Chapter 3

Back at my desk, I started clearing out my drawers.

There really wasn't much.

Most of it was little things Ryan had given me.

He liked leaving things around my workplace as a way of staking his claim.

A music box.

A pair of earrings I'd never worn.

A small decorative desk calendar.

A few ticket stubs from trips we'd taken together.

I pulled out a cardboard box and placed everything inside one by one.

Apparently, removing someone from your life wasn't nearly as difficult as I'd imagined.

That weekend, I scheduled my pre-assignment physical at the occupational health clinic designated by my company.

The clinic happened to be close to Ryan's office.

The night before, he'd offered to come with me.

I'd been busy filling out the last few fields of my visa paperwork, so I'd absentmindedly agreed.

At eight that morning, I waited outside the clinic.

The October wind was bitterly cold, and I pulled my trench coat tighter around myself.

Eight-thirty came.

Ryan still hadn't shown up.

I was about to text him when his message appeared first.

“Tessa's cat suddenly got sick. It's throwing up really badly, so I need to take them to the emergency vet.”

“Go in without me. Call when you're done and I'll pick you up.”

I stared at the two lines on my screen.

I didn't want to reply with a single word.

I put my phone on silent, slipped it into my pocket, and walked inside.

Bloodwork.

Basic tests.

Vaccination records.

Everything went faster than I expected.

It wasn't even eleven when I finished.

I sat on a plastic chair in the hallway, pressing a cotton pad against the spot where they'd drawn blood while people passed in front of me.

I'd always been terrified of blood draws.

Ever since I was a kid, the sight of a needle made me dizzy.

Whenever Ryan came with me, he'd cover my eyes with his hand and whisper stupid jokes in my ear.

But that day, I watched the needle slide into my vein by myself.

And I realized it wasn't actually that frightening.

Just cold.

When I finally stood up, a violent wave of dizziness hit me.

My blood sugar had dropped.

My legs went weak, and I collapsed back into the chair.

Cold sweat formed on my forehead, and even breathing became difficult.

When people were at their weakest, instinct made them reach for someone.

With trembling fingers, I called Ryan.

It rang for a long time before he answered.

“Done with your physical?”

His voice came through the phone.

But the background wasn't filled with the noise of a veterinary hospital.

I heard soft music.

The crisp clink of silverware against plates.

“Ryan...”

My voice was weak.

“They took my blood. I'm really dizzy. Can you come pick me up?”

There was a second of silence.

Then Tessa's cheerful voice came through the phone.

“Ryan, this cheese board is amazing. Come on, try some.”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“Where are you?”

Ryan immediately sounded irritated.

“I already told you. Tessa's cat needs surgery, and I'm waiting with her for the results. If you're going to get jealous, fine, but don't use your health as an excuse.”

“I'm not lying. I really—”

“Enough!”

He cut me off mercilessly.

“Jealousy stops being cute when you take it too far. You were never like this before.”

The call disconnected.

My screen went dark.

I sat frozen in the crowded clinic hallway.

People were talking all around me, yet I felt like I had been dropped into a freezer.

So that was what my weakness and my pleas for help looked like to him.

Just another performance.

A nurse eventually noticed me and brought me a cup of orange juice with some whole-grain crackers.

I forced myself to swallow them bite by bite.

I swallowed that tiny bit of warmth into my stomach.

And with it, the last attachment I still had to Ryan.

When I got back to the apartment that evening, Ryan still hadn't returned.

The place was empty and dark.

I didn't turn on the main lights.

I left only the small entryway lamp on, walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled out a suitcase.

Then I began folding my clothes into it one by one.

Everywhere I looked, there were traces of the life I'd built here.

The curtains I'd chosen.

The rug I'd bought.

The plants I'd raised on the windowsill.

But now, I didn't want to take any of it with me.