After my father died in the accident, my mother fell into a severe depression.
In the end she couldn't pull through. On her deathbed she gripped my hand, telling me she was sorry over and over while she gave me her final wish.
She wanted the pocket watch that had sealed her and my father's love buried on the mountaintop where they first met.
Knowing I was about to fulfill her last wish, I couldn't keep the feeling down.
Seeing that my face had softened from the last few days, Monica spoke to me on her own. "I know I was wrong. Please don't keep ignoring me, okay?"
I was leaving tonight. I couldn't be bothered to tangle with her anymore, so I just gave a token nod.
As long as everything went smoothly.
But on the way up we passed an old man selling herbal fruit tea, and Fred's kind heart flared up again.
"Monica, let's buy some herbal tea. Look, it's only a few bucks, really cheap."
Fred pressed his palms together and looked at my girlfriend with a pitiful face. "Monica, come on, let's help the old man out!"
Monica shot me a glance, and when I said nothing, she reached over and pinched Fred's nose.
Her eyes were practically dripping with fondness. "You and that soft heart of yours. Fine, let's get some!"
I didn't say a word and let Fred pick out a big bag, stuffed full.
He put it on the scale. A full two pounds.
Fred asked with a smile, "How much is it, sir?"
Monica already had her phone out, ready to pay.
The kindly old man Fred saw grinned. "Three thousand."
Monica froze mid-payment.
Her family was comfortable enough, middle class, but there was no way she'd drop three thousand on cheap, badly made fruit tea.
"Three thousand! Are you kidding me?"
Fred's voice shot up.
The old man tapped his price sign, annoyed. "Three bucks a gram. Clearly marked."
Fred's face went red as he held it in, and Monica didn't look much better.
But they were civilized people, and you couldn't get a peep out of them if you beat them with a stick.
Monica looked at me for help. I looked up at the sky.
The moment they didn't want to pay, a few thuggish men closed in around them. "What are you two trying to pull?"
Strangers in a strange place, they didn't want trouble.
Monica ground her teeth, glaring at me. "You're just going to stand there?"
I gave a soft "oh" and nodded. "Let it go. It's not easy for him either."
The color drained from Monica's face. She hadn't expected me to still be angry, and now she was furious and frantic at once.
The old man nodded. "The young man's the generous one. This girlfriend of yours doesn't deserve you."
I let out a snort of a laugh.
Monica had no choice but to hold her nose and pay.
Fred didn't dare say another word the rest of the way, and Monica kept her face dark, ignoring both the junior and me.
Not until we reached the summit did I carefully take a red cloth out from against my chest.
Gently, I unfolded the cloth a little at a time.
It was the only keepsake I had of my parents, and one of the few things my mother had left in this world.
But when I peeled back the last layer of red cloth, my face froze.
The pocket watch wasn't inside. There was only a bottle cap from a water bottle.
Fred burst out laughing. "Logan, you carried a bottle cap all the way up the mountain like it was made of gold?"
My mind went blank. Before the trip, I'd checked three times to make sure everything was there.
The whole way, only Monica and Fred had been able to touch my luggage.
I turned my head and, without the slightest hesitation, clamped my hand around Fred's throat.
He shrieked, and I pinned him hard against the railing, my eyes bloodshot as I demanded, "Where's my pocket watch?"
"I—I don't know."
Monica clearly hadn't expected me to react like this. "Don't do anything stupid, you could kill him."
My grip tightened, bit by bit. "I'll ask you one more time. Where's my pocket watch?"
Shaking, Fred fished the pocket watch out of his pocket and handed it to me.
My tears broke loose, spilling over before I could stop them.
I clutched the pocket watch I'd gotten back, terrified of losing it again.
And Monica lost her temper. She pointed at me and screamed, "Are you sick? You nearly killed Fred over some dead people's junk."
I ignored her and opened the pocket watch to check it.
The second I opened it, I froze.
The photo of my parents inside had been scribbled all over with a pen.
A mustache drawn on my gentle mother. Black eyes ringed around my father.
I couldn't hold it in anymore and broke into loud, racking sobs.
Monica stared at me like I was a lunatic. "Is it really worth all this? It's not like this is the only photo you have. Fred didn't mean it. If you—"
Slap. Without a moment's hesitation, I struck her hard across the face.
I knelt on the ground, crying, and dug at the dirt with my bare hands, letting the grit tear my fingers until they bled.
"Logan..." Monica hesitated for a moment and moved to comfort me, but I shoved her away.
Her temper flared all at once. "Fine. Your dead parents' things matter most. We'll get out of your sight."
With that, she took the sulking Fred by the hand and left.
I dug at the hole on the summit for a long time and finally buried my parents' pocket watch.
Both my hands were shaking, blood and mud packed under my nails.
I said quietly, "Thank you, Mom, Dad, for looking out for me one last time."
For helping me see, once and for all, that five years of love had been a joke.
I went back to the hotel for my luggage, took a cab to the airport, and shut off my phone and slept, all in one motion.
Monica still thought I was just sulking. She deliberately packed dinner for two and brought it back to the hotel.
She pushed open the door, looked at the empty room, and something tightened in her chest for no reason.
A panic of losing me crept up on her, but then she smiled and shook her head.
Five years together. How could that be?
But when she saw clearly what was sitting on the nightstand, the color drained from her face all at once.
