Chapter 1

I had this habit.

Whenever I ate, watched a movie, or took a ride, I'd always leave an empty seat beside me.

I always thought Andrew Hayes would just show up in my city one day and surprise me.

But after three years of long-distance, he never showed up.

So I ended up doing everything alone, trying on wedding dresses, booking the venue, running myself ragged.

My hands were shaking as I texted him.

[I've got a fever, 102.2°F. No medicine at home.]

Half an hour later, he finally replied.

[So?]

[What do you want me to do, grow wings and fly over to bring you medicine?]

[I'm still working on the project proposal. Just order some takeout.]

I was burning up so badly I couldn't even lift my fingers, and before I knew it, I blacked out.

When I came to, my best friend Emily Foster was there, her eyes red, holding a glass of warm water and some medicine to my lips.

"He's only treating you like this because you're always so understanding. If it were me, I would've raised hell by now," Emily said.

Half a month later, Emily came down with a high fever too.

I wanted to rush over and take care of her.

She posted on her social media, along with a photo showing a man's hand holding a spoon.

*****

[Seasonal flu, but thankfully my knight descended from the sky, driving 500 miles overnight just to bring me some Chicken Soup.]

I'd recognize that hand anywhere.

Andrew was still wearing the watch I spent six months saving for.

I finally realized, the empty seat beside me wasn't because he couldn't come.

It was because he never wanted to be there.

If that were the truth, keeping that seat empty any longer was just hurting myself.

*****

I stood outside Emily's apartment, holding a bag of fever reducer.

The door was left slightly ajar, and I could hear Emily's soft, nasally laughter drifting out.

"You drove all the way back overnight? What about the project in Northbridge? Are you really planning to stay in Southport for good?" Emily asked.

Andrew didn't even hesitate.

"I'm dropping it," he said.

"I couldn't stand the thought of you being sick here all alone, so I've already applied for a transfer back to Southport. From now on, we won't have to be apart anymore."

Emily's voice was light and playful. "If Charlotte hears about this, she'll be over the moon."

"I just want you to be happy," Andrew said.

My nails dug into the plastic bag's handle, leaving a pale, bloodless mark on my skin.

Three years ago, I was holding the hospital notice about my mom's condition, grabbing at his sleeve, begging him not to leave, not to make us long-distance.

He just picked up his suitcase and walked away without a backward glance.

"Charlotte, you know how important this promotion is for me. I'm doing this for our future. Can't you be a little more understanding?" he said.

That very night, while he was off chasing his future, my mom passed away. I was left all alone, crying so hard I was shaking all over.

Over the past three years, I'd brought up ending the long-distance thing more times than I could count.

I was even willing to give up my job in Southport, just to be with him.

But he always turned me down.

"Living in Northbridge is way too expensive. If you come here, you'll just hold me back," he said.

"Can't you be a little more understanding? Stop guilt-tripping me with our relationship and messing with my career."

All those dreams about his future and career? They suddenly seemed utterly worthless compared to Emily coming down with a cold.

I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Andrew was sitting by the bed, holding a bowl of soup.

As soon as he saw me, his brows furrowed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

I set the plastic bag of fever reducer on the cabinet.

"I came to see Emily. And, while I'm at it, I thought I'd take a look at the so-called knight who rushed over from 500 miles away," I said.

Emily quickly waved her hands.

"Charlotte, don't be mad at Andrew. I was running a high fever last night and just mentioned it to him without really thinking," she said.

"I honestly didn't expect him to drop everything and rush back here. If it bothers you, I can have him leave right now."

Andrew's face darkened. "You're this sick, and you want me to leave?"

He set the bowl of soup down, keeping a calm facade.

"Charlotte, cut the attitude," he said.

"Emily's your best friend. She's burning up with a 102.2°F fever. Are you really expecting me to just stand by and watch her suffer alone?"

I stared at the bowl of Chicken Soup.

I spent half a month experimenting, trying countless times, before finally writing the recipe down on a note and teaching him how to make it.

He always said the soup in Northbridge just never suited his taste.

Now, he was using the recipe I taught him to take care of someone else.

"Half a month ago, I was burning up with a 102.2°F fever too, and you just told me to order takeout," I said.

Andrew's eyes froze for a split second.

"Didn't you tough it out on your own?" he said.

"Emily's not like you. She's not as independent as you are. Are you really jealous of your own best friend?"

I suddenly realized how pathetic I was for ever texting him for help. I let out a bitter, self-mocking smile.

Andrew relaxed, visibly relieved. "Alright, you smiled, so let's just forget about it. Don't mention it again.

"I've already applied to transfer back to Southport, so you got what you wanted, right? Emily just said she wants some mini cakes, go grab some from West Street."

I walked out without looking back.

My phone buzzed.

"Hey Ms. Reed, the wedding dress you picked is here! When do you want to come check it out?" The wedding dress shop assistant said.

"No, forget it. Just cancel the order," I replied.

I used to think long-distance love was like waiting in an endless line. As long as I kept saving that seat beside me, I believed he'd eventually show up and claim it.

But now I realized, the train only took eight and a half hours to cover 500 miles. It wasn't that he couldn't come back; it was just that his final stop was never meant to be me anymore.

There was no point in waiting anymore.