Chapter 4

The calendar on the desk, with that big red circle I'd drawn, sat there in silence. The tenth mark glared at me in the morning light.

Seventeen days left.

I set down my bread, picked up my phone, and texted the photographer to cancel the shoot.

The photographer replied with a bunch of question marks, saying the deposit wasn't refundable.

I told him to just keep the deposit.

Then I opened the chat with the wedding company and called off the hotel decorations too.

They asked if I wanted to change the date.

I said no, just cancel everything.

I stared at the message for a few seconds before hitting send.

Next, I sent a message to the florist to cancel the flower order.

I called the bakery and canceled the three-tier wedding cake.

I called the tailor about my custom suit, let him know I wouldn't be collecting it, but I'd still cover the tailoring costs.

Piece by piece, it felt like I was taking apart every piece of the life we'd planned together for months.

With every brick I removed, a fresh wave of pain washed over me.

But if I was going to tear it down, I had to make sure not a single trace remained.

Just as I finished, my phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram.

Andrew had posted nine photos.

Anna was in a white dress, standing on a rocky beach, her skirt fluttering in the wind.

Andrew stood beside her in a suit, reaching out to shield her from the breeze.

There was only one line of caption.

"No regrets in this life."

The comments were flooded with congratulations.

One of our mutual friends commented: [Who's the lucky girl?]

Andrew just replied with a smiley face, not saying anything else.

Anna had liked the post.

I zoomed in on one of the photos.

That dress wasn't just some generic rental from a bridal studio.

It was the one I'd helped Anna pick out only a month ago.

I remember it so clearly. That day at the bridal shop, Anna didn't seem interested in any of the dresses. I pointed at this one and said, "White suits you best."

She didn't say if she liked it or not.

I figured she just didn't care.

And now, she was wearing that dress, with Andrew right there next to her.

I closed the photo.

Then I muted Andrew's posts.

I didn't want to see any more.

For the next few days, Anna didn't come home.

I didn't try to contact her either.

Her suitcase was gone from the closet since two days ago, so I guessed she'd already headed to Silverlake.

The house felt empty, just me by myself.

After twelve years, I thought I was used to being alone. But somehow, the silence these past few days felt even harder to bear.

I tidied up the house, carefully packing all of Anna's clothes and personal items into a cardboard box and sealing it shut.

Then I went to the bank and moved her share out of our joint account.

And then there was the house we were supposed to live in together.

Three years ago, I used up all my savings for the down payment, and we put both our names on the deed.

I called a lawyer to ask about the transfer process.

The lawyer asked if this was about splitting assets after a divorce.

I told him no, we weren't even married yet.

He paused for a few seconds and said I should really think it through.

I was sure about it.

More sure than ever.

On the eighth day, Anna sent me a photo from Silverlake.

She and Andrew were standing at the overlook on Mount Hakodate, the city lights sparkling behind them.

She was bundled up in a thick coat, wearing a scarf I'd never seen before, and she looked genuinely happy.

There was a message under the photo.

Anna: Ethan, Andrew gave me this scarf. What do you think of it?

I stared at that message for a long time.

We'd been together five years, and every scarf, glove, bag, or piece of jewelry I gave her, she just stuffed them in the bottom of her closet, never touched them.

I asked her once why she never used any of it. She said she just didn't like wearing gifts from other people.

But now, she's got Andrew's scarf wrapped around her neck, and she even took a picture and sent it to me.

Was it just random, or did she want me to know?

I didn't want to guess anymore.

I replied with just two words: Looks good.

Then I set my phone down.

Each day, the numbers on my calendar ticked down.

Twelve days left.

I started preparing to hand over my work.

I was working in R&D at a biopharma company, leading a small team of three on a new molecular targeting project.

When my two teammates heard I was leaving, they both tried to convince me to stay.

"If you just stick with this project for another six months, you'll see real results. If you quit now, you're just letting someone else take all the credit," one of them said.

I knew that.

But there was nothing left in this city worth staying for.

George team was overseas, and their focus was on targeted cancer therapies.

Sometimes it felt like fate was just pushing me forward.

The woman I'd loved for twelve years was about to have a child with another man, who supposedly had a brain tumor.

And me? I was about to start researching how to cure cancer.

Was that supposed to be ironic or just plain funny? I couldn't even tell anymore.

That night, after I'd pretty much wrapped up the handover at work, Anna finally came back.

The hallway light flicked on as she dragged her suitcase inside, her face still glowing with the excitement of her trip.

"Silverlake was so much fun. Next time, let's go together," she said.

I was sitting in the living room chair, holding a cup of coffee that had gone cold.

"Sure," I replied.

But there wouldn't be a next time.