Chapter 4

I booked the earliest flight out.

Before boarding, I sent Ethan a message: "Family emergency. Going home for a few days."

Read.

No reply.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then turned off my phone.

I pressed my forehead against the window. The glass was ice cold.

Mom's voice kept looping in my head.

"Your father collapsed during a site visit..."

"The doctor said it's not looking good."

I closed my eyes, my fingers clamped around the metal clasp of the seatbelt until my fingertips went numb.

We landed.

I turned my phone back on. Notifications poured in one after another.

A food delivery promo. A bank statement alert. Memes in the work group chat.

Only Ethan's conversation was empty.

Diana had posted on Facebook.

In the photo, she and Ethan stood side by side, champagne glasses in hand, grinning.

The caption read: "My best partner."

I turned my phone face-down on my knee and took a deep breath.

The cab drove straight to the hospital. I ran the whole way in.

At the end of the corridor, Mom sat on the bench outside the operating room.

Hunched over, folded into herself.

Her hair had gone much grayer.

When she saw me, she stood and grabbed my arm, gripping it so tight her knuckles went white.

The light above the operating room was on. The sign on the door read: Surgery in Progress.

She leaned against my shoulder, trembling.

I don't know how long we waited. Then the door opened.

The doctor came out and shook his head.

Mom let out a choked cry, her legs giving way beneath her. A nurse caught her.

I didn't.

Not because I didn't want to. My own knees hit the floor first.

They struck the tile, and I felt nothing.

It hit me all at once. Last month, Mom had called and said Dad kept asking about me, wondering when I was coming home.

I'd been standing in a fitting room at the time, holding up two dresses in front of the mirror, trying to decide which one to wear for Valentine's Day.

I told her, "Next week. Once things settle down, I'll come back next week."

That next week never came.

Before that, Dad had sent me a text. Just four words: "Take care of yourself."

I sent back a sticker. Didn't even bother typing a reply.

I could have come home sooner.

I could have come for summer break, for Thanksgiving, any random weekend.

But I didn't.

I chose to stay in that city to celebrate Valentine's Day with Ethan, to cook soup for him, to wait for him to get off work, to clean his apartment.

I gave all my time to someone who didn't deserve it and left none for the people who mattered most.

When my father died, I didn't even get to say goodbye.

I don't know how long I sat in that corridor.

Finally, I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan's number.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four.

He picked up on the fifth.

A wall of noise crashed through from the other end.

Laughter, glasses clinking, music, and someone in the background yelling for another bottle.

A soft female voice came through the speaker. "Mia? Ethan's talking to the investors right now. What do you need? You can tell me."

It was Diana.

I heard my own voice, perfectly calm, as if nothing had happened.

"Put Ethan on."

A second or two of silence.

Then his voice came through, thick with alcohol and irritation. "What is it?"

"Ethan, my dad..."

"What about him?" He cut me off, speaking fast. "I can't step away right now. Can you stop coming to me with every little—"

In the background, Diana's voice drifted over again. "Ethan, the investors are calling for you. Hurry up."

The line went dead.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Call duration: 23 seconds.

I stared at that number, and everything became clear.

Four years of love, and all it was worth was 23 seconds.

The deliveries, the scarf, the thermos, the dinner, this phone call.

Every single thing had been telling me the same answer. I just hadn't wanted to believe it.

I walked to the window and dialed a number I knew well.

"Convene an emergency board meeting online in thirty minutes."

I paused.

"I have an important announcement."