A little past midnight, I pulled a coat over my shoulders and got up to fetch a cup of warm water from the kitchen.
Passing the study, I caught faint laughter drifting out from inside.
The door hadn't been shut all the way, and through the gap I could see in.
A yellowed, thread-bound book lay open on the desk. It was my feng shui journal.
I'd locked it in the very back of the safe. Somehow Abner had dug it out.
Joyce was tapping a finger against one of the pages, laughing. "Cousin is too funny!"
"Look at this line, 'May you always know smooth roads, and years without harm or calamity.' God, that's cringey."
"Does she actually believe that scribbling a few sappy lines will ward off disaster for you?"
Abner answered her gently. "That's just how her little-girl mind works. She writes all sorts of nonsense to entertain herself."
"Back when I was chasing her, she guarded this thing like a treasure, hid it away. I thought it was something valuable. Turns out it's just a beat-up diary."
Joyce pouted at him. "Then why didn't you chase me instead?"
"I understand you so much better than my cousin does, and I can actually help you with your career."
Abner said, indulgent, "Someone like you? I'd never bear to keep you home, stuck at the stove turning into a worn-out housewife."
"You belong up on a stage, shining, with everyone holding you up."
Joyce asked, "So do you love her?"
Abner was quiet for a few seconds, then let out a soft laugh. "Does love really matter that much?"
"We just muddle through."
I stood outside the door, and my heart sank all the way to the bottom.
He'd married me only because I was a serviceable "wife tool."
I thought of that year in college, when he drove drunk and crashed, car and all, off the overpass.
The doctors all said it looked hopeless. It was me who drew a warding talisman, trading three years of my own fortune for his life.
When I got back, I wrote only one line in my journal: "As long as he's safe, that's enough."
So it turned out that, in his eyes, that was just a sappy little love note.
Last year, when the construction site collapsed, everyone had given up.
I was the one who rushed over through the night, spending half my life's spiritual power to hold on until the rescue team dug him out.
When he came to, all he said was, "I've got a strong fate."
He never once knew. There's no such thing as being born lucky. It was only ever me, quietly giving everything for him.
