Evelyn had once been a beacon of kindness and warmth—a girl who wore a tough exterior but had a heart too soft for this world. She would grumble about the stray cats near her house, calling them nuisances, yet secretly leave bowls of food by the gate.
Once, when one of those stray cats died, she buried it under a tree, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She didn’t eat for a whole day afterward.
How could someone who mourned a stray cat now stand indifferent, watching a living, breathing person suffer on the ground?
Christopher’s mind swirled with questions and anger. Had he been the one to ruin her? Had his indulgence and tolerance turned Evelyn into this cold, reckless version of herself?
His chest tightened as he gently laid Charlotte on the floor. Rising, he turned toward Evelyn, his expression dark and oppressive, his voice sharp as steel.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Evelyn looked up at him, her face devoid of emotion and then… she smiled. Not a warm or apologetic smile, but one cold enough to cut through the room like a blade.
The sight made Christopher’s chest burn with fury.
Before he could lash out, a weak voice broke through the tension.
“Brother Christopher… don’t… don’t ask. It was my fault. I slipped…” Charlotte’s words were halting, her breath shallow.
Her feeble attempt at an explanation only fanned the flames of Christopher’s anger. Charlotte was on the verge of death, yet she still defended Evelyn, who stood there with ice in her veins.
It was too much. A firestorm of rage erupted within him, consuming every rational thought.
With a swift motion, his hand rose and the sound of the slap echoed through the room.
“Snap!”
Evelyn stumbled, her head snapping to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t cry out.
Instead, a strange ringing filled her ears, sharp and relentless, as if something inside her had snapped. She reached up, touching her ear in confusion.
Christopher’s voice, sharp and venomous, cut through the haze. “If anything happens to Charlotte, the wedding is off. Do you hear me? Off!”
She heard the words—every syllable—but only in her left ear. Her right ear heard nothing but silence.
Her hand trembled as she covered her left ear, testing her hearing. She played music on her phone, pressing it against her right ear.
Silence.
She was deaf in one ear.
Evelyn froze, her fingers slowly dropping to her side.
How much anger… how much hatred must Christopher have felt to strike her so hard that he robbed her of her hearing?
For a moment, she stood there, dazed, until a bitter smile curled her lips.
It doesn’t matter, she thought. Nothing matters anymore. Deaf? Fine. I wasn’t planning on staying alive much longer anyway.
Without a word, she wiped the blood from her mouth and sat back on the bed. She picked up the book she’d been reading earlier, flipping through its pages as if nothing had happened.
***
An hour later, the book lay finished on her nightstand. Evelyn changed her clothes, grabbed her coat and left the house.
Her surgery was scheduled for the next morning—an operation she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Tonight was all she had left and she intended to use it to revisit the places that had once held meaning.
On her way out, she sent Christopher a single text:
[Goodbye.]
He didn’t reply. Of course, he wouldn’t. He was probably at the hospital, pacing anxiously over Charlotte.
As she trudged through the snow, Evelyn’s thoughts turned dark. For a fleeting moment, she wished Charlotte would die. If Charlotte were gone, there would be no need for the surgery tomorrow.
But the bitterness subsided almost as quickly as it had come. Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. No, it’s better if she survives. I’m the one who should be gone, after all.
The pain in her legs made her stagger, but she kept moving, her footsteps slow and deliberate. Snowflakes fell gently around her, blanketing the city in silence.
***
She passed the movie theater where she and Christopher had gone on their first date. They had sat in the back row, sneaking popcorn and whispering jokes during the previews.
Now, the theater was dark, the doors locked and a closed sign hung in the window. Evelyn lingered there for half an hour, lost in the memories, before moving on.
Her feet carried her to her father’s house, where the lights were still on despite the late hour. It was past one in the morning and yet…
The sight of the warm light stirred something in her chest—a pang of guilt, a sliver of regret. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the call button.
But then she stopped. It was late. She didn’t want to wake him.
Instead, she sent a single text message to both her parents:
[Let’s be a family next time.]
She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send.
***
The city was quiet, the streets empty, as Evelyn wandered aimlessly through the night. Snow crunched beneath her boots, her breath forming pale clouds in the frigid air.
As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, she found herself back at the bridge overlooking the frozen river. She leaned against the railing, watching as the sky shifted from gray to pink.
The world felt still, suspended in that moment between night and day.
Evelyn closed her eyes, letting the cold seep into her skin. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace.
Tomorrow would come. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, she was ready.
Evelyn walked through the quiet streets, her steps slow and measured. The cold bit into her skin, but she didn’t mind.
She paused as she passed her father’s house. The lights were still on. She remembered his habit of staying up late, probably helping her half-siblings with their studies. It reminded her of the times when he had stayed up for her too—once upon a time. But those memories felt distant now, like they belonged to another lifetime.
With a faint smile, she kept walking.
This time, she headed toward her mother’s house.
The house was dark, its windows shadowed against the pale glow of dawn. But even in the dim light, Evelyn could make out the white curtains that adorned her mother’s windows.
Her smile widened, bittersweet and filled with a strange warmth.
Her mother had always wanted white curtains, but her father had vetoed the idea. “They’ll get dirty too quickly,” he had said. “You’ll have a hard time cleaning them.”
Back then, Evelyn hadn’t thought much of it. Her father always seemed so concerned for her mother’s well-being. But now, standing here, she saw it differently.
Why hadn’t her father offered to clean them himself? Why had it always been her mother’s burden to bear?
But now, at least, her mother was free. She had her white curtains and Evelyn was certain there was someone in her life willing to help keep them clean.
Evelyn touched her ears absentmindedly, then turned her back on the house.
“Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad,” she whispered under her breath.
And then, as her steps took her further away, she added softly, “Goodbye, Christopher.”
