Chapter 1
Simon's POV:
I watched the 12-second video over and over, stubbornly searching for some tiny detail that would prove me wrong. The orange cat had a nick in its left ear and a ring of white fur around the tip of its tail. When it jumped onto the windowsill, it knocked the red radio beside it askew.
There was no mistake. It was Sunday, the cat Diana had given me.
On Christmas Eve during our first year together, Diana Kessler had wrapped it inside her coat and knocked on my door in the middle of a snowstorm. The tip of her nose was red with cold. Once she stepped inside, she checked her phone before finally smiling.
"Merry Christmas, Simon. Your present couldn't wait until morning."
The kitten poked its head out from her collar and meowed at me. Eyes shining with anticipation, she placed it in my arms. "Let's call him Sunday. Simon, I hope every day of your life feels like the weekend from now on."
I held the cat while she stood on tiptoe to kiss me, the snow in her hair falling down my collar. I could still remember the sudden chill against my skin. But now, staring at her account, I could barely breathe.
I closed the video and scrolled back to the beginning of the post. It had been published an hour ago.
Anonymous Post:
I disliked her the first time we met. Once you've been betrayed, it's hard to believe anyone who promises you forever.
But she really was good to my brother. He has a bad stomach, and she remembers everything he can and can't eat. No matter how late he works, she picks him up. On snowy days, she would rather wait two hours in the parking lot than make him stand outside in the cold.
Her lock screen was always a photo of my brother, and her social media was full of pictures of the two of them. When her friends teased her for going overboard, she asked, "He's my boyfriend. Why shouldn't I show him off?"
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Those acts of love that had once made me feel so secure now hurt more with every line I read.
She remembered everything I was allergic to and always carried stomach medicine in her bag. Whenever we ate out, she asked about every ingredient before I ordered. Once, when I had a stomachache in Redmont in the middle of the night, she caught the earliest flight and came to my hotel room with medicine and hot soup.
I once casually mentioned wanting to see a concert. The tickets were on my pillow the next day. She wasn't religious, yet she went to church with me, lit candles for my parents, and bowed her head in prayer, wishing that I would always be safe.
I had always believed I had found the person who loved me more than anyone else in the world.
My finger hovered over the screen for a long time. I was afraid to keep reading, yet I couldn't bring myself to close the page. In the end, I scrolled down.
Before my brother left on his business trip, he told me, "If you need anything, call Diana. She'll help you." I laughed and said, "I'm not so old that I need your girlfriend looking after me."
During that blizzard, the heat in the apartment broke. The repair company said no one could come until the next day. I also had a fever, and every time I stood up, my vision went black. When I found the number my brother had left me, I hesitated for a long time before finally calling.
She was at my door 30 minutes later with a space heater and hot soup, snow covering her shoulders. She touched my forehead and said, "So even you have days when you can't take care of yourself, Philip."
When she was about to leave that day, I actually didn't want her to go. I lied to myself that it was only because I was sick and wanted some company.
I remembered that night. During our video call, Diana had wrinkled her nose and said, "I just dropped off some medicine for Philip. His face was red with fever, and he still insisted he was fine. Why is he so stubborn? I practically had to force him to finish a bowl of soup."
She talked for a long time, smiling as she spoke. I smiled with her, believing they had finally stopped being at each other's throats.
Before we hung up, I had even made her promise, "He hates asking for help. If he ever calls you, please go to him."
"Of course," she had answered without hesitation.
"Thank you, Diana. I can relax knowing you're looking after him."
Remembering my own words, I was so humiliated I could barely look at the screen.
