Chapter 3

I had to be extra careful; every time I finished looking through something, I had to put it right back where I found it, always on guard in case Simon showed up unexpectedly.

It was slow going.

When I heard a noise outside, I hurried out of the study.

Simon came home earlier than usual and accidentally kicked over the trash can in the living room.

He looked around, frowning.

Clothes were scattered all over the couch, junk littered the floor, and one could see dust piling up on the table.

"Emily, why haven't you cleaned up these past few days?" he shouted.

He kept up the act, pretending he couldn't see me, yelling a few more times.

I didn't answer, so he grabbed a pen and some paper and put them on the table.

"Emily, you're not being very good today," he said.

"If something's bothering you, just write it down for me, okay?"

Staring at his smug grin, I blurted out, "It's been three years. Where's the antidote?"

He almost answered, but stopped himself at the last second. "Come on, Emily, what's really going on? Just write it down for me."

I snorted coldly and scribbled my question onto the paper.

As soon as he read it, that familiar apologetic look appeared on his face.

"I know you're anxious, Emily, and honestly, so am I, but freaking out won't change anything," Simon said.

"Invisibility is a groundbreaking achievement in science! Back then, before I even finished the project, you went and drank the only sample I had by accident.

"So the antidote isn't something I can whip up overnight. Just hang in there a bit longer, okay? I promise, I won't let you down."

It was always these words that made me blame myself, kept me waiting for him, over and over.

Simon glanced at the clock.

"I came back early to tell you, my old professor and my labmate are crashing here tonight. Cook something and get the guest room ready," he ordered.

"And hurry up and clean this place, alright? I don't want them thinking we're a mess."

If anyone was getting laughed at, it was him, not me.

When Simon finally brought his guests home that night, the place was still a disaster.

Simon stood awkwardly in the doorway, stammering, "Professor Foster, you guys..."

He was too embarrassed to let them in right away.

Jack Sterling, his labmate, joked from behind, "Seriously, Simon? After all this time, this is the grand welcome we get?"

Eugene Foster, the old professor, just laughed it off and tried to smooth things over. "Don't mind the mess. Simon's probably just been swamped lately."

Simon jumped at the chance, scrambling to scoop up all the clothes and junk from the living room and dumping them into the bedroom in a panic.

Then, as if something just occurred to him, he quietly slipped into the kitchen to check things out.

Of course, I hadn't cooked anything for them.

Not only that, but the dishes I'd used these past few days were still piled up on the counter, and the fridge was almost empty.

"Simon, didn't you say you were going to cook for us?" Eugene asked.

At his mentor's question, Simon shot me a look, dead on target.

I knew exactly what he was thinking; he wanted to ask me why I'd let things get this bad.

We started dating back in college, and after graduation, we moved in together.

He was hopeless when it came to chores; couldn't even take care of himself.

He'd always had his parents looking after him, but he said, "At my age, if I still lived with my folks and let them do everything for me, people would think I'm a total loser."

I was an orphan, with no friends to speak of; he was the only one I had.

So, to let him throw himself into his research, I gave up my own promising academic future and dedicated myself to taking care of him, never once going against his wishes.

Even these past three years, when I was invisible.

He wanted to ask me why I stopped taking care of him, why I stopped obeying him.

But all he could do was pretend he couldn't see me, calling out softly, "Emily, are you here?"

I just stared at him, not saying a word.

He started to get anxious. "Emily, are you okay? What's going on?"

So this was what it felt like to be deliberately ignored, just like all those times he pretended not to see me.

"Simon, what are you doing?" Jack called out.

When Simon didn't answer, Jack came into the kitchen.

Simon quickly shut the kitchen door. "Sorry, I've been swamped lately. There's nothing to eat here. Let's just go out for dinner."

"Seriously, Simon? Go out for dinner? I just got off a flight and I'm exhausted, and Professor Foster's not getting any younger. You were the one who invited us to stay over and said you'd cook for us yourself!

"If I'd known this was the plan, we'd have just booked a hotel. We've got a meeting first thing tomorrow, and I just want to get some sleep," Jack complained.