My Family, My Friends, My Fiancé, All Hers Chapter 10
After that, they stopped showing up outside my building.
But their traces were everywhere.
Every few days, another letter appeared in my mailbox, some thick, some thin, each in a different hand.
I didn’t open a single one. I let them pile up for a week, then threw them all away at once.
Every so often, an email addressed to me appeared in the lab team’s inbox. The sender was Ryan.
I set up an automatic filter and sent every message straight to the trash folder.
The only time I wavered was when a package arrived from home.
Inside was a photo album from my childhood.
A note from Dad was tucked inside the first page.
【These belong only to you. We lost too much. At least we can give this back.]
I turned through a few pages.
There was a picture of me riding on Dad’s shoulders when I was three, and another of Mom grinning from
ear to ear when I won a school award.
Back then, I had been the only child in the family.
Back then, everyone’s attention had been on me.
I closed the album and tucked it into the very back of my closet.
I didn’t throw it away.
But I never opened it again.
By mid–November, my adviser officially let me join the core research project.
The work grew busier, and I spent every day in the lab from morning to night.
The senior members of my team were kind.
They knew nothing about my past. They only thought I was quiet, reserved, and efficient.
One of the women on the team noticed that I never ate breakfast. After that, she brought an extra sandwich
to my desk every morning.
She said the café downstairs always made too much, and letting it go to waste would be a crime.
That kind of kindness, offered without asking for anything in return, slowly helped me grow new roots in the
city.
In early December, Seattle saw its first snow.
When I left the lab that day, a news alert flashed across my phone.
【Seattle tech entrepreneur Ethan Carter’s company plunged into a debt crisis as multiple investors pulled
out.]
I swiped away the alert, wrapped my scarf tighter, and walked toward the bus stop.
It had nothing to do with me anymore.
The snow fell harder. Warm yellow light spilled from the coffee shop beside the bus shelter.
A senior researcher on the team texted me.
[Claire, our adviser said your midterm report was excellent. She singled you out for praise.]
Standing in the snow, I felt the corners of my mouth lift before I could stop them.
After three months in Seattle, I earned a permanent position on the research team.
My adviser said that if the midterm results went well, I might have a chance to go abroad for a research
exchange next year.
I had earned this myself. No one had handed it to me.
When I returned to the apartment building, the older doorman called out to me.
“Miss Anderson, someone left something for you at the front desk.”
It was a small box. Inside was a ring.
I recognized it.
Five years ago, after Ethan made his first real money as an entrepreneur, he had this ring custom–made.
He’d said that once he could support us, he’d propose properly.
A note was tucked beneath the box.
【I bought this ring for you and only you. You can throw it away if you don’t want it, but I wanted you to
know.)
I held the ring between my fingers for a few seconds.
Then I placed the box and the note together in the lost–and–found bin beside the doorman.
“Sir, I don’t want this. If someone comes looking for it, please give it back to him.”
In the elevator, my face appeared in the mirrored wall.
I looked much healthier than I had three months earlier. The dark circles beneath my eyes were gone.
My bangs had grown longer, covering the scar near my temple.
As I looked at my reflection, I suddenly remembered something.
Tomorrow was my birthday.
In the past, I had waited for that day every year.
I waited for Ethan’s surprise, my family’s calls, and my friends‘ birthday wishes.
All I ever got was disappointment, over and over again.
This year, I didn’t have to wait for anyone.
That afternoon, the senior researcher asked whether I was free that weekend.
“A few of us are going out for Nashville hot chicken. Want to come?”
I said yes.
She slapped the desk, delighted.
“Then I’ll make the reservation. Six people. By the way, can you handle spicy food?”
I could handle spicy food.
Ethan didn’t eat spicy food, so I’d avoided it with him for five years.
Now I could eat whatever I wanted and go wherever I wanted. I never had to accommodate anyone again.
That night, I lay in bed as the snow stopped outside.
Moonlight slipped quietly through the gap in the curtains.
My phone lit up. It was a message from my adviser.
[Tomorrow’s lab meeting was moved up to nine. Is your data model ready?]
I replied: Ready.
Then I set my phone down and turned over.
The blankets were warm. I had work tomorrow, hot chicken with friends on the weekend, and a chance to go
overseas next year.
I had built a full life on my own.
The letters, packages, and emails sent from Boston could no longer stir even a ripple in my world.
Once I turned the page on them, every page that followed would be written only by me.
