“Go get the first-aid kit for me.”
When I stayed silent and didn't move, the man seemed to realize something was off.
His brow furrowed, and when he spoke again, irritation had already crept into his voice：
“Are you overthinking things again?”
“Eudora's just my buddy. We're purely friends, nothing more.”
“Besides, if it weren't for saving you back then, I never would've developed separation anxiety disorder. I wouldn't need her around me every second of every day.”
“Do you have any idea how unbearable that feels?”
The same script. Word for word. I'd heard it thousands of times.
If this had been before, I would already be fetching that kit, guilt written all over my face.
When I still said nothing, the man grew visibly anxious. He shot me a displeased glare, then stood and went to get the kit himself.
That left just me and Eudora.
She sprawled across the couch like she owned it, her tone laced with provocation when she spoke：
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Vincent has separation anxiety. He can't be away from me. What am I supposed to do about it?”
“I'm a victim here too, you know.”
She let the words hang.
Then she smiled and winked at me, the challenge in her eyes bare and unhidden.
The doorbell rang. I went to answer it.
“Hello, this is the cake and the food Mr. Weiss ordered. Please check and confirm.”
I stared at the cake in front of me, then turned to look at Vincent. My voice came out soft：
“You remembered that today is my birth……”
“Today is the third anniversary of Eudora's dog passing. Go set up the food and the cake.”
“We invited friends over. They'll be here any minute.”
We had spoken at the same time, and his impatient voice swallowed the rest of mine.
I stood frozen.
The cake in my hands felt like it weighed a thousand pounds：
“What did you say?”
Vincent glanced at me with surprise, his tone already edged with impatience：
“What's wrong with you today?”
“You're so slow. I said today is the third anniversary of Eudora's dog. It's an important day. Don't tell me you forgot?”
A sudden, crushing ache seized my chest, my throat locking tight, every emotion I had jammed somewhere between my heart and my mouth with nowhere to go.
Even blinking stung.
The doorbell rang again.
Vincent and Eudora's friends had arrived.
Over a dozen people poured through the door in a noisy wave, shoving gift bags into Vincent's and Eudora's hands.
“Presents for you guys!”
“Didn't you two just do a couples' photoshoot? These frames are perfect. You can put the photos up all over the house.”
“And mine! I had these wine glasses shipped from overseas. They'll be perfect for your cozy nights in!”
“Look at mine, look at mine! I saw this matching pajama set and just knew it was meant for you two!”
Eudora set the gifts aside, leaned into Vincent's arms, and teased with an easy laugh：
“You guys are too sweet. You didn't have to bring anything. Just showing up is enough!”
Her tone was familiar, effortless. She spoke exactly like the woman of this house.
And the most pathetic part?
Not a single person found it strange. They all treated it as perfectly natural.
Even I, after all these years, seemed to have gotten used to Eudora's presence in this home.
An image flashed through my mind: the pair of matching toothbrushes arranged side by side in the bathroom, and my single toothbrush sitting off to the side, alone.
The pair of matching slippers by the front door, and my lone slipper set apart from them.
