My Family, My Friends, My Fiancé, All Hers Chapter 07
Autumn arrived in Seattle earlier than I expected.
Wrapped in the coat my research adviser had lent me, I sat in the corner of the lab and organized data.
Outside the window, most of the leaves on the plane trees had turned yellow. The daylight was pale.
I had been in Seattle for two weeks.
My adviser never asked why I’d suddenly changed my mind. She only handed me the key to her spare
apartment.
“Stay there for now. There’s no rush.”
She must have noticed how badly I was doing. For the first few days, she gave me only simple support tasks.
My injuries still ached, but I was doing much better than I had been when I first got off the plane.
That day, the rideshare driver had helped me into the emergency room.
When he saw how pale I was and how badly I was sweating, he refused to let me pay.
The strangers in Seattle had shown me more kindness than the family I’d known for more than twenty years.
I had a new phone number. The contacts held only my adviser’s and my lab teammates‘ information.
It was as clean as a blank sheet of paper.
Sometimes I opened my old phone and looked at it. There were 99+ missed calls and hundreds of unread
messages.
I hadn’t opened a single one.
Once, the old phone suddenly rang. It was an unfamiliar number.
I hesitated for a few seconds, then answered.
“Claire!”
Ethan’s voice rushed through the receiver, heavy with exhaustion and hoarse with strain.
“Where are you? Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you.”
I calmly hung up and blocked that number too.
After that, calls from more and more unfamiliar numbers started coming in..
Some were local. Some were from out of state. Some were landlines, others cell phones.
I didn’t answer any of them.
During my third week, an email arrived in my inbox.
The sender was Ryan’s work email.
The subject line contained only four words: [I’m Sorry, Claire】 .
I glanced at it, my finger hovering over the screen.
In the end, I swiped away the notification without opening it.
That same afternoon, the landline in my adviser’s office rang.
After she answered, she came over and looked at me.
“Your family found my office. They want to know how you’re doing.”
I looked up at her without saying anything.
She understood my silence and nodded.
“I understand. I’ll tell them I can’t reach you.”
She turned toward the door, then looked back.
“If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
I lowered my head and continued sorting the data in front of me.
My eyes stung, but I didn’t cry.
I didn’t want to shed another tear for any of them.
When I returned to the apartment that night, a bouquet of flowers was waiting in my mailbox.
The card was written in Ethan’s handwriting.
[I know I have no right to say this. But please let me apologize to you in person.]
I threw the flowers and the card into the trash together.
As I turned toward the elevator, my shoulders suddenly felt lighter.
The old me would’ve softened the moment she saw his handwriting.
Now, it had nothing to do with me.
