Chapter 2

"Joyce, there's a limit to how far you can push a lie."

"Time and again, you can't stand the sight of anyone else near me."

"Rose knocked herself out drinking on my behalf just to help me land that deal. And you? All these years living off me, eating my food, and you still find something to complain about?"

Listening to Luther, I nearly laughed.

Back when he said he wanted to start his own company, I gave up a promotion that was about to come through and followed him without a second thought.

I poured everything I had into it, wearing myself down chasing clients and closing deals for him.

I knew he was allergic to alcohol, so in those years I was the one who took every drink meant for him. There was a stretch where I drank until I was throwing up, and that was how I ended up with a serious stomach condition.

I still remember Luther crying at my bedside that day, promising he would treat me well for the rest of our lives.

But now that he had a stable company and a higher standing, he had forgotten every bit of what I once gave up for him.

A bitter sting rose behind my nose, and the unfairness of it left me close to tears.

Forget it. I was leaving anyway. What was the point of holding on to any of this.

I said nothing, showered, went back to the bedroom, and lay down, which left Luther angry enough to slam the door shut.

Nothing more was said all night.

The next morning he set out bowls and chopsticks for me and called me over to eat.

He pushed a bowl of steaming grits and a plate of shrimp dumplings in front of me and said with a smile, "Rose put this together for you. She saw you were upset, so she already moved out this morning, and she made a point of getting up early to buy breakfast and had me bring it back as an apology. The dumplings and the grits are still hot, go on and eat."

I looked at the red oil and shrimp floating over the curds, and for a long moment I didn't pick up my chopsticks.

There was anger in Luther's eyes.

"Joyce, that's enough."

"She went out of her way to buy you breakfast, and not only are you ungrateful, you're sitting there sulking! Do you really have to be this petty?"

"You've really let me down."

I waited until he had said his piece, then looked at him flatly.

"You've forgotten. I have a serious stomach condition. I can't eat any seafood or anything heavy anymore."

Something like surprise and guilt flickered through Luther's eyes.

Maybe he had finally registered his own mistake, and the promise he'd made me back then.

He lowered his head and apologized. "I'm sorry, Joyce. I won't forget again—"

"There won't be an again." My voice stayed level.

"What?"

Luther didn't understand and wanted to press further, but just then his phone rang.

And with that, whatever question was on his mind no longer mattered. He scrambled to answer.

He was close enough that I heard Rose's panicked, sobbing voice clearly.

"Luther, this hotel has cockroaches too. I just saw several of them crawling on the sink, and if they bite me I'll go into allergic shock again, I'm so scared. Can you come and stay with me?"

At that, Luther's grip tightened hard around the phone.

"Don't be scared. I'll move you to another hotel. I'm coming over right now."

After he hung up, he explained to me, grave and earnest, "Joyce, Rose really is in danger right now. She's been allergic to cockroaches her whole life, otherwise she wouldn't have moved out earlier. And I swear, I really do treat Rose as nothing more than a little sister. Stop making a scene over her."

He didn't wait for an answer. He was already striding to the door.

His coat swept the breakfast off the table, and most of it spilled onto the floor.

I looked at the shut door and let the corner of my mouth curve.

Every time before, whenever he and Rose crossed a line, I couldn't help getting jealous and upset, and every time he said I was petty and unreasonable.

But Luther, don't worry. From now on, I'll never make a scene over you again.

Just as Luther turned and left, a message came in from the captain.

He'd booked me a flight out of the country.

The date fell exactly seven days out, on the tenth year since Luther and I had met.

The anniversary countdown in the living room had become the countdown to my leaving.