Chapter 2

The next day was Saturday.

Adrian left early in the morning, claiming he had an urgent client meeting.

Naturally, Nora went with him.

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet.

My phone screen lit up.

An Instagram push notification.

The profile picture was familiar. A candid shot of a man's back.

I recognized that watch.

It was the one Adrian wore every day.

I tapped into the profile.

There weren't many posts, but every single one made me shiver with cold.

The earliest one was from five years ago.

In the photo, two hands wearing matching wedding bands rested on a marriage certificate. The names on the document were strategically covered by a bouquet of flowers, leaving only the blurry edges visible.

The caption read:

"Thank you, Adrian."

Three months ago:

"The firm-sponsored green card finally came through. I'm finally a real New Yorker."

Two months ago:

"A certain someone surprised me with the newest iPhone, saying I deserve the best."

There was a comment underneath.

"Is that woman who keeps clinging to your boyfriend still around?"

Nora had replied:

"Still here. She's been stuck to him for years. Chased him to his dorm with a camera in college, and now chased him all the way to New York. Doesn't she own a mirror? Does she really think she's in his league?"

I stood in the middle of the living room, gripping my phone.

The March sunlight poured in, but the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees.

Nora wasn't wrong.

I was the one who chased Adrian first.

On the first day of freshman year, I was walking down a path on the University of Toronto campus with my camera.

Someone suddenly stepped into my frame.

A crisp white shirt, backlit by the sun.

The moment the shutter clicked, my heart skipped a beat.

After that, I chased him all over campus with my camera.

He was the untouchable star of the law school, admired by everyone.

I was just the girl from the arts program who always had a camera, trailing behind him.

Everyone said I didn't belong in his world.

But I still forced my way into his life with a reckless, burning passion.

The year we graduated, my photography was just taking off. I had won two awards and received commissions from a few magazines.

Then Adrian said he was moving to New York.

I packed my bags immediately and left with him.

He held my hand back then, his eyes slightly red.

"Evelyn, the process in Toronto is all done, just like we talked about. This is the registration certificate. I'll have external counsel handle the immigration paperwork, and we'll submit it as soon as I'm settled in New York."

He handed me that flawless-looking marriage certificate.

I believed him.

I entered New York on a short-term visitor status as a Canadian citizen.

At first, I thought everything would stabilize once the marriage-based immigration application was filed.

But my short-term stay expired, and the application was nowhere to be seen.

Adrian just kept saying they were still preparing the materials and told me not to cause any trouble during a critical time.

So I stayed in New York, my legal status growing more and more precarious.

I wanted to keep doing photography.

But I didn't have stable work authorization, and the photography network in New York was entirely foreign to me.

Once, I managed to book a gig, but because I didn't understand the client's production workflow, I lost the contract.

I came home crying and told him.

Adrian just frowned.

"You haven't even figured out the rules of the industry here, why are you pushing yourself? Stop stressing yourself out over nothing. I'll take care of you."

From then on, he transferred two thousand dollars into my account every month.

Just enough to cover basic survival.

Whenever I wanted to go back to Toronto to visit my family, he would frown.

"I have a critical deal right now. I can't leave."

I said I would go by myself.

He said, "What are you going to do there by yourself? Just wait until I'm done, we'll go together."

That wait lasted five years.

It turned out that "busy," "inconvenient," and "compliance reviews" were never the real reasons.

The real reason was that he never saw me as a partner worthy of respect.

My phone buzzed.

A confirmation text from the clinic for my abortion procedure.

Three days from now.

Chapter 2

The next day was Saturday.

Adrian left early in the morning, claiming he had an urgent client meeting.

Naturally, Nora went with him.

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet.

My phone screen lit up.

An Instagram push notification.

The profile picture was familiar. A candid shot of a man's back.

I recognized that watch.

It was the one Adrian wore every day.

I tapped into the profile.

There weren't many posts, but every single one made me shiver with cold.

The earliest one was from five years ago.

The caption read:

"Thank you, Adrian."

Three months ago:

"The firm-sponsored green card finally came through. I'm finally a real New Yorker."

Two months ago:

"A certain someone surprised me with the newest iPhone, saying I deserve the best."

There was a comment underneath.

"Is that woman who keeps clinging to your boyfriend still around?"

Nora had replied:

I stood in the middle of the living room, gripping my phone.

The March sunlight poured in, but the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees.

Nora wasn't wrong.

I was the one who chased Adrian first.

On the first day of freshman year, I was walking down a path on the University of Toronto campus with my camera.

Someone suddenly stepped into my frame.

A crisp white shirt, backlit by the sun.

The moment the shutter clicked, my heart skipped a beat.

After that, I chased him all over campus with my camera.

He was the untouchable star of the law school, admired by everyone.

I was just the girl from the arts program who always had a camera, trailing behind him.

Everyone said I didn't belong in his world.

But I still forced my way into his life with a reckless, burning passion.

The year we graduated, my photography was just taking off. I had won two awards and received commissions from a few magazines.

Then Adrian said he was moving to New York.

I packed my bags immediately and left with him.

He held my hand back then, his eyes slightly red.

He handed me that flawless-looking marriage certificate.

I believed him.

I entered New York on a short-term visitor status as a Canadian citizen.

At first, I thought everything would stabilize once the marriage-based immigration application was filed.

But my short-term stay expired, and the application was nowhere to be seen.

Adrian just kept saying they were still preparing the materials and told me not to cause any trouble during a critical time.

So I stayed in New York, my legal status growing more and more precarious.

I wanted to keep doing photography.

But I didn't have stable work authorization, and the photography network in New York was entirely foreign to me.

Once, I managed to book a gig, but because I didn't understand the client's production workflow, I lost the contract.

I came home crying and told him.

Adrian just frowned.

"You haven't even figured out the rules of the industry here, why are you pushing yourself? Stop stressing yourself out over nothing. I'll take care of you."

From then on, he transferred two thousand dollars into my account every month.

Just enough to cover basic survival.

Whenever I wanted to go back to Toronto to visit my family, he would frown.

"I have a critical deal right now. I can't leave."

I said I would go by myself.

He said, "What are you going to do there by yourself? Just wait until I'm done, we'll go together."

That wait lasted five years.

It turned out that "busy," "inconvenient," and "compliance reviews" were never the real reasons.

The real reason was that he never saw me as a partner worthy of respect.

My phone buzzed.

A confirmation text from the clinic for my abortion procedure.

Three days from now.