The Red Light I Couldn’t See, The Love That Was Never There Chapter 10
Ethan didn’t leave.
He crouched in the hallway all night.
The next morning, Sophie’s mom nearly jumped when she found him as she was heading out to buy
groceries.
He sat on the stairs with his back against the wall, his hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes
“Ma’am…”
He stood up, but his leg buckled and he nearly lost his balance.
“Would Sophie… be willing to see me?”
Sophie’s mom looked at him and let out a long sigh.
“Go home. She left first thing this morning.”
“She left? Where did she go?”
“She said she needed to get away for a while. She didn’t say where.”
Ethan’s face went white.
Sophie’s mom walked away with her grocery basket, her footsteps fading into the distance.
Ethan turned toward the closed door. He knew Sophie was inside.
He knew it was only an excuse Sophie had given her mom because she wanted him to give up
So he went to the door and knocked.
“Sophie, I know you’re in there.”
There was no answer.
He knocked again, very lightly.
“Will you come out and see me just once? Just once. I’ll leave after I say what I need to say”
Still, no one answered.
He leaned against the door and slowly crouched down.
“I know I was a jerk before”
“You asked me to come to your follow–up appointment, and I didn’t. I forgot your birthday‘
You were getting an IV at the hospital while I was out hiking with Lily. I turned away and left you to cross the
street alone.
“Later, I went back over those things one by one. Every single one was enough reason for you to dump me
eight hundred times.”
He paused, his throat tightening as if something were lodged there.
“But you stayed. So I thought you would never leave.”
“Sophie Hart, I’m sorry.”
“I only dared to treat you that carelessly because I knew you loved me.”
The hallway was so quiet that even his breathing sounded loud.
“Can you give me one chance? Just one.”
“Come out and look at me. Just look at me once. Please, Sophie.”
After he finished, he waited for a long time.
The door never opened.
He rested his forehead against the door, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.
“Sophie, if you ever want to come back, I’ll still be here.”
“I was the one who hurt you. I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting for you.”
When he finished, he used the wall for support and slowly stood up. His leg was so numb that he nearly
dropped to his knees.
He walked away very slowly, pausing on every step as if waiting for something
But by the time he reached the first floor, the door upstairs still hadn’t opened
He pushed open the building’s front door and stepped outside. The sunlight made him squint
When he reached the entrance to the complex, he stopped and looked back up.
The curtains on the eighth–floor window were closed. He couldn’t see anything.
He stood there for more than ten seconds, then turned and walked away
That day, he took the train back.
By the time he got home, it was already dark.
He turned on the lights, changed his shoes, and walked into the living room.
The first thing he saw was a note on the coffee table.
It was from Lily.
“Ethan, I’m leaving. I’ve packed everything, so don’t come looking for me.”
“You were right. You never liked me. I was the one who read too much into it.”
“But I don’t regret it. The only thing I regret is losing my best friend because of you.”
Ethan crumpled the note in his hand and stood in the middle of the living room, staring into space for a long
time.
After that, he tried every way he could think of to find her.
He secretly came by her building several times and crouched beside the flower bed across the street, staying there for half a day at a time.
But she never showed up.
He called her former coworkers and messaged her old college roommate, but no one told him where she
had gone.
He also tried messaging Lily. He typed out a long paragraph, but a red exclamation point appeared as soon
as he sent it.
Lily had blocked him, too.
Sitting in the empty living room and staring at his phone, he suddenly laughed.
But halfway through, he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling
A month later, he saw a news story online.
A company specializing in accessibility solutions had won an industry innovation award, and its founder was a twenty–six–year–old woman.
In the interview, she said she’d once experienced temporary color blindness.
That experience made her realize that many people were trapped in worlds they couldn’t fully see, just as she
had been, and she wanted to do something about it.
The reporter asked how she’d made it through the hardest period of her life.
She smiled and said, “My mom made me short rib soup.”
Ethan stared at the picture on the screen.
She was wearing a white shirt, her hair cut short. Fine lines appeared at the corners of her eyes when she
smiled.
But her eyes were bright.
It was a brightness he’d seen long ago, so long ago he’d almost forgotten it.
He stared at the picture for a long time. Finally, he locked his phone and set it face down on the table.
Outside, it was already dark, and the traffic lights at the intersection kept changing colors.
He could tell them apart.
But he suddenly wondered: if he were the one who couldn’t tell the colors apart, would anyone hold his hand
and lead him across?
No one would.
