Chapter 3

In that moment, a lot of old memories surfaced.

Like the gallery opening during my sophomore year of college.

I ran to every frame shop in the city for Roman, staying up for three days straight until my voice was hoarse.

On opening night, however, it was Clara who stood in front of the exhibition wall, explaining the meaning of each photo to the curator with flawless charm.

The curator praised them as a pair of natural-born partners.

Roman smiled and raised his champagne. "We really do click."

I shrank into a corner, holding a stack of empty frames that had just been taken down.

From beginning to end, he never glanced my way once.

Or the summer of my junior year, when Roman insisted on seeking thrills in cartel territory.

I knew the underground world was chaotic and disorderly. Afraid he would get caught in a crossfire, I spent half a month in advance researching routes, putting together medical kits for him, and even trying to find reliable channels to buy Kevlar vests.

But on the day of departure, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, he said the SUV was full and told me to be a good girl and stay in the safe zone.

I dragged my suitcase and stood rigidly outside the iron gates of his family estate for an entire afternoon.

Until that night, when I saw Clara's post on social media. [The wildest man needs a fearless woman to ride or die with him.]

In the photo, she was sitting in the passenger seat, and Roman had one hand on the steering wheel.

The glow of the setting sun spilled across the sharp angles of his face. He looked incredibly handsome, but he felt more like a stranger than ever before.

And another time, at an internal family celebratory dinner.

A capo from one of the branch crews teased Roman, "Why didn't your little girlfriend come?"

Roman held his wine glass, his tone casual. "She's too soft and can't handle this kind of scene. Even if she came, she wouldn't know what to say."

He said it very lightly, no different from his usual lazy demeanor.

And I was standing right outside the door of the private room at the time, holding the hangover remedy I had made for him.

That night, I ultimately didn't push open that door.

I sent a text saying I wasn't feeling well and went to sleep early.

He didn't reply with a single word of concern.

Looking at these fragmented moments individually, they seemed like trivial, everyday matters.

But as they piled up over time, they felt like a heavy weight pressing against my chest.

Soft, not painful, but suffocating.

The SUV finally pulled into a run-down gas station by the desert highway.

I fought back the nausea and pushed the car door open, my legs feeling so weak the moment they touched the ground that I almost fell over.

The heavy metal music in the cabin was deafening. Roman was leaning his head to look at the candid shots in the camera with Clara, laughing uncontrollably.

I clung to the car door and spoke weakly, "I'm going to the convenience store to buy some motion sickness pills. I'll be quick."

Roman stared at the screen without even turning his head, obviously not having heard a word. Only Clara in the passenger seat glanced at me through the rearview mirror, but she said nothing.

The gas station was crowded with all sorts of travelers. The convenience store was all the way in the back.

I waited in a long line to buy the motion sickness pills and grabbed a bottle of chilled soda water from the cooler while I was at it.

By the time I paid and walked out, the sky over the desert had already started to dim.

Clutching the box of pills and the cold drink in my hands, I walked quickly back to our parking spot.

The spot where the black SUV was originally parked was now completely empty.

I froze. My first reaction was that I was so dizzy I misremembered the spot.

So I walked forward and looked around again.

I walked past pickup trucks and bypassed RVs, but there was no sign of that black SUV.

I stood alone in this run-down truck stop. It reeked of gasoline and was filled with strange, rough-looking men.

That was when my phone rang, and Roman's voice came through the receiver.

"Blair, where did you go?"

My throat tightened, and my voice came out hoarse. "I'm at the gas station. There were too many people in the convenience store, and I just came out."

He seemed to let out a breath on the other end of the line. "Why didn't you get in the car or look for me?"

"I just turned around and the back seat was empty. It scared me to death."

"Blair, you've graduated from college, and you still managed to get yourself lost?"

I was stunned for a moment, then asked in return, "I got out of the car to buy medicine. Did you guys not notice?"

Clara's voice, carrying a hint of mockery, immediately cut in. "I thought she fell asleep in the back seat."

"Roman, we've already raced dozens of miles away. If we turn back now, that perfect sunset at the canyon will be ruined."

Roman lowered his voice. "Blair, stop acting up."

"We're in the middle of nowhere. If we turn around at the next exit and come back, it will delay us by at least two hours. It's too much of a hassle."

"Just hitch a ride on the side of the road, or pay someone to drive you, and come find us at the next canyon exit."

I stood alone in this wilderness truck stop, reeking of gasoline and filled with strange, burly men.

A heavy-duty truck roared past me, kicking up dust that made my eyes sting.

I spoke into the phone, asking, "Roman, are you sure you're not coming back to get me?"

He was silent for a few seconds before his tone turned somewhat agitated. "Can you not make such a big deal out of this?"

"It's not like we left you behind on purpose."

"You're a mature adult. Can't you just hitch a ride over by yourself?"