Chapter 3

The plastic wheels of the suitcase shrieked loudly, a deafening sound along the quiet sidewalk. Every pull felt like dragging the heaviest burden of life. My hands, which just a few minutes ago were shaking from Dad’s slap, now gripped the iron handle of the suitcase so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The pain in my left cheek, bruised from Dad's slap, was no longer felt; there was only a throbbing ache that was in sync with my racing heartbeat.

The door to the Watson family home had closed tight behind me. There was no longer Jose the golden boy. There was no longer Jose the math champion. Everything was buried behind that teak door. I kept walking. My shoes felt heavy, filled with water seeping in through small cracks. Every step was a struggle against the exhaustion starting to spread from my calves to my spine. My body shivered violently. The clothes clinging tightly to my skin weren't just wet; they felt like a cold second skin, piercing through to my deepest nerves. I didn't care. I just needed a destination.

In my head, there was only one name on repeat: Kent. He was my sanctuary. He was the only person who knew that behind that "perfect child" label, there was someone fragile who yearned for freedom. I imagined him opening the door, pulling me into his arms, and telling me everything would be okay. That even though I lost my home, I gained a future with him. That hope was like gasoline fueling my spirit to keep dragging this suitcase, even though my legs were already starting to feel numb.

All along the way, the images from the house earlier kept haunting me. Dad’s face turned bright red as he called me "family garbage." Mom’s sobbing, which ironically silenced herself for the sake of the family's dignity. Every memory hit me like a physical blow. I bit my lower lip, holding back the sound that wanted to come out of my throat. I couldn't cry right now. Tears would make me look weak, and I didn't want Kent to see me as a broken victim. I wanted him to see me as someone who was brave enough to make a choice.

Two hours passed in emptiness. When I finally reached the turn leading to Kent’s neighborhood, my breathing had turned into a painful, short rasp in my lungs. My pace slowed down. I stopped across the street, right under the shelter of a large tree, catching my breath so I wouldn't look like someone who had just been thrown out. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to get rid of the remaining water and dirt clinging to it.

The house looked bright. Its porch light cast a golden glow, creating a warm atmosphere that contrasted sharply with me, now shivering violently in the darkness. I took a deep breath, getting ready to cross. However, my steps halted.

In front of the house's gate, the silhouettes of two people stood. Kent. He wasn't alone. A girl stood in front of him. They seemed very close, too close to be just friends. I narrowed my eyes, hoping my vision was playing tricks on me because of exhaustion. But then, Kent’s hand moved. He wasn't saying goodbye. His hand wrapped around the girl's waist with a movement so smooth, so familiar. His fingers pulled the girl’s body closer, leaving no space between them. My world stopped spinning.

I saw Kent’s head tilt down. He leaned in toward the girl's face. Something inside me screamed at me to run, to close my eyes, but my body just froze. Then, their lips met. It wasn't a quick peck or a goodbye kiss. It was a deep kiss, full of an intimacy that caught in my throat until I almost choked on my own spit. The coldness that had been piercing my skin earlier now moved into my chest, spreading to all my organs, freezing my blood in an instant. My grip on the suitcase handle loosened. The metal slipped from my hand, and the suitcase hit the ground with a thud, making a loud sound that echoed through the quiet street. But they didn't turn around. They didn't even notice my presence, as if the world around them no longer existed.

My vision blurred, not because of the water on my face, but because of a real distortion in my head. I saw them laughing, crisp and carefree. Kent kissed the girl's forehead gently, a gesture I had always thought was only mine, only for me.

There was no explosion of anger. There was no scream bursting from my chest. There was only a total emptiness, like a gaping hole being forcibly ripped from inside my heart. Something that had been holding me upright all this time—hope, trust, love—all just collapsed, scattered on the rough asphalt.

All my sacrifices tonight felt like a very cruel joke. I left everything, threw away my family, risked my future, for someone who turned out to have another, more comfortable life. He was the harbor I hoped for, but in reality, he was the canyon waiting for me to fall.

I was no longer thinking about Dad, no longer thinking about the house that had kicked me out, and no longer thinking about where I would go. Everything evaporated. I just stared at the scene in front of me with empty eyes.

Slowly, I turned around. There was no use in calling his name. There was no use in asking for an explanation. That lie already spoke louder than any words he could put together.

I bent down, picking up the handle of my suitcase with a hand that was no longer shaking. It felt incredibly heavy, not because of its contents, but because of the realization that this suitcase was the only thing I owned in the world. I began to step away. Every step felt slower, emptier.

I walked down the increasingly deserted sidewalk, moving away from the house I had briefly made my destination. There was no other destination. There was no place to land. I kept walking, staring straight ahead into the darkness stretching out in front of me, letting my body be swallowed by the night. Without a home, without a harbor, and without a shred of self-respect left. There was only me, the squeaking suitcase, and the silence that was now officially my only friend.