Chapter 6

Rain tapped the window as I sat at my desk, surrounded by dictionaries. On the screen, an unfinished critique waited, the blinking cursor seeming to urge me to continue.

Two weeks after the salon, I had translated a novel praised by the editor-in-chief. My Literary Review article was well received, and Ryan's translation job brought a generous payment—small wins that steadily restored my professional confidence.

My phone buzzed with a text from Hector: [Simon's coming back next week and wants to see you. Lunch on Saturday?]

I stared at the message for a long time. A month after our divorce, Hector still struggled to accept it, often contacting me under the pretense of concern for the kids. I understood, but my resolve was firm. I needed distance to find myself again.

[Okay, send me the time and place.] I replied curtly, then immediately silenced my phone, pushed it aside, and dove back into my work.

*****

The rain had stopped, and sunlight broke through the clouds. On a walk to buy groceries, I noticed roadside wildflowers shining vibrantly, a reminder of my new habit of slowing down and seeing the beauty around me.

At the supermarket, I was comparing prices, something I never used to do. Hector's income had spared me that, but now every penny counted. Just as I debated the pricier strawberries, a familiar voice called out behind me.

"Sia? It's really you."

I turned and saw an elegant middle-aged woman pushing a shopping cart toward me. She was wearing a well-tailored beige trench coat, her hair swept up in a sleek, stylish bun.

"Professor Harris?" I gasped in recognition. Sandy Harris was my former literature professor, now the associate dean of our college.

"What a coincidence," Sandy exclaimed, warmly clasping my hand. "Flora was just talking about you the other day. She said you're back to translating."

I nodded, a wave of shame washing over me. Sandy once had high hopes for me, even writing my recommendation, but I gave it all up for marriage and motherhood.

Sensing my thoughts, Sandy gave my shoulder a gentle pat. "Don't be discouraged," she said. "Life experience isn't wasted. Translators with it often grasp a work's essence better than those with only academic training."

"Thank you for saying that," I said, my voice catching. "The truth is that I just realized what I truly gave up all those years ago."

"It's never too late to start," Sandy said, handing me a card. "We're hosting a literature symposium next month and need translators. The pay is modest, but it's a great professional opportunity. Interested?"

I took the business card, my fingers trembling slightly. "Of course I'm interested. Thank you so much, Professor Harris," I said, my voice trembling with excitement.

"Just call me Sandy," she said with a smile. "A friend at a cultural foundation needs a coordinator for a program. You'd be perfect. Want to send me your resume?"

As I left the supermarket, my shopping bag now held not just a box of strawberries but also a bottle of red wine. Sandy's appearance was like a ray of light, illuminating my path and revealing new possibilities.

Back home, I opened my laptop to update my resume. After two decades as a housewife, my work history felt thin. I listed recent translation and writing projects, along with my ongoing studies and love for literature.

The moment I hit send, I felt strangely free. I didn't care whether I could get the job or not, I'd taken the first step. I declared to the world that I was ready to begin again.

*****

At noon on Saturday, I arrived ten minutes early at the restaurant we'd chosen. Inside, Hector and Simon were already seated. As soon as he saw me, Simon stood and gave me a warm hug.

"Mom, you've lost weight," Simon said, looking me over with concern in his eyes.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," I said with a smile, giving his cheek a playful pinch. "But you've put on a few pounds. Must be enjoying the dining hall food, huh?"

Hector sat quietly, watching me and Simon with a complicated look. He wore the navy shirt I gave him last year. Noticing my gaze, he adjusted his collar, suddenly self-conscious.

"Let's order," Hector said, sliding the menu across the table to me. "I remember you like beef."

His sudden attentiveness made me uneasy. Before the divorce, Hector never remembered my food preferences, but now he went out of his way to be considerate. The bitter irony was clear to me.

"I'll order myself," I said, taking the menu and, on purpose, choosing several dishes I knew Hector couldn't stand, the chicken he particularly hated.

At the table, Simon excitedly shared university stories. Hector and I listened quietly, exchanging occasional knowing smiles. When it came to parenting, we still seemed to be on the same page.

"Mom," Simon said, suddenly turning to me, "Dad mentioned you've started translating. How's that going?"

I shot Hector a quick glance, not expecting him to bring this up to our son. "It's going well," I said. "Just finished a couple of minor projects."

"She's being too modest," Hector cut in and said, with an odd note of pride in his voice. "The novel she translated has already been approved by the publisher, and she's even got an article coming out in Literary Review."

I stared at him in astonishment and asked, "How do you know all this?"

"Flora told me," Hector said, flashing a smug grin. "We chat from time to time."

The news hit me like a splash of cold water. Flora and Hector in contact? They barely knew each other before. And Flora knew well how hard I was trying to break free from his influence.

"Do you two keep in touch often?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

"Just a few times," Hector said offhandedly. "She's quite concerned about you. She says you're working too hard and worries you might burn yourself out."

I felt betrayed. Flora, my advisor and friend, was now secretly talking to Hector about my personal life, of all things behind my back.

"Mom, are you okay? You look a bit pale," Simon asked, worry in his voice.

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just a bit surprised that Flora has been in touch with you."

Simon added, "Dad even added her on WhatsApp." His offhand remark killed my appetite.

After lunch, Simon excused himself to visit his high school teacher, leaving Hector and me standing in awkward silence at the restaurant entrance.

Feeling overwhelmed, I finally snapped, "Hector, why are you doing this? Why did you reach out to Flora and dig into my life? We're divorced. Don't you understand?"

Hector's voice rose as he said, "I'm just worried about you. Sia, look at yourself. You've gotten so thin these past two months, with dark circles and late nights. You were never like this before."

My voice trembling with anger, I snapped, "Because I never had a life of my own. Hector, can't you see? I'd rather struggle pursuing what I love than live forever in someone else's shadow."

Passersby cast curious glances our way. Hector lowered his voice, trying not to draw more attention. "Let's not make a scene here. Get in the car. I'll drive you home."

"No, I'll go back by myself," I said, turning to leave, only for him to grab my arm.

His voice softened into a plea as he said, "Sia, please, I'm begging you. Give me a chance to prove I can change. I've started cooking classes, learning housework, and even reading your favorite books. Just one more chance?"

I looked into his pleading eyes, my heart a swirl of conflicting emotions. When had this proud man ever humbled himself like this? But the truth was, I no longer needed him to change for me.

"Hector," I gently withdrew my arm and continued. "This isn't about whether you can change. I need to find myself alone. Please respect that, and honor our divorce."