The One He Loved Was Never Me Chapter 05
The driver did a double take. “The airport? But the restaurant you’re heading to is the opposite direction—east versus west, that’s a good thirty, forty miles apart! You sure?”
I nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”
On my phone, my mother was still messaging the group chat:
[Oh, and that cookie shop Megan likes is only a few miles from the congee place. Pick up a few boxes for her while you’re at it.]
My father added:
[Get back soon once you’re done! Megan’s birthday gala is next week—her hand’s still hurt, so you’ll need to write the invitations for her.]
I let out a quiet scoff. Without a moment’s hesitation, I tapped “Leave Group.”
Then I scrolled down and opened a message thread with Nathan, my old law school senior.
The last time we’d spoken was five years ago, when I’d turned down his job offer.
He’d said: “No problem. The firm will always be here for you.”
I hadn’t taken it seriously at the time. After all, if my own parents of twentyeight years and the husband who’d shared my bed for five couldn’t remember my birthday, why would I trust a polite pleasantry?
But last night I’d tentatively messaged him. He’d approved my application that very night—and even arranged a welcome reception, five years overdue.
It wasn’t until I was seated on the plane that it finally felt real.
The moment the flight attendant announced it was time to power off devices, my screen lit up.
I watched the contact name flash for two seconds. My finger didn’t pause. I held down the power button.
The lights of Los Angeles shrank beneath the wing.
The plane banked eastward, cutting across the continent, bound for New York.
Back at the hospital, Ethan stared at his phone, unable to believe I’d hung up on him.
He tried again. Twice. Five times. Twelve.
Every call: The number you have dialed is currently powered off.
My mother snorted. “Emily’s getting more insufferable by the day. We ask her to pick up one little thing and she throws a tantrum. We’ve clearly been too easy on her.”
Megan sweetly handed my mother a piece of fruit, coaxing a smile out of her, then said delicately: “It’s all my fault for bumping into her flower. If I’d known she cared that much, I wouldn’t have come to the ER even if I’d cut myself a dozen times…”
She let out a small hiss, as if she’d grazed the wound.
Ethan frowned and clasped her hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s just a flower—how could that be more important than you? Emily’s the one who can’t get her priorities straight.”
My father checked his watch, scowling. “It’s been nearly an hour. Megan’s still hungry. When Emily gets back, she needs a serious talkingto.”
Ethan said nothing, but an inexplicable unease clawed at him.
He picked up his phone and dialed me again. The same robotic voice.
“Emily wouldn’t have gotten into trouble, would she…?”
My mother was adjusting Megan’s pillow, didn’t even look up. “How could she? You put her in the car yourself. What, you think she’d get lost?”
But Ethan’s restlessness only grew.
He felt like he’d forgotten something—from yesterday to today, so many images tumbling through his mind, sharp and jagged as broken glass.
He pulled up the number for the congee shop and called.
The server answered courteously, polite but certain: “I’m sorry, Mr. Ethan. We haven’t seen anyone matching that description.”
The moment the line went dead, Ethan stood rigid, phone in a whiteknuckled grip.
Megan blinked, all understanding. “I’m sure she just got held up with something else. She wouldn’t deliberately skip it out of spite. Want to wait a bit longer? I don’t mind being hungry for a while.”
My parents gathered around her, murmuring criticisms of my thoughtlessness.
Ethan heard it all, but what he saw was my face before I got into that car—the cold smile, the absence of any reply—and a sudden, suffocating dread settled over him. He stood in silence, pushed open the ward door, and stepped into the corridor for air.
Across from the nurses’ station, two young nurses were chatting in low voices.
One wore an ER uniform. The other had an OBGYN trainee badge pinned to her coat.
“Life really is unfair. Same age, more or less—one girl gets a paper cut on her finger and the whole family rushes in. Another one comes in alone, leg bleeding, to terminate a pregnancy…”
“I know. Apparently her birthday was just yesterday. She seemed so happy at her last prenatal visit. Then today, just like that, she made the decision. What a shame.”
Ethan’s feet stopped dead. His entire body turned to stone.
He spun around, nearly staggering as he rushed toward the two nurses. “The person you’re talking about—who is she?”
The nurses startled. One scratched her head, embarrassed. “You probably don’t know her…”
“What’s her name?” His voice was shaking.
The trainee murmured: “Emily, I think…?”
“No. That’s not possible.”
A sudden, vicious pain lanced through his chest.
Ethan stumbled back a step, eyes unfocused, the color draining from his face in an instant.
Images he hadn’t bothered to notice flashed through his mind like a reel—my face, pale from retching. My unexplained appearance at the hospital entrance. My calm, empty eyes before I got into the car. The inexplicable wrench in his chest as the window slid shut.
He realized what he’d forgotten—
That car had been heading east.
Not toward West Hollywood.