The day before my birthday, Hector Tyler asked me, with reddened eyes, “It’s almost my birthday. Is she really not coming back?”
I wanted to celebrate my birthday too, but I didn’t dare say it out loud.
Hector wouldn’t stay with me on my birthday—he probably wished I would disappear altogether. The person he truly loved, his first love, was my second personality. She could only appear if I wasn’t there.
Later, I decided to undergo personality removal surgery.
I died, in a way. Yet, Hector searched for me like a madman for three years.
——
“Is she really not coming back?”
Hector asked me again.
This question had become his refrain ever since I woke up. I stayed silent.
He wasn’t looking for someone else. He was searching for my second personality, the one who emerged out of nowhere after I was struck by a car.
If she returned, what would happen to me? Would I vanish completely?
But wasn’t it her who had stolen my place in the first place?
Even though I had answered this question countless times, Hector still wouldn’t give up. Every few days, he would confirm it again.
Hector sat, staring blankly at the calendar, his eyes filled with an indescribable emptiness and loneliness.
“Tomorrow is Eds Black’s birthday. It’s…”
His voice choked up, leaving the sentence unfinished. I knew what he was going to say: it marked one year since Edna Black had disappeared.
“Hector, it’s my birthday too.”
Those words drained all my strength, but they didn’t even earn me a glance from him.
He merely uttered a soft “hmm.”
I had pursued Hector for four years and been with him for five, but he had never spent a full birthday with me. The day of the accident had been the first time he’d celebrated my birthday. Even then, he left before we could blow out the candles.
“Hector, can’t you at least stay until we blow out the candles and eat the cake? You promised to grant one of my birthday wishes!”
I clung to his clothes, my voice breaking in desperation. “I’ll make my wish now—I wish you’d spend today with me!”
“I told you, there’s an emergency at the company. I need to fly to London, and the driver is already waiting downstairs.”
He pried my hands off him without hesitation, his voice carrying a trace of irritation. “Edna, you should be sensible.”
Sensible.
That word again.
Hector had always told me to be sensible.
When work kept him too busy to celebrate my birthday, he’d say, “Edna, I’m swamped. You should be sensible.”
When his social obligations prevented him from accompanying me to the hospital, he’d promise, “I’ll come by as soon as I can. Be sensible.”
Even when we were together, he said, “Edna, I chose to be with you because you’re sensible. Please stay that way.”
But I didn’t want to be sensible. I just wanted him to stay, even if only long enough to eat cake before leaving.
My nose stung, and mist blurred my eyes.
Perhaps noticing I was about to cry, Hector softened his tone. He slid a card across the table to me. “If you don’t like the gift, you can get something else. There’s no limit.”
I kept my head down, saying nothing.
He scooped up a piece of cake and took a bite. “Happy now?”
“Be good, Eds. I’ll make it up to you when I return.”
Hector rubbed the top of my head with an affectionate gesture. My tears turned into a small, reluctant smile.
For the first time, he’d compromised.
For the first time, he’d called me “Eds” instead of “Edna.”
After Hector left, I noticed something on the floor—his ID card, which was likely dropped by accident when he pulled out the other card.
