Chapter 6

I clutched my soaked suitcase to my chest and crouched under the eaves while calling a locksmith on my phone.

I must have looked just like a stray cat that had been abandoned as I huddled in the corner.

The locksmith rode over on his scooter through the pouring rain. He was drenched as well.

He took one look at the door lock and snapped at me impatiently, “Two hundred dollars.”

I rummaged through all my pockets and pulled out a few crumpled fives and tens.

I counted them twice, then a third time. It was still nowhere near enough.

“Sir, could you... cut me a break?”

The locksmith pulled out his tools and replied in an irritated tone, “This is exactly what ticks me off about people like you.

“You live in this fancy place, and you can’t even scrape together two hundred dollars?”

I stopped talking and lowered my head even more.

I really could not come up with the money.

Michael would never find himself in such a pathetic situation.

His monthly allowance was two thousand dollars, while I had to save up every single penny I had.

The lock mechanism turned a few times, and with a click, the door swung open.

The locksmith straightened up and packed away his tools, then casually asked, “Why are you here all by yourself? Where’s your family?”

My voice dropped to barely a whisper as I replied, “They all went on vacation. They forgot I was still outside.”

The locksmith was stunned for a moment.

He closed his toolbox, brushed his hands off, and said, “Alright, forget it. On the house.”

I was taken aback.

“No, I can’t do that! I should still pay you what I owe.”

“For guys like us who work with our hands, popping a lock is nothing. Consider it a small favor.”

When I looked embarrassed, he locked the door again and quickly pried it open again with his tool.

“See? Locked tight, and now it’s open again. Easy.

“Locked, open. It’s nothing, really.”

The door swung back and forth as he laughed cheerfully.

At that moment, I broke down.

It was as though every tear I’d held back for eighteen years was pouring out all at once.

He scrambled, clearly flustered.

“Hey, come on now... no crying, alright? Get inside and take a hot shower. You’ll catch a cold!”

He gently nudged me through the doorway.

Before he left, he turned back and said, “Next time you need a lock popped, call me. It’ll be on the house.”

I watched him walk away. Then, I sank to the floor, pulled my knees to my chest, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Even a complete stranger had offered me a hand when I was at rock bottom.

Yet my own family, the people who were supposed to have my back, had pushed me out into the rain.

I cried for what felt like hours, until my voice went raw and the sky finally cleared.

When it was over, my heart calmed down.

I went upstairs and began packing my things.

There was not much for me to pack. I only took a few changes of clothes and some essential documents.

When I opened the drawer in the corner, I found the diary I had kept all those years.

Page after page, it was filled with the private thoughts of a younger me.

I had written down every little detail, like the day Brielle handed me a bottle of water in the hallway.

Or the time she called my name during a sports meet.

Or that evening when she had said, “It’s getting dark. Let’s walk home together.”

Those fleeting moments had been recorded with painstaking care, as if I were collecting promises that would never be kept.

When I flipped to the last page, my fingers paused.

There was a drawing of three figures. Me, Michael, and Brielle.

The figures stood in a row, hand-in-hand. A crooked tree sat in the middle, and above their heads hung a round, smiling sun.

I stared at that drawing for a long time.

I felt my breath catch when I noticed a detail.

Even in my own drawing, Michael stood dead center.

I could not take it anymore. I tore the page out of the book.

I ripped it into four pieces, then eight, and then a shower of fragments that scattered across the floor.

Then, I tossed the entire diary into a metal trash bin and lit it with a lighter.

The flames devoured everything. All those painstakingly hoarded moments turned to ash and drifted upward, light and weightless.

I watched them burn to the end.

Then, I turned, grabbed my suitcase, and walked downstairs.

I would never again be the nobody standing on the sidelines of someone else’s life.