Chapter 2

Today was the last night I would be staying in our rented apartment.

The TV cabinet still held a photo of Sharon and me, taken last year at the beach. She was clad in a white dress, and the sweet smile she had practically lit up her whole face.

As I reached out to flip the photo face-down, my fingers trembled slightly.

My phone kept vibrating and chiming as Sharon bombarded me with seven text messages, three voice messages, and four missed calls.

I neither picked up nor replied to her messages, simply sending her a vague, "I'm busy."

She immediately responded with, "Busy with what? I went to see a supplier today. They produce incredibly beautiful porcelain dinnerware, and I got us some. You'll get to use them at our new house."

I didn't answer. Our new house? That wouldn't happen.

A beat later, she sent me another message. "Why aren't you answering me? Are you angry again? Simon, don't be like that. Danny has been so good today. He helped me carry my bag for the entire day, and he even bought me a milkshake. Look!"

She sent me a photo showing a pink-colored milkshake. Written on the side of the cup were the words, "A special treat from Sunshine".

Staring at the photo, I let out a laugh. It felt more like they were using the work trip as a cover for them to go on a romantic getaway.

At eight in the evening, Sharon called me once more. This time, I picked up.

"Simon, you finally answered your phone! What's going on with you? Why didn't you reply to a single one of my messages? I sent so many!"

I stated indifferently, "I was busy cleaning."

She continued to press, "Cleaning what?"

"Some old stuff."

Sharon was silent for two seconds before she spoke up again, this time in a much gentler tone. "Are you still upset over what happened the other day? Didn't I already explain to you? Danny is just a kid and has the temperament of one. Why are you holding a grudge against a kid?"

"A 22-year-old is certainly not a kid."

"Simon Lane!" Her hackles rose once more, and she snapped angrily, "I already said that I would make it up to you once I returned. What else do you want? Should I book a ticket now and fly back earlier than planned?"

"No need. Just focus on your work."

A hint of panic entered her voice at that. "Then stop ignoring my messages, okay? I thought that something had happened to you."

"I'm fine." I was momentarily silent before I continued, "Sharon, let me ask you something."

"Go ahead."

After giving it a few seconds of thought, I questioned, "That day in the private room, when you were feeding him the grape, did you ever think about my predicament or what I would feel?"

There was nothing but silence from the other end of the line for several seconds.

"Simon, you absolutely refuse to let that matter go, huh? I… I honestly wasn't thinking much at the time. Everyone was cheering us on, and all I could think of was how awkward the atmosphere would be if I refused. You didn't see the look in Danny's eyes! If I had refused him, he wouldn't have been able to back out of the situation gracefully and with his dignity intact!"

I sucked in a deep breath. "Alright, I got it. That's it, then."

Again, our call fell into a dead silence. Sharon had clearly realized that something was off about me.

Nonetheless, it wasn't until a minute later that she finally said, "Simon, do you realize just how much of a control freak you seem right now? Just because of a team-building event, you're giving me the cold shoulder and rehashing old arguments!

"You keep hiding yourself away in your shell and refuse to come out! You used to be so happy and outgoing! Just what happened to you that changed you into the way you are now?"

Leaning against the wall, I stared up at the ceiling light. "In the past, I thought that you were mine, so I wasn't able to tolerate anyone else touching you. Now, I understand that, to you, that was me being controlling."

"Well, that's exactly how it is!"

A puff of air huffed from my lips. "Alright, then. From now on, I won't control you anymore."

Sharon was stunned. "What do you mean by that?"

Instead of answering her question directly, I merely laughed softly and replied, "Just focus on your work. We'll talk about it when you return."

After hanging up, I switched my phone to airplane mode.

By Friday, I had finished packing up. A suitcase, a cardboard paper box, and a backpack—that was the extent of my belongings in this city.

Lighting a cigarette, I sat by the shoe cabinet and gazed around at this place that we had called home for the past two years.

Back then, we had to get a new couch, so we went to pick one out together. She had insisted on getting a beige couch, saying that it would brighten the room. However, in less than two months, it had already gotten dirty, and every time she lounged on it with her phone, she would grumble that she must've been blind at the time to pick this color.

The note she had stuck to the fridge a long while back was still there. "Simon, remember to buy milk," was written in her messy yet familiar scrawl.

A moment of thought later, I took the note, folded it neatly, and tucked it into my wallet.

The new place I was renting was located on the east side of the city, in an older, smaller neighborhood. Though I would be staying on the sixth floor in a building that had no lifts, it was still worth it.

Since Sharon would be coming back the day after tomorrow, I had to move into the new apartment by today.