Chapter 2

Jeff looked torn, so I shouted again.

Only when Megan coldly told him to stop did he finally pull over.

I got out of the car, but nothing came up.

"Max, what's wrong? If you're not feeling well, let's just go home. We can do dinner another time."

I shook my head. "You two go. It wasn't easy getting that reservation. Don't let it go to waste."

The restaurant was a private supper club. Megan had started trying three months ago, calling in favors through several friends before she finally managed to book a table. There was no way to reschedule.

Yet on my birthday, when we'd waited an hour for a table at a seafood shack, she'd gotten impatient and said it was a waste of time.

In the end, I was the one who gave in, and we ate somewhere else.

Jeff was about to try talking me into it again, but Megan thought I was faking it. She snapped from inside the car, "Forget him. Let's go."

I stood on the curb and watched their car disappear into traffic.

It was a muggy 35 degrees Celsius out, and with all the hot exhaust from the cars on top of that, I could barely breathe.

Another wave of nausea surged up, and this time I finally threw up.

I felt a little better. But just as I was about to stand up, the world suddenly spun, and I collapsed.

"Young man? What's wrong?"

A taxi pulled over. The driver, a middle-aged man, took me to the hospital.

By nine that night, my IV drip still had half a bag left.

Megan called. "Where'd you go? There's no one at the new place or at the rental. Hurry up and come back. We're waiting for you to blow out the candles and have cake. Jeff even got you some takeout from dinner."

I didn't say anything. Neither of us spoke.

"Fine, I'll take you to buy that chair tomorrow, okay? That's what this whole tantrum is about, isn't it?"

Jeff took the phone. "We're seriously worried about you, Max. Megan couldn't even enjoy her dinner."

My lips curled into a mocking smile. "I'm at the hospital. Come pick me up."

"What happened?" His voice turned urgent. "Okay, Megan and I will be right there."

An hour later, Megan called again, absolutely furious. "Max, do you think it's fun jerking people around? You said you're at the hospital, so where are you? Come out here!

"Jeff was so desperate to find you that he slipped on the stairs and fell. He fractured a bone in his hand. Do you know that?!"

I'd told Jeff I was at St. Luke's Hospital, but they'd gone to Riverside Community Hospital, the one closest to home.

Whether he'd misread it or done it on purpose, only he knew.

"Enough, Max! It's bad enough that you're messing with us, but Jeff got badly hurt, and you don't feel the least bit guilty. You won't say one word to ask if he's okay. Instead, you're smearing him with your twisted, petty thoughts!"

I said coolly, "It's enough that you're this worried about him. I'm sure that makes him very happy."

Sure enough, people's hearts can't stand up to being tested.

Or rather, the test itself was pointless. All it did was make me give up on her for good.

Megan and I had set the day to get our marriage license for a week from then, on our anniversary. That was probably why Jeff felt he couldn't wait any longer.

Back in college, Megan and I had been in the same research group. For me, it was love at first sight. I slowly worked my way closer and pursued her for half a year.

Jeff was a year below us. He did his thesis project under our advisor, who put me in charge of mentoring him.

He was smart and modest, and he brought us coffee every time he came to the lab. Afterward, the three of us would go eat in the cafeteria together, and he always insisted on paying with his meal card.

Later, he got admitted straight into our group as a grad student. We ran experiments and played video games together every day, and the three of us grew even closer.

Our classmates teased him for being a third wheel, asking why he kept squeezing in between the lovebirds.

He just laughed. "I'm just like their little brother. They don't mind me, so what are you all fussing about?"

But honestly, he knew where the line was. He showed up when he should, and when it was time to make himself scarce, he never actually got in the way.

After graduation, we didn't work together and couldn't see each other every day, but whenever we had time, we got dinner.

Things started getting complicated about two years ago.

Jeff's mom had passed away. He was in a bad place and got drunk at a bar. He called me, but I was away on a business trip, so I asked Megan to go pick him up.

Late that night, just as I'd finished a PowerPoint, Jeff sent me a message out of nowhere.

Jeff: [I'm sorry.]

He unsent it immediately and followed it up with a drunk, queasy-face emoji.

When I got back and Megan brought it up, she didn't look quite natural either.

My heart sank, and panic set in. I didn't know how to bring it up, and I was too scared to dig any deeper.

The very next day, Jeff said he'd applied for an overseas assignment, at least a year abroad. "Mom would want me to pull myself together. My career's what matters most."

I swallowed that thorn whole.

Half a year ago, Jeff came back to the country and rented the place across the hall from our new home. "We get to be neighbors again! Aren't you excited? I can even help you keep an eye on the renovations."

Instead, he kept an eye on my girlfriend until he'd stolen her away.

I sent the resignation letter I'd drafted to my boss, Arthur Ballmer.

He called me right away and asked one blunt question. "What's the real reason?"

"A breakup. I want to leave the city," I answered simply.

He paused for two seconds. "Use up the rest of your annual leave first. In three months, you're coming with me to Candra City."

"Thank you, Mr. Ballmer."