As the fragrant hamburger was placed before Amber, an overwhelming surge of emotions hit her all at once, like a sudden tide pulling her under. The emotions she had kept buried for so long—her hurt, her resentment, her unspoken grief—found their escape in that moment. They rushed out in an uncontrolled flood, flooding her heart and mind.
She gasped for air as if she were drowning, her chest tight and her breath coming in shallow, frantic bursts. The taste of bitterness spread in her mouth, making it impossible to swallow and her stomach twisted in discomfort. Every part of her felt weighted, like a heavy stone lodged in her chest.
It took several long moments for her to regain some semblance of composure. She wiped at her eyes, steadying herself before she reached for the burger again, but this time, it tasted empty. The flavor of the meal was lost beneath the bitterness gnawing at her heart. As she ate, her tears fell unbidden, each drop carrying years of unvoiced sorrow.
Once she finished, Amber bought a bag of sausages and made her way to the lawn to feed the campus cats. It was one of those simple, quiet routines she had once enjoyed—something that had always brought her peace, even when everything around her felt fractured.
The campus cats were well-fed and plump, thanks to the kind-hearted students who had taken it upon themselves to care for them. Beneath the girls' dormitory, a special winter shelter had even been set up, stocked with freeze-dried food and canned meals purchased by the students. The warmth of the campus community was a stark contrast to the cold void Amber felt inside.
The campus was mostly empty—students scattered for the weekend. The teaching buildings were silent, the library still. A blanket of fallen leaves from the five French plane trees covered the ground beneath the dormitory, the autumn air crisp and cool.
Amber walked along the familiar paths she had taken countless times during her university years, her heart heavy with the realization that this would be her last visit. The heat of summer had faded with the arrival of fall and with it, the memories of their youth. She had no desire to cling to what was past—there was nothing left to hold onto.
By the time noon arrived, Calvin had finally remembered Amber. As he drove home, he eagerly pulled out his phone to share his success. He'd caught three fish that day and he couldn't wait to tell her.
Iris had proven to be his lucky charm. Every time he fished alone, he came back empty-handed, but with Iris by his side, he had caught three fish in one trip. He felt an unexplainable sense of triumph, eager to share it with Amber.
He dialed her number. The phone rang three times before being disconnected. The second call went unanswered as well. A third call went straight to voicemail.
An unfamiliar wave of panic crept into Calvin's chest, tightening around his heart. It was a feeling he hadn't had in a long time—not since the day his mother passed away. Calvin was used to being in control, to having everything within his reach. But now, that control seemed to slip from his grasp and he could not shake the growing unease.
Ignoring Iris's voice from the backseat, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, speeding home. When he arrived, the house was eerily quiet. The television was off and something felt off, though he couldn't quite place it at first.
Amber.
His stomach dropped and he rushed into the kitchen, his voice rising with frustration. "Amber, why didn't you answer my calls?"
But there was no answer. Only Florence, who was cleaning the kitchen, looked up in surprise.
"Sir, Madam has already left," Florence said, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Left?" Calvin's voice rose in disbelief. "What do you mean, left? Where could she possibly go? This is her home. Where would she go?"
Florence hesitated before handing him two items— a divorce agreement and a farewell letter Amber had instructed her to give him.
