The morning felt unusually long as I finished the last of the bitter herbal concoction and received the infusion recommended by the healer. My head swam with dizziness, and even a few steps left me shaky, almost toppling over.
I picked up my phone to check for any messages from Isaac, a small part of me still hoping he had at least sent a word. But my heart sank when the screen remained empty—no updates, no questions about my condition, not even a single text showing he cared.
With a deep breath, I decided to call him despite the growing unease in my chest. I didn’t want any assumptions or miscommunications to pile up between us. When he answered and realized I was still in the healer’s care, there was a pause on his end before he spoke.
“Wendy, I’m really sorry. I meant to come back for you after I dropped Candice off, but… she started having stomach cramps, so I had to stay…”
Wait. Did he just say he brought her back home?
Before he could offer more explanation, a voice in the background caught my attention—someone, likely a server, saying clearly, “Sir, your entire meal has been served. Please enjoy.”
I froze. Isaac’s voice turned muffled as he must have covered the speaker in a hurry, but the damage was already done. I had heard enough to understand.
There was a pause. Then I let out a soft breath and replied, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle things on my own.”
Why I said that, I wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps I wanted to spare him guilt, or maybe I was desperately trying to reassure myself that I didn’t need him—that I could do this alone.
As I moved to hang up, he suddenly called out, “Wendy, just go back home. I’ll explain everything later, alright?”
Explain what, exactly? More excuses? Another carefully constructed lie to keep me in place?
I ended the call without saying another word. Then, without waiting any longer, I arranged for a ride back. But when the evening came, Isaac still hadn’t returned.
Sleep didn’t come easily. The muffled sounds outside the window kept dragging me back to reality. I peered out and saw the sky alight with fireworks—someone must have been celebrating something, probably a romantic surprise.
A sharp twist of bitterness tugged at my lips, forming a humorless smile.
Unable to rest, I turned to my tablet and resumed working on a client’s wedding gown sketches. While scrolling through references, my finger brushed against my messaging app, opening it accidentally.
There, right at the top, was Candice’s newest post.
It was an elegant shot of fireworks bursting across the night, with a caption written like a line from a love poem:
“After so many years apart, I’ve finally returned to your side. These fireworks bloom as if the stars themselves are welcoming me back.”
I stared at the screen, mind blank and chest tight. Then, when I attempted to exit the app, I realized that Isaac’s account was still logged in on my device.
I didn’t have the will to dig through any conversations or see more than I should. I quickly logged his account out and turned the device off.
The following morning, I arrived at the office with a clear goal in mind.
The manager handed me the approval letter for my resignation. When I explained my departure was due to an upcoming bond marriage and that I’d be relocating to another territory, her face shifted between joy and sorrow.
“We’re going to miss you dearly. You’ve always been one of the most reliable people on the team.”
Words failed me, so I hugged her tightly, expressing my gratitude for all her guidance and trust over the years.
After wrapping up the paperwork, my coworkers insisted on treating me to a farewell lunch in honor of my new journey. I agreed and suggested a familiar place—one that Isaac and I often went to, where I knew the food would be consistently good.
Halfway through the meal, I excused myself to head to the restroom. But as I rounded the hallway, I bumped into Candice.
Her smile was bright, as if seeing me was the best surprise of her day. “What a surprise! I didn’t expect to see you here. Isaac brought me here too, back when we completed our coming-of-age rites. We’ve visited this place so many times since.”
I returned her smile with a polite one, not really in the mood for conversation. I stepped to the side, intent on leaving quickly.
But just as I was about to walk away, she called out again.
“I noticed something the other day… Isaac always rinses the shrimp in water before peeling them for you. Do you avoid spicy food too?”
Her casual use of the word “too” made me stop in my tracks.
In truth, I enjoyed spicy food. But over time, Isaac had made a habit of washing the shrimp in water before serving them to me, saying spicy flavors weren’t good for my health. I’d accepted it without much thought, assuming he was just thoughtful and looking out for me.
Now it was clear—he wasn’t thinking of me at all.
The one who didn’t like spicy food… the one whose preferences he remembered and cared for… was Candice.
