Chapter 4
1208 Words
The Smith family officially announced that the wedding would proceed as scheduled.
The accompanying photo showed the Crystal Hall at the Grand Plaza Hotel. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the domed ceiling, the flower wall was already fully built, and the red carpet stretched from the entrance all the way to the main stage.
The photo Felix and I had taken together three years ago was placed right in the center of the promotional image.
In the photo, I leaned against his shoulder, smiling like a fool.
The caption read:
October 18th, you are cordially invited to witness our love.
The comments section was flooded with blessings.
A: [Mr. Smith is so deeply devoted.]
B: [Seven years of love finally coming to a perfect end.]
C: [The bride is so incredibly happy.]
D: [High society romance is honestly the best to watch.]
I sat on the floor of my short-term rental, staring at that image.
The ceiling of the rental room was leaking, and water drops splashed into a plastic basin. Mold bloomed in the corners of the walls, the windows didn't close tightly, and the night wind pushed its way through the cracks.
I spread the debt sheet across my lap.
The penalty clause: 1.2 million dollars.
Rent: 1,200 dollars.
Food: 20 dollars a day.
Printing materials: 36 dollars.
Before my phone service was cut, I still owed 180 dollars.
I calculated on the paper—if I took on three tutoring jobs and worked the night shift at a convenience store on weekends, without eating or drinking a single thing, it would still take me more than eight years to pay it off.
Eight years.
I stared at that number and suddenly laughed out forth.
Felix had asked me what I had left besides him.
Now I knew.
I still had debt.
And I had a path that they had blocked until it was narrow beyond belief.
My phone lit up again.
It was a photo sent by Shirley.
A sterile operations room. A report sheet sat on the table, showing the second day of embryo cultivation—the status was excellent.
She was standing in front of a mirror wearing a white wedding dress. The waistline was tailored incredibly tight, and the train spread out wide. The design belonged to the exact same series as the one I had shredded.
Another photo showed her sitting in Felix's car. In the reflection of the car window, a man's sleeve was visible.
A dark gray suit.
I recognized it.
That was the exact suit Smith was wearing today.
Shirley sent a line of text.
Shirley: Nancy, I'm going to have a baby very soon.
It was followed by another line.
Shirley: I picked a wedding dress just like yours. You won't mind, right?
I stared at the screen.
The room was freezing, and my hands were colder than the windowsill.
After a long time, I forwarded all three photos to Felix.
I only added a single sentence.
Nancy: Your full life has begun.
After the message successfully sent, I blocked his number and shut off my phone.
I didn't cry.
My tears had already been completely exhausted over the past few days.
At three in the morning, I dragged my suitcase and left the short-term rental.
The landlord was asleep in a small room downstairs, the television still humming loudly with a noisy variety show. The hallway lights were broken, so I felt my way down the handrails, floor by floor.
The wheels of the suitcase rolled over the concrete steps, making a harsh, scraping sound.
Fearing I would wake someone up, I simply picked up the heavy suitcase.
My arms grew numb and sore, but I didn't stop for a single second.
I left three things on the table.
A signed application for a leave of absence from school.
A crumpled wedding itinerary.
And that dossier of evidence.
On the back of the evidence list, I wrote a single sentence:
Felix, don't look for me.
I didn't go to the train station, nor did I go to the airport.
Those places were far too easy to track.
I went to the old south city bus terminal and bought a ticket for the earliest long-distance bus. The ticket agent saw that I was paying purely in cash and glanced at me a couple of times.
I pulled the brim of my hat down lower.
"Liverpool, one ticket."
She tore the ticket and handed it to me.
The sky hadn't turned bright yet, and the bus was filled with sleeping passengers—migrant workers, women cradling infants, and elderly people carrying woven plastic sacks.
I sat in the very last row, wedging my suitcase tightly against my knees.
When the bus drove out of the city limits, the horizon turned a faint white.
I never looked back.
Felix found the short-term rental on the fourth day.
The landlord opened the door for him.
The room was completely empty. The wardrobe was empty. The tabletop was empty. The plastic basin was still left in its original spot, holding half a basin of stagnant water.
The landlord stood to the side, rubbing his hands together.
"That girl left early. She said she didn't want her deposit back. She looked incredibly exhausted, and she didn't say much to me."
Felix walked over to the table.
There was absolutely nothing left on it, except for an experimental schedule taped to the wall. The paper had grown warped from the moisture in the room, its edges curling up.
He reached out and tore it down.
There was handwriting on the back.
He read through it and stood there for a very long time.
The secretary stood at the door, speaking rapidly.
"Mr. Smith, Miss Sterling has already processed her leave of absence from the university, but there are no transfer records. Her phone is disconnected, her bank cards are deactivated, and her transit records only lead to the old bus terminal. After that, she bought a cash ticket, and there is no real-name verification information in the system."
Felix gripped that piece of paper tightly.
The edges of the paper were crushed into deep creases by his fingers.
There were only two lines written on it:
You said your life had my back. But you took my life to patch up someone else's hole.
The secretary didn't dare say another word.
Felix turned around to leave, but his steps halted right at the doorway.
The landlord spoke up cautiously.
"Mr. Smith, that girl owed me three days of rent, but I don't want it anymore. When she left, she placed the utility money on the table—twenty-six dollars, counted out perfectly."
Felix's throat tightened.
He drew a card from his wallet and extended it.
The landlord didn't dare accept it.
"She explicitly said... don't let anyone pay on her behalf."
Felix's hand hovered frozen in midair.
After a long pause, he pulled the card back.
The sky outside was overcast, and a cold wind began to blow through the city streets.
The wedding that was supposed to be blanketed in fresh flowers was already playing on a loop across every commercial advertising screen in the city.
But the bride was gone.
- Writer
