Chapter 4

When he saw that I wasn't saying anything, he kept talking, and his words came faster. "Queenie can't handle that project by herself. I already feel bad making her work overtime during Christmas. Just thinking about it, I can guess that her number will probably..."

"Probably go over 80, right?" I finished for him.

He fell silent.

I stared at the white wall at the end of the hallway.

The wall was perfectly smooth, with no shadows or bumps under the light.

Even though I had already bought a ticket to go home alone, I still felt hurt when I heard him say he wouldn't spend Christmas with my parents.

I still remembered how he had held me around this time last year, resting his chin on top of my head. The tips of his ears had been red.

He had asked when he could officially visit my parents. He had even asked when I planned to make our relationship public.

Back then, I had laughed and teased him for being more impatient than I was.

But now...

I closed my eyes for a moment, then turned around and calmly asked, "Eason, if one day her number gets so high that she wants to sleep with you, would you do it?"

He said nothing.

After a moment, he gave a short laugh, looking shocked by my question.

His voice turned cold. "Wendy, do you even know what you're saying?"

I didn't answer.

"Queenie and I are just boss and employee. She works hard and is always willing to help, but you say she's trying to seduce her boss. I just look after my employee from time to time, and you think I'm cheating on you?"

Was it really only from time to time?

Holding an umbrella for her, driving her to and from work, buying her drinks, bringing her breakfast, giving her luxury gifts...

Those were only the things I had seen. Who knew how much I hadn't seen?

"I was only asking about the number. If that day ever comes, what would you choose?"

He laughed angrily. "You're asking me what if? Then let me ask you a what-if question too. If you weren't so suspicious all the time, would we even be fighting like this today?"

He stepped closer and continued, "Can't you show a little empathy? Put yourself in her shoes. How would a young woman who just started working feel if her boss gave her a hard time every single day?"

I looked up at him. "But you never asked how I felt."

"Because I can see how you feel! Your number is this low. What am I supposed to do? Do you expect me to comfort someone every day when she doesn't even want me to?" he said angrily.

I had known it for a long time.

To him, that number was everything.

"Is it really that hard to give me a straight answer?"

He was still breathing hard. He stared at me for a few seconds. "No! There. Are you happy now?"

He hurried to the door.

After quickly putting on his shoes, he grabbed the two paper bags from the cabinet and slammed them onto the floor. "I'm going on a business trip for two weeks. I won't be back before Christmas."

After opening the door, he warned me, "If you still want to see me back in your hometown, you'd better think carefully about what you're going to do."

He slammed the door so hard that the whole wall seemed to shake.

It took a long time for everything to become quiet again.

I stared at the door for a while before finally turning around.

Maybe it was better that he left.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and opened my hand, then turned it over to look at my palm.

I had been clenching my hand for so long that the color wouldn't return to my palm right away.

It felt a little numb now, but it would get better after a while.

Then I started folding my clothes.

I had lived in this apartment for two years, but everything that belonged to me could fit into a few storage bags.

The next day, I submitted my resignation to the company.

The HR manager came over and joked, "Are you going back home to be a housewife?"

I only smiled. I didn't explain. I just said, "Don't tell him about this yet."

I continued working as usual for the rest of my notice period, so no one noticed anything strange.

On my last day, I used up my remaining vacation days.

During the day, I went to the mall to pick out gifts for my parents.

When I returned to the apartment that evening, there was only one suitcase left to take.

I walked to the door and pressed a few buttons on the electronic lock.

"Fingerprint deleted." The system's soft voice sounded.

I looked back once.

The cushions on the couch were neatly arranged, and the box of fever medicine was still sitting on the table where I had left it.

I left everything he had given me behind. I didn't take a single thing.

I pulled my suitcase outside and gently closed the door behind me.