Chapter 2

I got a fever after getting home that night. The AC at the sales office was freezing, and I'd been in the wind by the river. At 2 a.m., I was lying in bed with my body burning up. I was making a wheezing sound.

It was an asthma attack. I struggled to sit up, but my arms and legs felt weak. I pulled to open the drawer of my nightstand. There was nothing here.

I remembered clearly. I had a spare inhaler right here. I searched every drawer, but there was still no sign of the inhaler.

It was getting harder to breathe. It felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs.

I grabbed my phone and called Leon. The phone rang for ages before he finally picked up. The background was loud, music playing, dice rattling against glass, and voices all mixed.

"Nina? Still awake?" Leon said. He sounded like he was in a good mood.

I was gasping for air. Every word I spoke was a struggle. "My...my inhaler...where is it?"

"What inhaler?" Leon asked casually. Then, as if something clicked, he added, "Oh, you mean that spray?"

I could hear Ava giggling in the background. It seemed that she was reaching for Leon's phone.

Leon moved away from her and said, "Ava said her chest was tight lately. She was afraid it might be a heart problem, so I gave her the inhaler just in case. Anyway, you're healthy. Your asthma hardly ever acts up."

My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. "I...got a fever... asthma..." I gasped.

He let out a lazy sigh, with his tone mocking and careless. "Seriously, why are you acting like a kid? Calling me just because you have a fever and want me to fuss over you?

"Come on, just get some pills, bundle up, and sweat it out. You're an adult. Don't be so immature. It's embarrassing." The phone was hung up.

At that moment, I could hear my heart thumping heavily. Each thud felt like a heavy blow. I tumbled off the bed. My knees hit the floor. It hurt like hell.

I crawled toward the living room. Every move I made felt like I was dying. My vision blurred. Black spots were dancing before my eyes.

I reached the landline on the coffee table, my fingers trembling as I punched in 911. As I waited for the call to connect, my phone screen lit up. A notification popped up from my starred contact.

Ava had posted an update. The photo was snapped in a private suite from a bar. Leon had his arm around her, and they were both laughing at the camera. The table was covered with bottles of liquor and fruit platters.

Among that mess, the inhaler was just tossed next to an ashtray, and was covered in cigarette ash.

The caption read: [Feeling so safe with Leon. It's like the air is a gift.]

The sound of the ambulance siren occurred from outside. By the time the paramedics broke in, I had already passed out.

But in my hand, I clung to that photo I'd pulled from my wallet, which I hadn't even gotten the chance to tear up.

It was taken when I was twenty, Leon carrying me up a mountain, saying he'd carry me forever. Now it was nothing but a crumpled, worthless scrap.

It turned out, for Leon, my life-or-death struggle didn't weigh as much as someone else's shallow whim.

The day I left the hospital, Leon didn't show up. I took a cab back to the place I once called home. As soon as I walked in, I could tell something was off.

The slippers by the door had been swapped out for pink ones with pom-poms. There was a strange perfume in the air. It was sickly sweet. Ava was sitting on the sofa, wearing my pajamas and painting her nails.

She didn't get up when I walked in. She just blew on her nails and flashed a smile. "Hey Nina, you're back. Leon said the new house has too much paint, so he told me to stay here for a while. You don't mind, right?"

I ignored her and walked straight to the bedroom. As I walked down the hallway, I stopped. At the end of the hall, there used to be a vintage heirloom screen.

It was the only keepsake my mother left me before she passed away. The screen featured intricate water lilies. My mom spent three years stitching it by hand.

I always considered it the most valuable thing in my home, and I only ever cleaned it with the softest cotton cloth. Now it was gone.

Instead, there was a poorly printed abstract painting. The frame was made of that cheap, tacky gold plastic.

I turned to Ava and asked, "Where's the screen?"

Ava gave me a wide-eyed, innocent look, as if she had no idea what I was talking about.

"Oh, you mean that old thing? I noticed some spots on it, and the colors were so dated. Honestly, it just made me feel weird having it here. Leon said since I didn't like it, he'd have someone take it away."

I rushed down to the basement. The moment I opened the door, a wave of damp, musty air hit me. The screen had been tossed in a pile of junk.

There were a few boxes of expired red wine piled on top of it, along with some golf clubs Leon didn't want anymore.

One of the wooden beams in the frame was snapped, and the water lilies embroidery had a long gash torn through it by something sharp. The silk threads were broken, hanging down in a messy tangle.

There were also a few muddy cat paw prints stamped right on the most delicate petals. I walked over, knelt, and touched the broken threads.

I thought of my mother in her hospital bed, wearing her reading glasses. I could imagine her working through this screen, stitch by stitch.

She used to say, "Nina, this is my wedding gift to you. When you get married, whenever you see it, it'll feel like I'm right there with you."

Footsteps sounded behind me. Leon walked down, with car keys in his hand. After seeing me kneeling on the floor, he frowned. Then he came over and pulled me into his hug from behind.

He pressed his chin against my shoulder, and said lightly, "You're back? Feeling better?"

I stayed still, pointing at the screen lying on the floor.

"Did you do this?" I asked. Leon glanced at the pile of junk, barely giving it a second thought.

Then he said, "Ava said the screen gave her the creeps, like it was haunted or something. Honestly, I thought it was way too old-fashioned anyway. It doesn't fit your vibe anymore." He reached over and turned my face toward the tacky painting.

He continued, "See? With that minimalist painting up, the whole place feels so much brighter. Nina, you gotta look ahead. Those old things just take up space and collect germs. It's bad for your breathing."

I brushed his hand off and stood up. I tightly gripped one small piece from the screen that had been torn off.

"Leon," I said.

I looked at him and continued, "This screen was meant to be my wedding gift."

Leon was fixing his cufflinks. He smiled, then brushed my nose with his finger.

"Out with the old, in with the new. If it matters that much, I'll get you something pricier. I've got my eye on a masterpiece by a renowned artist at the auction. That's something worth keeping."