As long as I could get out of this city, the sooner the better.
What Victor didn't know was that while he and Kathleen were off on their so-called research trip, I had already filed a work transfer request with my company.
That city a thousand miles away, the one he'd flown off to, would become the place I settled for good.
Cora Chavez, the cleaner, suddenly came over and asked, "Miss Henson, what should I do with these?"
I stared at the photos, caught off guard for a moment.
Every one of them had been dug out of Victor's drawer in the study.
Most were instant photos, black and white, no lamination, the kind that had clearly been sitting around so long the color had oxidized and faded.
They had some years on them, yet Victor had kept them like treasures.
All because the person in every one of those photos was his junior from school, Kathleen.
The cleaner had come across them while tidying up, and now she looked at me, hesitating to speak, something like pity in her eyes.
"Miss Henson, don't take it too hard. Everyone's got a past, right?"
I knew she meant to comfort me. But there was no need.
"Cora, put these and that pile of Victor's personal things by the door into the parcel pickup locker for now."
"When he's back."
"Have the courier hand them all over to him."
On the surface, Victor and Kathleen had gone out of town for a research trip.
But really, they were out eating, drinking, and having the time of their lives.
One day Disney, the next snapping photos at all the scenic spots.
They worked their way through every good thing to eat and every fun thing to do.
Every post Kathleen put up was a full grid of nine pictures.
Kathleen's father, for his part, clearly had it in mind to push the two of them together.
"Victor, you're my star student. Have you ever thought about carrying on my legacy someday?"
"And taking my daughter while you're at it?"
Victor always declined politely, every single time. He'd say the timing wasn't right, that he was busy with his career, that he just wasn't thinking about that for now.
But out of those thousand and one excuses,
not one of them had ever been that he already had a girlfriend.
Once, that would have stung. I would have complained.
But by now, nothing stirred in me at all.
Since the gentleman was willing and the lady was eager, then I, the girlfriend in the way, might as well step aside and let them have it.
Three days later, just as I'd signed the sale contract and was walking out of the complex,
Victor sent me a message.
"Flight lands at 8 tomorrow night. Come pick me up."
I stared at that text for a long time.
Then I picked up my phone and calmly typed out a few words in reply.
"Sorry, it's not convenient."
Every other time, rain or shine, the second I saw a message from him I'd come scrambling over to pick him up, eager as anything.
So much so that he'd come to take it for granted.
He treated me like free labor.
Even that time I was running a fever of 102, I still forced myself out of bed and drove over, and nearly got into a wreck on the way, almost hitting someone.
The car slammed into a wall, and it set me back.
When Victor heard, he barely reacted, just said flatly,
"I'll just grab a cab over. I've still got things to deal with at the office."
And I, dragging my sick body along, was left to clean up the whole mess from the crash.
Later I passed out, and someone called an ambulance and got me to the hospital.
When Victor heard, all he did was bring a fruit basket to see me.
But that fruit was so familiar. I'd seen it on Kathleen's social media feed.
It was the kind she didn't like.
So Victor had just handed it off to me.
Figures. In his eyes I was always the backup.
Always the one who could come or go and it wouldn't matter.
But this time, I was truly tired.
And I didn't want to play along anymore.
Maybe Victor never saw that text about it not being convenient, because the next day, he messaged again to remind me.
