Chapter 3

I picked up my phone and dialed a number. "Hi, is this the travel agency? That single suite at the Breeze Island Resort I canceled earlier, is there any way I can book it back? Yes, just for one."

If Simon never cared about me, then from today on, every place I go, every view I see, will have nothing to do with him.

*****

Simon had been gone for two days. By the time he pushed the front door open again, it was already the evening of the third day.

The lights were off. In the dim surroundings, he looked a bit worse for wear, his eyes bloodshot from pulling all-nighters, holding a plastic convenience store bag in his hand.

"Sophie?" he called out, his voice tinged with a hint of hesitation.

I was sitting on the couch, a travel brochure for the Breeze Island Resort spread out over my knees. Hearing his voice, I didn't jump up to greet him like I usually did. I didn't even bother looking up.

He fumbled for the switch and turned on the living room lights, the sudden glare making him squint.

Seeing me still sitting there, he seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

As he changed his shoes, he explained, "Emily's fever broke. It's nothing serious. It was a viral flu that kept flaring up. I was worried, so I stayed with her at the hospital for two days."

He spoke with righteous confidence, as if he were delivering an ordinary work report.

"Yeah," I replied, turning a page of the brochure, my tone as flat as if I were responding to a total stranger.

Simon froze. He clearly hadn't expected this kind of reaction from me.

Normally, even if I were upset, I'd still make him a cup of honey lemon or tearfully ask him why he hadn't picked up his phone.

This dead, unbroken silence brought on a strange, sudden wave of panic in him.

He walked over, tossed a cold sandwich onto the coffee table, and spoke with his usual hint of impatience. "Sophie, can you drop it already? I'm a doctor; saving lives is my calling.

"Emily's burning up and she's got nobody else. If I don't go, who will?"

It was the same old speech.

He always took the moral high ground, ensuring that if I so much as asked one more question, I would be the one acting unreasonable and cold-blooded.

I closed the brochure and finally looked up, letting my calm gaze fall on his face. That handsome face I once knew now felt so distant, almost unfamiliar.

"I'm not making a fuss," I said softly. "And I never stopped you from helping anyone."

"Then what's with the attitude?" He frowned, pointing at the unhatched luggage piled up by the coffee table. "Fine, you canceled the flights, but are we just throwing our whole life away now?

"Was it really worth freezing me out for two days over something like this?"

Looking at how self-righteous he was, I almost wanted to laugh.

In his eyes, my two days of silence, my heartbreak, and my absolute resolve to cut ties with the past were nothing more than me "freezing him out" and "making a fuss."

I stood up, leaving the sandwich he brought back untouched, and looked at him calmly. "Simon, I think enjoying the scenery alone might actually be quite nice."

He was stunned, clearly missing the hidden meaning behind my words, or he simply didn't care to understand.

"What are you even talking about?" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow, so stop bugging me."

With that, he turned and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The room fell back into a dead silence.

Staring at that closed door, the very last ripple of my emotion finally flattened out. As it turned out, once I stopped holding out for his response, his anger, his coldness, and even his so-called "duty" didn't matter to me anymore.

I picked up my phone, the screen light catching my faint smile.

In the chat with the travel agency, I typed out the final confirmation and hit send: [Solo itinerary confirmed. I will be leaving tomorrow.]

Simon, this time, I am truly washing my hands of you.