wedding. You didn’t say ten months.”
Darius flinched.
“I was diagnosed in November. We married the following September.”
Ten months.
Nia pictured them choosing flowers in January.
Touring venues in February.
Sending invitations in April.
Taking engagement photographs in June.
Every memory acquired a second version.
One containing information only one of them possessed.
Renee looked at Darius.
“You had ten months.”
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
“Renee—”
“Mr. Cole, tonight you can call me Renee when my niece does. Not before.”
Darius lowered his eyes.
Nia had never heard her aunt speak to him that way.
Renee sat beside Nia.
“What did your doctor tell you after diagnosis?”
Darius rubbed his palms together.
“That treatment works.”
“What did they tell you about partners?”
His silence answered.
Renee leaned forward.
“What did they tell you?”
“To disclose.”
Nia closed her eyes.
“Did they offer to help you tell me?”
Darius hesitated.
“Yes.”
A fresh layer of pain moved through her.
“How?”
“They said I could bring you in. They had counselors.”
“And you said no.”
“I thought I could do it myself.”
“When?”
Darius looked at her.
“The rehearsal dinner. Then the wedding night. Then the honeymoon.”
Nia’s face twisted.
“The honeymoon?”
“I brought the medication.”
“I remember.”
Both Renee and Darius stared at her.
Nia laughed bitterly.
“You told me they were vitamins because traveling upset your stomach.”
Darius looked sick.
“I’m sorry.”
Nia stood.
“You carried HIV medication through our honeymoon and told me it was vitamins.”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of having HIV?”
“Of everything.”
“That wasn’t what you should have been ashamed of.”
The words landed hard.
Renee looked at Nia carefully, making sure the distinction remained clear.
Nia pointed to the bottle.
“Your diagnosis does not make you dirty. It does not make you less human. But lying to me about information that directly affected my health and my decisions?”
Her voice cracked.
“That belongs to you.”
Darius began crying again.
“I know.”
“No. You know because I found out.”
Renee asked, “Were you undetectable when you married?”
“Yes.”
“And later?”
Darius looked at Nia.
“There was a treatment interruption.”
“How long?”
“About eleven weeks.”
Nia stared at him.
“When?”
“Last summer.”
Her last negative test had been approximately six months earlier.
“Why?”
“My insurance changed. Then I missed appointments.”
“You could afford medication.”
“It wasn’t only money.”
“What was it?”
Darius looked away.
“Depression.”
Nia paused.
That answer softened nothing, but it complicated the picture.
Darius continued.
“I stopped taking care of myself. I hated the pills. I hated what they reminded me of.”
“Did your viral load increase?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Renee asked, “Did you know?”
“Eventually.”
“Before or after you resumed intimacy with Nia?”
Darius closed his eyes.
Nia whispered, “Answer her.”
“Before.”
Nia felt the floor tilt again.
He stood.
“Nia, I need you to understand. I restarted treatment. I got suppressed again.”
“But there was a window.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Did your doctor tell you to?”
“Yes.”
Nia sat down because her legs stopped cooperating.
Renee reached for her.
Darius took one step forward.
Nia lifted her hand.
He stopped.
For several minutes, the only sound came from traffic outside.
Then Renee looked at the receipt.
“There’s something else.”
Darius stiffened.
Nia noticed.
“What?”
Renee picked up the paper.
“This receipt isn’t from eight years ago.”
She turned it around.
“There are two dates.”
Nia took it.
At the bottom, beneath the original pharmacy transaction, was a reprint timestamp.
Four months earlier.
Nia stared at Darius.
“Why did you reprint an eight-year-old receipt four months ago?”
Darius said nothing.
Nia’s voice went very quiet.
“What were you planning?”
He looked at the wedding photograph.
And in that instant, she understood something worse than another hidden pill bottle.
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