Chapter 5 · Awakened After Three Years

Chelsea stood up, her voice eerily calm. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Jeffery replied.

She walked upstairs quietly, not because she was worried about disturbing Jeffery, but because she was afraid of stirring up all the hurt and frustration she could barely keep in check.

During her first year of marriage, Chelsea learned her second lesson. She went to the hospital all by herself.

That morning, she woke up feeling dizzy and burning up. She grabbed the thermometer and saw it read 102.6 °F.

After hesitating for a long time, she finally sent Jeffery a message. [I have a fever. 102.6 °F.]

This time, Jeffery replied almost instantly.

Just three words. [Drink more water.]

Chelsea stared at the screen and let out a bitter laugh.

Just as she expected.

She tossed her phone onto the nightstand, got dressed, and called a cab to the hospital.

The ER was packed, and she waited forty minutes in line. When her turn finally came, the doctor asked offhandedly, "Do you have anyone with you?"

She tugged at the corner of her mouth and replied quietly, "No, I'm alone."

She handled everything herself: blood tests, laboratory examinations, IV infusion, and picking up medicine.

While Chelsea was getting her IV, she sat in one of those cold plastic chairs in the emergency room, watching the IV drip, drop by drop, as the chilly medicine seeped through her veins.

Next to her was a senior lady, also sitting alone with her IV.

The senior lady glanced at her and sighed. "No one here with you either, sweetheart?"

"Mm," Chelsea nodded, her eyes turning a little red.

"Me, too," the senior lady said, gently patting Chelsea's hand. "My husband passed away early, and my kids live far away. How about we keep each other company?"

Two strangers, quietly sitting together for two hours in the bustling emergency room. They didn't say much, but the warmth was far greater than anything Jeffery had ever given her.

By the time Chelsea got home after her IV, it was already eight o'clock at night.

The entryway and living room were both dark, the whole apartment feeling like a cold, frozen prison. Jeffery still wasn't home.

She set her medical record on the coffee table, poured herself a glass of water, and sat down on the couch to wait.

She waited until eleven o'clock, when she finally heard the click of the door unlocking.

Jeffery was home.

He spotted the medical record on the coffee table and asked offhandedly, "Did you go to the hospital?"

"Yeah," Jeffery replied.

"What was it?" Jeffery asked.

"Fever," Chelsea said.

"Oh. Go to bed early," Jeffery said.

Then, he headed straight upstairs, not even offering her a cup of water, not a single word of concern.

Chelsea sat on the couch, holding the glass of water. Suddenly, she remembered her wedding day.

The priest had smiled and asked, "Will you marry Jeffery Newsom?" Her smile had lit up her whole face as she answered loudly, "I do."

Back then, she thought "I do" was a vow meant to last forever.

Now she realized it was a line nobody ever took seriously.

By their second year together, Chelsea had learned her third lesson: never expect anything from him.

She stopped expecting him to come home for dinner, stopped expecting him to text her back on time, stopped expecting him to remember her birthday, and stopped expecting him to show even a hint of care.

Expect nothing, and one will never be let down.

Chelsea's birthday was March 12th.

The first year, Jeffery forgot all about it.

The second year, he had his assistant deliver a fancy bouquet of roses with a generic "Happy Birthday" card, no name, no personal note, just like some corporate promo.

The third year, she didn't even bring it up.

On her birthday, she went to a mall alone and bought a tiny plug-in nightlight. Its dim orange glow was enough to softly light up a small patch of the entryway.

Chelsea plugged it into the outlet next to the shoe cabinet.

Someone asked if she bought it for Jeffery, so he could see when he came home late and changed his shoes.

Chelsea smiled and shook her head.

No, it wasn't for Jeffery.

It was for her, not him.

In this cold, loveless house, Chelsea wanted to leave behind a little light that was hers alone.

Even if nobody noticed, even if nobody thanked her.

At least as long as that little lamp was glowing, it was proof she'd been here, proof she was real in this home.

One day in their third year of marriage, Chelsea was tidying up the study when she stumbled upon that drawer.

It was Jeffery's drawer, the one he always kept locked. But for some reason, he'd forgotten to lock it that day.

She was searching for a pen, and as she opened the drawer next to it, she accidentally bumped the usually locked one, causing it to slide open a little.

Chelsea glanced at it instinctively.

And then, she couldn't look away.

There, inside the box, was the Patek Philippe watch Chelsea had pinched pennies for all year to give him on their first anniversary. It was never opened, not even the wrapping paper had been removed.

And all the other gifts she'd given him, birthday presents, Valentine's Day gifts, anniversary gifts, were tossed in that drawer, some still in their shipping boxes, gathering dust.

Chapter 5

Chelsea stood up, her voice eerily calm. "I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Jeffery replied.

She walked upstairs quietly, not because she was worried about disturbing Jeffery, but because she was afraid of stirring up all the hurt and frustration she could barely keep in check.

During her first year of marriage, Chelsea learned her second lesson. She went to the hospital all by herself.

That morning, she woke up feeling dizzy and burning up. She grabbed the thermometer and saw it read 102.6 °F.

After hesitating for a long time, she finally sent Jeffery a message. [I have a fever. 102.6 °F.]

This time, Jeffery replied almost instantly.

Just three words. [Drink more water.]

Chelsea stared at the screen and let out a bitter laugh.

Just as she expected.

She tossed her phone onto the nightstand, got dressed, and called a cab to the hospital.

The ER was packed, and she waited forty minutes in line. When her turn finally came, the doctor asked offhandedly, "Do you have anyone with you?"

She tugged at the corner of her mouth and replied quietly, "No, I'm alone."

She handled everything herself: blood tests, laboratory examinations, IV infusion, and picking up medicine.

While Chelsea was getting her IV, she sat in one of those cold plastic chairs in the emergency room, watching the IV drip, drop by drop, as the chilly medicine seeped through her veins.

Next to her was a senior lady, also sitting alone with her IV.

The senior lady glanced at her and sighed. "No one here with you either, sweetheart?"

"Mm," Chelsea nodded, her eyes turning a little red.

"Me, too," the senior lady said, gently patting Chelsea's hand. "My husband passed away early, and my kids live far away. How about we keep each other company?"

Two strangers, quietly sitting together for two hours in the bustling emergency room. They didn't say much, but the warmth was far greater than anything Jeffery had ever given her.

By the time Chelsea got home after her IV, it was already eight o'clock at night.

The entryway and living room were both dark, the whole apartment feeling like a cold, frozen prison. Jeffery still wasn't home.

She set her medical record on the coffee table, poured herself a glass of water, and sat down on the couch to wait.

She waited until eleven o'clock, when she finally heard the click of the door unlocking.

Jeffery was home.

He spotted the medical record on the coffee table and asked offhandedly, "Did you go to the hospital?"

"Yeah," Jeffery replied.

"What was it?" Jeffery asked.

"Fever," Chelsea said.

"Oh. Go to bed early," Jeffery said.

Then, he headed straight upstairs, not even offering her a cup of water, not a single word of concern.

Chelsea sat on the couch, holding the glass of water. Suddenly, she remembered her wedding day.

The priest had smiled and asked, "Will you marry Jeffery Newsom?" Her smile had lit up her whole face as she answered loudly, "I do."

Back then, she thought "I do" was a vow meant to last forever.

Now she realized it was a line nobody ever took seriously.

By their second year together, Chelsea had learned her third lesson: never expect anything from him.

Expect nothing, and one will never be let down.

Chelsea's birthday was March 12th.

The first year, Jeffery forgot all about it.

The second year, he had his assistant deliver a fancy bouquet of roses with a generic "Happy Birthday" card, no name, no personal note, just like some corporate promo.

The third year, she didn't even bring it up.

On her birthday, she went to a mall alone and bought a tiny plug-in nightlight. Its dim orange glow was enough to softly light up a small patch of the entryway.

Chelsea plugged it into the outlet next to the shoe cabinet.

Someone asked if she bought it for Jeffery, so he could see when he came home late and changed his shoes.

Chelsea smiled and shook her head.

No, it wasn't for Jeffery.

It was for her, not him.

In this cold, loveless house, Chelsea wanted to leave behind a little light that was hers alone.

Even if nobody noticed, even if nobody thanked her.

At least as long as that little lamp was glowing, it was proof she'd been here, proof she was real in this home.

One day in their third year of marriage, Chelsea was tidying up the study when she stumbled upon that drawer.

It was Jeffery's drawer, the one he always kept locked. But for some reason, he'd forgotten to lock it that day.

She was searching for a pen, and as she opened the drawer next to it, she accidentally bumped the usually locked one, causing it to slide open a little.

Chelsea glanced at it instinctively.

And then, she couldn't look away.

There, inside the box, was the Patek Philippe watch Chelsea had pinched pennies for all year to give him on their first anniversary. It was never opened, not even the wrapping paper had been removed.

And all the other gifts she'd given him, birthday presents, Valentine's Day gifts, anniversary gifts, were tossed in that drawer, some still in their shipping boxes, gathering dust.