Chapter 4
People don't become tough all of a sudden.
It's after you let yourself be vulnerable again and again, and nobody ever catches you, that you finally stop wanting to open up.
Clara came to see me for the first time on the seventh day.
I had gotten off work, carrying hotpot soup base and a pack of beef rolls as I walked into the apartment complex.
She was standing at the entrance of the building.
She was wearing a white dress and white sneakers, holding a child in her arms.
The child was resting on her shoulder, clutching a toy car in his hand.
As soon as Clara saw me, her eyes welled up.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
I glanced at the shopping bag in my hand. "No."
Clara froze.
She probably didn't expect me to skip even the pleasantries.
She bit her lip. 'I know you're upset with me, but I really didn't mean to come between you two.'
'Then why are you here?' I asked.
Her voice softened. "I wanted to let you know, it's not what you think between me and Michael. We had some regrets in the past, but now we're friends."
I nodded. "Friends sharing a place, huh?"
Her face went pale.
Clara said, "I'm raising my kid on my own, and when I first got back, I didn't have anywhere to stay. Michael was letting me crash for a few days."
"Would a hotel really turn you away?" I shot back.
Her tears fell instantly.
The kid looked up at me and whispered, "Auntie, please don't scold my mom."
I looked down at him.
It's not the kid's fault.
The real problem is the adults using him as a shield.
I pulled a yogurt out of the bag and offered it to him.
He didn't take it, but instead looked up at Clara.
Clara's tears streamed down even harder. "You don't have to do this. You're making me look pathetic."
I took the yogurt back.
"Wasn't it awkward, standing at my door with your kid, waiting for me?" I shot back.
Her expression froze.
then, the elevator doors slid open.
Michael burst out of the elevator, saw the scene, and instantly stepped in front of Clara, shielding her.
"What are you doing?" Michael demanded.
I swung the beef rolls in my hand and stared at him.
"I'm heading home for hotpot," I said.
He shot a look at Clara's tear-stained face, his expression turning cold.
"She's not feeling well. Don't push her," he said.
"Who told her to come here?" I asked.
Clara gently tugged at his sleeve. "Don't blame her, it was my idea to come and explain."
He turned back to reassure her. "I know."
Watching them made my teeth ache.
I walked around them and headed inside.
Michael reached out, blocking my path. "Don't you think you owe someone an apology?"
I stopped.
"Who am I supposed to apologize to?" I shot back.
"Her," Michael said.
I stared at him, then let out a laugh.
"Fine," I replied.
Michael blinked, caught off guard.
Clara froze, too.
I turned to Clara and said, "Sorry for crashing your perfect little family moment right outside my place."
Michael's face darkened instantly.
"Do you have to talk like that?" he snapped.
I looked up at him. "What, you want me to wish you two a fairy-tale ending? Sorry, didn't you say I'm not allowed to write about stuff like that?"