Chapter 4

The glow from my computer screen felt harsh in the dimly lit room.

I rubbed my tired eyes and glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. The coffee was cold, and scattered sheets of paper covered in scribbles lay across the desk.

For the third consecutive night, I stayed up late translating the sample chapters of the novel Flora had given me.

"How does Duras write such long sentences?" I muttered, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. One sentence stretched across seven lines, but my shorter translation had lost its lyrical beauty.

In college, I was known for breaking down long sentences. Professors praised how I turned complex structures into the natural target language without losing their meaning.

But over twenty years as a housewife had left that skill badly out of practice.

I saved my work, shut down the computer, then dragged my exhausted body and collapsed onto the bed.

I closed my eyes, but the words lingered, flitting through my mind like restless thoughts I couldn't shake.

In my sleepy haze, I found myself back in the university library. There she was, the girl I used to be, hair in a ponytail, leaning over her desk, completely absorbed in her work, her eyes shining with a love for literature.

The shrill alarm yanked me out of my dream.

I struggled to pry open my eyes. Sunlight was already spilling through the gaps in the curtains.

A new day dawned. I had spent ten days living on my own.

While washing up, I noticed prominent dark circles under my eyes in the mirror, yet my gaze was brighter than I remembered.

It was a strange contradiction. My body was tired, but my mind felt wide awake.

After a quick breakfast, I decided to step out for a walk, hoping to clear my head from the endless swirl of translation.

The early summer sun was warm but gentle. I wandered through the neighborhood park, watching the elderly doing their morning exercises, children at play, and office workers rushing to work.

This simple act of people-watching was a brand-new experience for me. In the past, I was always rushing around, my mind crammed with an endless to-do list. I never had the time to observe passersby.

On my way home, I paused in front of a small stationery shop.

The shop window displayed an array of notebooks and paintbrushes, but one set of watercolor paints stood out prominently.

On a whim, I walked in and bought that set of watercolor paints, a few brushes, and a thick sketchbook.

"Are you taking up painting?" the young cashier asked as she scanned my items.

"No, I'm starting over," I heard myself reply.

*****

Back home with my new art supplies, I couldn't wait to lay them all out on the dining table.

I dipped the brush, mixed the colors, and laid down the first strokes. My movements were clumsy, almost laughable, yet the way the colors bloomed on the paper felt strangely familiar.

Before I knew it, I'd finished a rough still life, a sketch of the water glass on the table, holding wildflowers.

Though my technique was clumsy, the raw vibrancy in the painting unexpectedly warmed my heart.

Just as I was admiring my so-called masterpiece, my phone suddenly rang.

It was Flora.

She got straight to the point and asked, "So, how's the translation coming along?"

"Well..." I glanced at my computer and admitted, "Honestly, it's harder than I thought. I'm out of practice. Words and expressions don't flow like they used to."

"That's normal. It's been over twenty years," Flora said warmly. "Don't worry. The editor's happy to give you more time. She heard you're making a comeback and can't wait to read your work."

"The editor? Can't wait to read my work?" I clutched my phone and asked, surprised. "Flora, you did tell her I haven't done any translation in over twenty years, right?"

"Yeah, I told her," Flora replied nonchalantly. "But she still remembered you. Professor Carter even mentioned you before he retired last year. He said you were one of the most gifted students he'd ever taught."

David Carter was my advisor back in college.

I remember him always in a sharp suit, speaking with a perfect accent, passionately lecturing on literature from the podium.

Just before graduation, he pulled me aside for a private talk and urged me to apply to graduate school.

"You have a gift, Sia. Don't let it go to waste," he said.

How did I reply then?

I remembered. I said I was getting married. Hector insisted I stay in the country.

"Sia? Are you still there?" Flora asked gently, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Yes, I'm listening," I said, taking a deep breath. "Flora, thank you for giving me this chance. I'll do my best. I promise."

After hanging up, I settled back in front of my computer and reopened the half-finished translation document.

This time, I felt my twenty-three-year-old self behind me, the girl who dreamed of literature, watching over my shoulder and quietly suggesting better ways to translate each word.

*****

It wasn't until 3 in the morning that I suddenly realized I hadn't checked WhatsApp all day.

Scrolling through a mountain of unread messages, Hailey's stood out instantly.

The message read: [Mom, are you free this Friday evening? I'd like to bring someone over to meet you.]

Bring someone to meet me? My heart skipped a beat.

Was she dating? I immediately texted back, telling her she was welcome anytime, then just stared blankly at the screen.

"Hailey's already eighteen. Dating is perfectly normal at her age. But as her mother, I can't believe I'm in the dark about her love life."

This realization hit me hard and left me feeling uneasy.

Just as I was lost in thought, my phone rang again.

This time, it was Hector.

"Sia, did Hailey tell you she's bringing her boyfriend home?" he asked, his voice filled with clear displeasure.

"I just got her WhatsApp message," I said, keeping my voice deliberately calm. "What's wrong?"

"That kid? Met him once. He's good-for-nothing," Hector scoffed. "A freshman chasing girls, not serious about studies. Hailey could have gone to a better university if she hadn't gotten distracted her senior year—"

"Hector," I interrupted him, "Hailey is an adult now. She has every right to choose her own friends and romantic partners. Besides, the university she got into is respectable."

"Go on and spoil her then," Hector replied, raising his voice. "You used to be so strict with her when we were together. Now that we're divorced, you're letting her run wild?"

His words were like daggers to my heart.

I had indeed been very strict with the children back then.

I used to check her homework every day, strictly control her online time, and forbid her from dating.

Because back then, I thought that was what a good mother should do.

But now, stepping outside my role as a mother, I began to question whether those methods were right.

"I'm not letting her run wild," I said calmly. "I'm respecting Hailey's choice. I'll get to know the boy properly this Friday, but I won't prejudge him."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

"Fine, have it your way," Hector finally said. "By the way, how are your utilities holding up? Need me to send someone to check?"

"Everything's fine. Thanks for asking," I replied curtly, but a twinge of wariness welled up inside me.

Ever since the divorce, Hector kept finding excuses to meddle in my life. His so-called concern was nothing but a thinly veiled attempt to control me.

*****

After hanging up, I needed some air and stepped outside.

I had just come downstairs when I spotted the building manager posting a notice on the bulletin board.

"Ms. Lynch," he said to me warmly. "Perfect timing running into you. Your water bill for this month is still outstanding."

I froze for a moment before realizing that by "your water bill", he meant my former home.

"I currently live in Building B, Unit 203. The water bill should be auto-deducted from my account," I responded.

He flipped through his paperwork and continued, "My bad, but the water bill for Building B, Unit 203 hasn't been paid either. The system shows last month's payment didn't go through. It might be an issue with your bank account details."

My face flushed with embarrassment instantly.

After living independently, I'd vastly underestimated how complicated these mundane tasks could be.

No wonder Hector had asked about the utilities earlier.

"I'll take care of it right away," I said awkwardly, turning on my heel and hurrying toward the property management office.

After two hours of back-and-forth, I pinpointed the issue. When I first rented the apartment, I had set up direct debits for the utility bills. However, because I was unfamiliar with the process, I missed signing a crucial authorization form.

To make matters worse, with my water bill overdue by more than a month, my water supply had already been placed on the cutoff list.

"If you pay the overdue amount today, your water won't be shut off," the property management staff said matter-of-factly. "Remember to check your account balance at the start of each month from now on."

*****

Stepping out of the property management office, I stood under the blazing sun and suddenly felt a wave of dizziness wash over me.

Even the simplest everyday tasks felt overwhelming to me.

For over twenty years, Hector took care of all external affairs, while my responsibility was managing our household.

Only now did I realize how many basic life skills I had lost because of how we divided responsibilities.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a balance alert from the bank.

When I saw the number, much lower than I expected, my heart dropped.

Although the divorce agreement stipulated that Hector should pay alimony, the paperwork hasn't been finalized yet, so the payment wasn't available for now.

But after covering the deposit, rent, and buying essentials, what little savings I had were nearly gone.