Chapter 4

The dial tone rang for a long time before the call was finally answered. She asked eagerly, "Amir, have you eaten? How are you feeling?"

I could detect the effort in Amir's voice as he suppressed his anger. "Isabelle, we have a time difference. It's the middle of the night here."

Isabelle looked embarrassed, the apology in her voice unmistakable. "Ah, I'm sorry... Get some good sleep then..."

Amir grunted an "Mhm" and hung up first.

He was always like this, indifferent to her emotional outlets, always cutting her off rudely, just like when they broke up.

He had vanished from the school as if into thin air. Isabelle listened to the unanswered call tone for who knows how long before Amir finally answered lazily.

"We're breaking up. My family is forcing me to study abroad. I won't be coming back."

Before Isabelle could say a word, he hung up.

After that, no matter how many times Isabelle called, it never went through again.

It was only a long time after that Isabelle let go of her obsession with him and allowed me to get closer.

We went abroad for our honeymoon.

Isabelle wasn't really interested in anything; she kept a cold face no matter what we did. Only when we reached a scenic spot and saw many tourists skydiving did she show a hint of an interested smile.

She said to me, "Since we're here, why don't you go skydiving? I'll take your picture."

I was ecstatic inside and agreed immediately.

Even though I knew she just wanted to relive the feeling of when Amir took her skydiving.

On their first date, Amir took her to 'see the world.'

He went skydiving in front of her. How handsome, brave, and positive he was.

Like a beam of sunlight shooting directly into Isabelle's heart.

The doorbell rang, interrupting my memories. Isabelle thought her takeout had arrived.

But when she opened the door, it was an elderly man with graying hair.

I stood behind Isabelle. It was my high school teacher, Micah Phillips.

Back in high school, Micah once had a sudden illness in the office. I found him in time and got him to the hospital, saving his life.

After that, he treated me like a half-son.

Later, I left that small town. Apart from visiting him once each year during Christmas, we hardly saw each other.

I never thought the next time we'd meet would be separated by life and death.

I turned away, sobbing quietly.

Micah, hunched over, peered into the house. "Isabelle, is Reagan home? I haven't seen him in so long.

"I brought you some local specialties from the countryside. They're much more nutritious than what you buy in city supermarkets."

Isabelle crossed her arms, blocking the doorway, her tone faintly displeased. "He's not home. He went to work abroad."

Micah's already weathered face wrinkled further, filled with confusion. "Why didn't he tell me? Which country did he go to? When will he be back?"

Isabelle replied without hesitation, "Ofceyasland. At least three to five years, maybe even decades. You don't need to come looking for him anymore. He won't be returning to the countryside."

Micah stamped his foot in anxiety. "Oh dear, how could that boy just run off to Ofceyasland and leave you alone? How could you agree to let him go? I see on TV the conditions there are terrible! What if he gets sick and can't take care of himself?

"He never was one to talk much. Won't he get depressed over there?"

Isabelle snapped back impatiently at Micah, "What, is he helpless or something? I prefer living alone; I don't need him. He's just changing locations; you think he can't survive?

"He doesn't like talking; he'll be more at ease in Ofceyasland. Less need to worry about how to interact with people all day."

As soon as she finished speaking, the delivery driver arrived with the takeout. "Hello, are you Ms. George? Here's your order."

Micah saw Isabelle take the food and, tilting his head, noticed the pile of takeout trash in the corner by the door.

Isabelle looked somewhat guilty, using her foot to kick the trash deeper into the corner. "Anyway, he's not here. I have things to do. You should go back."

Micah was left speechless. He tremblingly held out the local specialties. "Alright, I'll go, I'll go. Take these to eat."

Isabelle took them and immediately closed the door.

She was starving and started wolfing down the food as soon as she opened the container.

After one bite, she spat it back into the bowl. "They put celery in this! Disgusting!"

She threw down the fork and went to check the freezer.

Inside was half a box of Empanadas I had made, Isabelle's favorite.

Her eyes lit up as if she'd found treasure, but when she opened the box, she found the Empanadas had moldered.

Angrily, she threw all the local specialties into my room and yelled at the air, "Why do you always have to play the good guy? Even dead you're trying to make me miserable."