Chapter 2
I drifted into a troubled sleep and dreamed about my childhood with Henry.
We grew up together and were inseparable all through school. He was my best friend, my reliable partner for last-minute homework all-nighters, and the one I'd unashamedly borrow money from for pizza.
In college, he would take a ten-hour train ride just to see me, saving all his money to treat me to nice meals.
During those teenage years, I began to feel the flutter of something more for him.
I still remember that evening after we took our SATs, when we were on the Ferris wheel.
He looked at me, his eyes clear and sincere, and told me he loved me. Then he asked me to be his girlfriend.
The sunset that night was breathtaking, casting a golden glow on his face. He looked utterly happy, intoxicated by the moment despite not having a single drink.
At the very peak of the Ferris wheel, we shared our first kiss and promised we would never betray each other.
That beautiful dream continued into college, until one day, out of nowhere, Jessica Shaw's name began to appear in our conversations.
*****
"Anna... Anna." A voice pulled me from my dream.
Henry looked exhausted, and his eyes filled with guilt when they fell on the cast on my leg.
"I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't realize you were hurt this badly. I brought you some soup. Do you want some now?"
It was already noon. If I'd waited for him to bring me food, I would have starved.
He carried the scent of gardenia perfume, not my fragrance, but Jessica's.
It was a lovely fragrance, but on him, it turned my stomach.
I didn't want to look at him or argue.
When he reached out to touch my head, I turned my face away, weary. "I already ate," I said, my voice flat. "I had ramen. I'm not hungry."
"Anna Lawrence! Are you messing with me?" he snapped. "All I did was check on an old friend. What's with the attitude?"
I stared into his eyes, searching for any shred of concern or tenderness, but found none.
"I'm sorry, Anna. I know you're upset, and I shouldn't have yelled. I'm just tired." His voice softened as if realizing he'd been too harsh.
He tried to pick me up to move me to the couch, but I flinched from his touch.
"That scent on you... it's hers," I said, my voice low. "It turns my stomach. And I'm not your verbal punching bag. Don't shout at me."
My words froze him in place. We stood there, locked in a heavy silence.
Then, his phone buzzed. I didn't need to look to know who it was.
He didn't answer, just silenced it and let out a heavy sigh.
"So you're determined to be difficult today?" he said.
"You think I'm being unreasonable?"
The man before me suddenly felt like a stranger.
The love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at me had vanished completely since Jessica's return.
"Fine. Have it your way," Henry bit out, his voice icy. He turned and walked out without a backward glance.
The door slammed shut, the draft carrying in the cold night air and the lingering trace of gardenia.
He was gone.
Later, I saw a post from Jessica: a picture of a coffee. In the background, I could just make out Henry's figure.
The caption read: [Someone went through the trouble of a 30-minute cab ride to get me a coffee from that place we loved in college!]
A heavy weight settled in my chest, slowing my heartbeat to a dull, painful rhythm.
He would take a cab across town for her coffee, but couldn't be bothered to bring me soup from downstairs.
When did we start to change?
I didn't know for sure.
Maybe it all started when Jessica entered his world.