Chapter 3

I went out.

No destination in mind.

I passed the high school I used to attend.

The plane trees by the gate had been replaced season after season.

I stopped and stared at them for a long time.

Jerome and I had been classmates.

My sister was a year ahead of us.

Back then, she worried about me walking home alone in the dark.

Every night after study hall she waited for me at the school gate.

I don't know which day it started, but Jerome began showing up on our way home too.

My sister teased that he was there to walk me home.

But even though we were in the same class, we weren't really close.

After that, my eyes started following him without my meaning to.

The day college admissions ended, my sister egged me on to confess.

So I did.

Jerome was clearly caught off guard.

His lips moved, like he was about to refuse.

But what finally came out was "Okay."

From then on, Jerome became part of my life and my sister's.

I'd always thought he stayed for me.

Now, looking back.

He stayed because my sister was there too.

If he only said yes back then to get close to my sister,

then that faint bit of warmth in every touch over these ten years,

was nothing but his guilt toward me.

I didn't dare think any further.

I took a deep breath, walked to the curb, and flagged down a taxi.

The moment I got in, I saw Jerome's car pull out of the complex garage.

Wrong direction.

Not the office, not the gym either.

"Follow that Maybach up ahead."

Turn after turn, it finally stopped in a quiet alley on the city outskirts.

At the end stood a studio.

A private house with its own yard, green vines climbing all over the wall.

There was a marking on the mailbox by the door.

Not a name. A date.

I did the math.

It was the day my sister went abroad.

The door was ajar. I pushed it open a crack.

I heard my sister's voice.

"What did Lois mean this morning? Did she find out?"

Jerome's voice was low, edged with anger.

"You promised me she'd never find out, didn't you?"

My sister's voice grew a little calmer.

"She won't."

"I asked her. She said everything's fine, that nothing happened."

"She's probably just in a bad mood."

He was quiet for a while, his breathing slowly evening out.

"This is the last time I'll come here. I won't come back to this place again."

My sister let out a soft laugh.

"Is that so?"

"We bought this studio together five years ago. Every painting on these walls, you drew with your own hands."

"Jerome, can you really just walk away?"

A few seconds of silence.

Then the sound of an embrace.

Fabric brushing, breaths tangling together.

I let go of the door and stepped back.

Through the gap, I saw the walls hung full of sketches.

All of them my sister's face.

Different angles, different light, different expressions.

Not a single one was me.

Like an outsider who'd wandered into someone else's world, I stood at the door, cold all over.

The memories started rushing up on their own.

The last month before my sister went abroad, three years ago.

Jerome worked late constantly, often not coming home until the middle of the night.

Two years ago, on Valentine's Day, he said he'd been called in at the last minute to host foreign clients.

The dinner I'd made went cold, and I poured it out.

Later my sister posted a foreign street scene on her feed.

The location was the same city where Jerome had said he was "on a business trip."

Last year, on my sister's birthday, Jerome's phone was off the whole night.

The next day he said he'd left it at the office.

One thing after another.

All of it laid out.

I turned and left the alley, called a car, and went home.

I didn't expose it.

It wasn't time yet.

Once I was back, I started packing.

Jerome got home half an hour after me.

He walked in calm, saw me sorting through the closet, and came over to hug me from behind.

Tight.

"This morning was my fault."

He rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice low.

"The oatmeal, I got it mixed up. Don't be angry."

"Will you hold it against me?"

I looked at the wedding gown in the closet I hadn't even had the chance to try on, and pulled at the corner of my mouth.

"Of course not."

He let out a breath and went to the bathroom.

The instant the water started running, I let the smile fall.