Chapter 2
Hank came out holding a white plate, and on it were a few... Well, I couldn't exactly call them blueberry tarts.
They just looked like abstract-shaped purple cookies.
I picked up one and took a bite.
The sweet and tangy blueberry flavor burst across my taste buds.
But then came a bitter, burnt aftertaste I just couldn't ignore.
"So, what do you think?" Hank asked, his eyes bright with hope.
He was like a puppy waiting eagerly to be praised.
"Mr. Bradford," I said, forcing myself to swallow the bite.
I struggled to keep a straight face.
"You didn't just claim you could bake to land me as your client, right?" I teased.
He paused, taken aback for a moment.
Then he took one for himself and bit down, his whole face instantly scrunched up in embarrassment.
"Sorry, I was so caught up watching your reaction just now that I overcooked them," he said sheepishly.
He had actually noticed when I received the message from Jacob earlier.
I just smiled and didn't say a word.
Oddly enough, the heavy, gloomy feeling Jacob's message had planted in me lightened up a bit after eating the failed blueberry tart.
*****
Over the next few days, Jacob's messages came in sporadically.
It felt like he was trying to make up to me.
Or maybe he just wanted to show he hadn't forgotten about me.
Jacob: [Lucia, the aurora here is breathtaking. Next time, you have to see it with me.]
The photo showed a dazzling display of green lights.
But in one corner, one could see the edge of a woman's knitted hat peeking into the shot.
Jacob: [Remember, your stomach's always been weak. Don't skip meals, and don't get so lost in your painting that you forget to eat.]
The message popped up at 2 a.m. local time.
I lay awake in bed, a dull ache twisting in my stomach.
On my nightstand sat a pricey jar of honey he'd sent over before his engagement party, said to help with digestion.
I hadn't even touched it.
Jacob: [Bought you some wool socks—super cozy. You always have freezing hands and feet in winter.]
He even remembered this tiny habit of mine.
But separated by over 4000 miles and a six hour time difference, his concern turned into something distant and cold.
Ironically enough, one morning, Jacob finally managed to get the timing right and FaceTimed me.
On the screen, he was in a hotel room.
He had a bathrobe on and his hair was still wet. Clearly he'd just showered.
"Lucia, have you had breakfast yet?" he asked.
His voice was deliberately gentle.
I was just walking into the living room with a plate of Hank's successful and freshly baked, delicious-smelling blueberry tarts and a glass of milk.
The tablet was still playing the hilarious variety show Hank had recommended.
"Just about to," I said, turning the camera to show the table. "Does the food look good?"
Jacob's smile stiffened for a moment. "Wait, you actually baked these yourself? When did you turn into a baker?"
I blinked at him. Just when I was about to explain, there was a faint knock at the door on his end.
Then came the sound of a soft, unmistakably female voice: "Jacob, are you ready?"
He hurriedly called back in reply.
Then, turning to me, he said, "Enjoy your breakfast. I have to run. Be good, alright?"
The video call ended, cutting off just as quickly as it had started.
I stared at the now-dark screen, then took a bite of the blueberry tart.
The crust flaked apart, the blueberry filling burst with sweet and tangy flavor—it was perfect.
But inside, I felt like suffocating.
No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get rid of that feeling.
I had to give Jacob credit. He always paid attention to every little detail.
From the start, it was our families' business dealings that brought us together.
And then, as we spent more time together, we got closer.
He was always by my side, woven into almost every part of my life, whether it was something important or just the small day-to-day stuff.
Jacob was endlessly patient and gentle, never tired of reminding me about all those things I always managed to forget.
Under his constant, gentle care, I couldn't help but fall for him.
Then, one day, I realized I couldn't imagine my life without him anymore.
If Silvia had never shown up, and before I got the medical report, I never imagined I wouldn't end up with Jacob.
And I never thought I'd have to cut him out of my life completely.
I put up with Silvia causing trouble, and all the snark from everyone else, time after time, just to stay by Jacob's side.
Letting him tug at my heartstrings—it was almost second nature.
I always thought that if I just stayed close to him, one day, Jacob would finally give me his undivided attention.
But he was always busy, always pulled away by something else.
No matter if he was right beside me or thousands of miles apart, it was always the same.
Memories came rushing in, unstoppable, like waves crashing over me.
Last year on my birthday, Jacob swore he'd take me to that art show I'd been dying to see for ages.
I bought the tickets way in advance.
I was so excited—I mapped out every single detail of the day.
But half an hour before we were supposed to head out, Jacob's phone went off.
Silvia's cat was stuck in labor.
Silvia made it sound like a life-or-death emergency, saying she was all alone at home, bawling and completely falling apart.
Jacob clutched his phone, looking at me with a torn, helpless expression.
"Lucia, the cat's a life too, and Silvia's really freaked out right now," Jacob said.
So that day, I ended up going to the art show all alone.
I stared at those vivid, striking paintings, but to me, everything felt washed out—like the whole world had turned gray.
Jacob didn't get to my place until eleven that night.
He showed up with an apology cake and a gift, hoping to make it right.
The cake was sweet but all I could taste was the bitterness underneath.
And there were countless other times.
We'd get halfway through a movie or dinner, only to have it cut short again.