Chapter 2
I sat there, watching his long fingers scroll through the screen. The pinned chat showed the latest message had been sent five minutes ago.
Emily texted: [Dr. Reed, I am running a fever of 102.2°F. I feel awful, and I'm all alone at home.]
And right above that message was an endless log of history.
It looked nothing like the pathetic, one-sided monologue I usually kept up in his inbox.
I texted: [Simon, the daisy on the roadside bloomed today. They're so beautiful.] I attached a photo.
He replied: [Yeah.]
I texted: [I made your favorite pot roast for dinner tonight. I'll wait for you to come home.]
He replied: [I'm working overtime. Don't wait up.]
I texted: [Our flights are booked for Wednesday at 10 AM. Don't forget to take time off.]
He replied: [Okay.]
Everything with me was brief, cold, and downright dismissive.
But in the chat with Emily, I saw a whole other side of Simon.
Simon replied: [102.2°F? Did you take anything for it? Do you have any cooling pads at home?]
Simon texted: [Emily, try to bring your fever down with some cooling pads. I'm just getting off my shift now. I'll be downstairs at your place in about 20 minutes.]
Simon added: [Don't worry, I'm on my way.]
The whole screen was filled with voice notes and long, thoughtful messages.
Simon, who always kept his words to a minimum with me, was putting his utmost patience and tenderness on full display for another woman.
My heart felt as though it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, aching so badly I could barely catch my breath.
As it turned out, it wasn't that he was a man of few words or that he didn't know how to be romantic, let alone that he was too swamped to even send a single emoji.
The ER lights were always on, and saving lives was his calling. But his fiery warmth was reserved solely for Emily.
Meanwhile, I had been acting like a clown guarding an empty shell, sticking to the script of "he's a doctor, he's busy" and playing out a self-sacrificing drama for two years.
"She has a fever. I need to head over and check on her," Simon said, sliding his phone away and grabbing his jacket from the couch.
His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. "She has a heart condition and lives alone. If the fever takes a turn for the worse, I won't know how to face her parents."
He didn't even look my way, as if I were nothing more than a piece of background furniture.
"Simon." I spoke up to stop him. My voice was so calm it sounded foreign even to me.
He stood in the entryway, his hand resting on the doorknob as he looked back at me. "What is it? I really need to go."
"We're not going to Glacora anymore," I said.
Simon was stunned, like he couldn't process what I'd just said. "What?"
"I canceled the flights and the hotel." I looked at him, my eyes devoid of any hysteria; there was only a dead, heavy silence. "The honeymoon is off. The wedding trip's canceled. Simon, I'm breaking up with you."
Simon's brow furrowed even deeper. He clearly thought I was just being unreasonable.
He said, "Sophie, don't throw a tantrum now. Emily is suffering. I'm a doctor. I can't just stand by and do nothing. As for the trip, we'll talk about it when I get back."
With that, he pulled the door open and strode out.
The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, rattling a speck of dust off the picture frame.
I sat alone in the empty living room, staring at the two printed itineraries on the coffee table.
They were supposed to be our planned getaway. I used to think that as long as we left this city that reeked of antiseptic, as long as it was just the two of us, he would turn back into the Simon I had fallen for.
But now I knew I was wrong. The mountains wouldn't make a sound for you unless there was an avalanche.