Chapter 3
Ryan was sitting at his desk, wearing a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms.
He was hunched over, studying something in his hands.
When I looked closer, I realized it was the three sheets of instructions I'd written.
He hadn't just read them. He even had a notebook open next to him.
He'd jotted down comments in his sharp, neat handwriting.
They read: [First: Social anxiety. Analysis: Mostly caused by feeling insecure and lacking confidence. Solution: Set up a regular routine and build up a sense of achievement by finishing simple tasks. Remains to be seen.]
[Second: Sleep. Analysis: Relies on certain items and bedtime stories. Solution: Stick to the usual routine, but slowly add new ways to help relax, like soft music.]
[Third: Diet. Analysis: Being picky is pretty normal for kids. Solution: Making meals look fun will work. Try adding more veggies and slowly increasing the variety.]
And so on.
He actually took my long-winded, dramatic notes and treated them like some kind of battle plan, analyzing every single point and coming up with fixes for each one.
On the screen, it was like Ryan could feel me watching him. He suddenly looked up.
Our eyes met through the screen.
There was a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes.
He quickly glanced away and cleared his throat.
"Alright, it's bedtime," he said to Sophie.
"Alright... Goodnight, Mommy," Sophie replied.
She leaned in and gave the screen a little kiss.
Then the call ended.
I held my phone, staring at the blacked-out screen, and out of nowhere, it felt like something just punched me right in the heart.
My chest felt tight and a little bittersweet.
Ryan always stuck to his own way of doing things, always convinced he was doing the right thing.
He was awkward, but so dead serious that it was almost intimidating.
That was when it hit me that I'd totally forgotten to ask him about the heater.
Whatever, I'd just ask him tomorrow.
The next day, I spent the whole day waiting for Ryan to send me the "mission report".
But he didn't send me anything.
No photos, not even a word.
I finally couldn't take it anymore, so I shot him a message. [How's Sophie doing today?]
There was no response at all.
I tried calling him a few more times, but his phone was still off.
That uneasy feeling hit me again.
This time, it was way stronger than yesterday.
I couldn't take it anymore.
I asked my advisor for leave and grabbed the earliest flight home I could find.
My flight touched down at eleven that night.
I grabbed my suitcase and headed straight for the family apartment complex by cab.
My palms were sweating the whole ride.
I didn't even dare imagine if something had happened to Sophie.
The cab pulled up at the entrance of the complex.
I paid the driver and practically sprinted toward his building.
He lived on the third floor.
I ran up to the building, craning my neck to look up.
His apartment windows were completely dark.
Not a single light was on.
My heart dropped.
I started pounding on the door like a madwoman.
"Ryan! Open up! Ryan!" I shouted.
Still, no answer.
I grabbed my phone, hands shaking so much that I could barely type. Then I was about to call the police.
Just then, the door across opened.
A middle-aged woman poked her head out, looking half-asleep and confused at me.
"Hey, young lady, who are you looking for? Nobody's lived here for ages," the woman asked, squinting at me.
"Ma'am, I'm looking for Ryan Harper. He's my... ex-husband, and my daughter should be with him right now," I said.
"Oh, Mr. Harper." She suddenly got it. "He doesn't live here. This place has been empty for a long time. He's been staying in the military base's temporary dorms with your daughter."
"The military base?" I blurted out, my mind going blank.
"Yeah, he said the kid's still little, and he didn't want her staying alone in the complex. The base is way more lively and safer with all those people around," the neighbor explained.
I thanked her and ran down the stairs.
I knew where the military base was.
It wasn't far from here.
I grabbed a cab and went straight to the base.
The guard at the gate stopped me.
"Excuse me, please show your ID," he said.
"I'm here for Ryan Harper. I'm... his family," I replied.
As I said "family", I couldn't help but feel a bit awkward and unsure.
The guard called in to confirm.
After a moment, he hung up and saluted me.
"Mrs. Harper, Mr. Harper is in Room 301, Building 3. Let me escort you," he said.
Being called Mrs. Harper made my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I followed the young soldier across the quiet parade ground.
The night breeze was chilly against my face.
My heart was pounding.
I couldn't tell if it was just from rushing over, or maybe something else entirely.
The door to Room 301 was slightly ajar, a soft, yellow glow spilling out into the hallway.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It was a simple, no-frills single dorm room.
Just a bed, a desk, and a closet.
The whole place had that cold, minimalist vibe that was so Ryan.
But now, there were a few things in the room that definitely didn't belong to him.
There was a pink play mat on the floor, scattered with building blocks and dolls.
On the desk sat Sophie's bottle and sippy cup.
There was Sophie, curled up under the blanket, sleeping soundly.
She clutched her bunny doll close, her breathing steady and peaceful.
Her cheeks were clear. There was no trace of tears.
Ryan wasn't in the room.
I walked over quietly and gently touched Sophie's forehead.
She wasn't burning up.
I finally let out a sigh of relief, only then realizing my back was soaked with sweat.