Love Is Not a Number Chapter 08
imberly set the paperwork down on her desk and bolted outside.
Jown at the building’s entrance, Levi stood waiting with a small backpack slung over one shoulder, a bag in his hand. A girl eside him reached over and took it, setting it in the back seat of a car parked nearby.
imberly ran toward them. The moment Levi saw her, his expression went still. He said something to the girl beside him. She lanced at Kimberly, then stepped back toward the car, keeping her distance.
Kimberly stopped in front of him, out of breath.
ler throat tightened. “You’re… leaving?”
The paperwork’s done.”
Where are you going?”
evi didn’t answer.
Who is she?”
A friend I met over the holidays.” His voice stayed even. “Call it a new beginning.”
omething roared in Kimberly’s head. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the velvet box. She opened it and held it up to úím, the box trembling in her hand.
‘I got you this ring…
‘Levi, will you marry me?
‘I’m proposing to you…
‘I can go pick your parents up today, or tomorrow works too.
‘My mom said she wants to see you too…”
evi glanced down at it. On the platinum band, a square-cut diamond caught the sunlight in scattered flashes. He reached out, losed the lid, and pushed it back toward her.
‘Kimberly, I’ve let it go. You should let it go too. Maybe we were never really right for each other.”
His voice was quiet, and after a moment, he almost smiled, the corner of his mouth curving up. It was a look she hadn’t seen ‘rom him in a long time.
“If that System of yours is real, I hope you find someone whose number runs a little higher, someone who can actually give you a sense of security. I wish you happiness.”
He turned and walked toward the car. He never looked back.
The car drove off.
Kimberly stood at the entrance to the building. The wind cut through the gap between the towers and slipped down her collar. The winter sun hung low over the rooftops, and the light falling over her felt cold.
Afterward, she went through his social media, reading every post he made. Where he’d traveled, what he’d eaten, what he’d photographed.
She walked the same streets he had, checked into the same restaurants he’d recommended, the same riverside stretch he’d once called a beautiful day. But she never once ran into him.
Then one day, his profile went blank.
She stared at it for hours before finally sending him a tnessage. An exclamation mark popped up. She’d been blocked, after all. She asked around through mutual contacts and pieced together fragments of news about him now and then. He’d changed jobs, changed cities He was with that other woman now. He was doing well.
Once, by chance, Kimberly spotted him at anrevent from a distance. He stood among the crowd in a sharply tailored suit, laughing as he talked with the people around him. She watched him from a dark corner off to the side.
The zero above his head hung there like a curse burned into the air.
The longer she looked, the more it hurt. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away either, greedy for even that much of him.
Later, she heard he was getting married.
That night, Kimberly drank an entire bottle of wine and passed out on her apartment couch. The ceiling light glared down at her, harsh and blinding. It felt like a dream, like it might carry her back to before.
Kimberly never received an invitation, but she went to the wedding anyway. She stood in the dark, in the very last row of the banquet hall.
Stage lights fell over Levi, catching him in a three-piece white suit, a purple iris pinned to his lapel. He raised his hand and gently took his bride’s hand.
He looked at the woman across from him, his eyes glossy with light. He reached up and smoothed a loose strand of hair back from her temple, his touch gentle.
Kimberly gulped. She called out to the System under her breath.
“I’ve used you for years now. Can you let me see his Demand Index for her right now?”
The System went quiet for a few seconds before answering.
“Thirty.”
The corner of Kimberly’s mouth twitched. Her voice came out low.
“I see.”
Somewhere in the banquet hall, people were laughing, applauding. She turned and pushed her way out through the door.
Outside, it was raining, a light, fine drizzle. She didn’t bother with an umbrella.
She walked for a while, then stopped under a streetlamp. She reached into her pocket and touched the velvet box. She didn’t take it out.
Cars passed one after another down the street, taillights trailing red lines behind them. Music drifted out from the banquet hall, muffled behind the curtain of rain.
She lowered her head.
“Thirty,” she said.
The rain kept falling.
