Chapter 3

That day, I was just walking in the rain, numb and lost, when a kind stranger spotted me and called the police.

When the police officers learned I had no money and no phone, they drove me to the hospital themselves. They even scrounged through their pockets and came up with a little over one hundred dollars in cash for me.

One of them scratched his head, looking embarrassed. "It's all the cash we've got on us. If you're still in a bind, just give me a call."

Through a fresh wave of tears, I thanked them over and over.

In my darkest moment, it was complete strangers who showed me kindness.

The man I had once loved more than anything had left me to fend for myself without a second thought.

I didn't get to see my father one last time.

By the time I sprinted into the hospital, my uncle was standing in the doorway of my father's room. A mixture of disappointment and blame clouded his features.

But when he saw my drenched clothes, my wild hair, and my swollen eyes, the words died on his lips.

Finally, he just sighed and said quietly, "Go see your dad."

I walked into the room on trembling legs and stared at the figure on the bed, whose face was covered by a white sheet.

The hallway was filled with the murmur of passing conversations.

I heard nothing, unable to think about a thing.

After a long, long time, I slowly sank to my knees beside the bed and let out a raw cry.

In the days that followed, I took a leave of absence from work. With my uncle's help, I mechanically made all the arrangements for my father's funeral.

At the cremation, my grandparents, my aunt, and my uncle were all weeping.

I wanted to cry, too, but I couldn't. It was like all my tears had been used up on the day my father died.

When it was all over, I returned to the city.

As I approached my apartment building, I saw Ryan standing by the entrance, holding my things.

My uncle had sent a group text to family and friends announcing my father's passing.

Ryan must have seen it and gotten his number.

But this was the first time he had bothered to show his face.

I took my bag from him with a bitter smile.

It wasn't much, but I hadn't expected that he would fail to bring any of it to the hospital in the first place.

"Sophia," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."

I ignored him and walked past, into the lobby.

He followed me. "Are you taking time off or going back to work?"

"Dropping my stuff, then going to the office."

My voice was flat. I didn't want to talk, but his persistence was grating on my nerves.

"I'll drive you," he offered quickly.

"No, thanks. I'll get an Uber."

He grabbed my hand in panic. "Sophia, I'm sorry. I was wrong that day. Please, don't be angry with me anymore."

I frowned, clearly annoyed. "Don't touch me."

He froze, his voice turning cold. "Sophia, I've already apologized. Are you ever going to let this go?"

I was about to press the elevator button. Instead, I spun around and slapped him across the face.

It was a payback for my bruised arm and scraped elbow.

I looked at him with pure contempt. "Do you enjoy being this pathetic?"

He just stood there, holding his cheek, completely lost.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for my floor, leaving him standing there in a daze as the doors slid shut.

A little while later, there was a soft knock on my door, and I could hear him calling my name in a low voice.

I just ignored it. He didn't dare knock any louder.

After a while, the sound stopped.

I didn't care. After showering, I took a short nap on the couch and got ready to go to the office.

When I opened the door, he was still standing there.

A wave of profound annoyance washed over me.

What was the point of this?

When I needed him, he told me I was being jealous.

Now that I didn't, he was suddenly desperate to be by my side.

It was utterly pointless.

I sighed, staring at him, "Do you remember our anniversary? The one where you were going to propose?"

He immediately brightened. "If you want, I can..."

"Let me finish," I cut him off.

He shut his mouth, watching me with a new caution.

"That day, when Emily called from the rooftop, you left me. We fought when you came back. Do you remember what I told you?"

He stared at me, frowning in concentration. He didn't remember.

I smiled, pulled out my phone, and texted him a single number: [1].

When he read the message, his face went ghostly pale.

"Sophia..." he murmured.

"Now you remember. I told you, 'From this day forward, you have one hundred chances. Every time you abandon me for Emily, I subtract one. When we get to zero, we're done.'"

I let out a weary sigh. "Ryan, you're down to your last chance."

He lunged forward and pulled me into a crushing hug, his voice shaking. "I swear, it won't happen again. Never again.

"Trust me, Sophia! I... I mean it this time!"

Maybe, once, Ryan really did love me.

But that was before Emily knew I existed.

"Okay," I said.

My voice was flat.

It didn't matter to me how he reacted.

He probably wouldn't have time to react anyway.

Emily was calling again.

The moment his screen lit up, Ryan sent the call straight to voicemail, his eyes darting away from mine. "It's... an emergency at work, Sophia."

I just looked at him. "I thought you were driving me to the office."

"Next time. I promise. This is really urgent..."

From my angle, I could see her name on the screen.

Did he know that I knew? Or was he just lying to himself?

I was so tired. I gave a small smile. "Whatever. Just go."

"Don't be like that!" he suddenly shouted. "I said I wouldn't choose her over you again! Why can't you just believe me?!"

I just watched him silently. My calm seemed to unnerve him more than any fight ever could. A flicker of fear in his eyes quickly morphed into anger.

"Can you just stop? Emily and I grew up together. It's normal for me to be worried about her!

"I can give in to you. I can let you have your way when it's not an emergency! But when it matters, can't you just try to be understanding for once?

"Why are you staring at me like that? Say something! Don't play these stupid mind games, making me guess what you're thinking. I'm not in the mood!

"You know what? Fine. I'm done. You can stay here and think about what you've done."