- 6.
The day before the procedure, I felt a sudden surge of anxiety. I remembered my mother’s jade Buddha pendant, locked away in our safe. I decided to retrieve it. When I arrived at the
house, the entry code had been changed.
Locked out of my own home, I felt a wave of helplessness. Frustrated, I called Ethan. Olivia answered, her voice laced with triumph.
“Sophia? It’s my birthday. Ethan’s taking me to
see the meteor shower. We won’t be back
tonight.” “I told him lovers who wish on a
shooting star stay together forever. He
remembered! I’m so happy!” “I can’t give you
the code. We’re not there, and it wouldn’t be
appropriate for you, an outsider, to be inside…”
I hung up, then tried Olivia’s birthday as the
code. The door clicked open. The code was
<
3:11
944
Olivia’s birthday. Inside, every trace of my
existence had been erased. Our wedding photo
on the mantelpiece had been replaced with a
picture of Ethan and Olivia, young and happy,
Ethan’s arms wrapped around her. My
succulents had been thrown out, pots and all.
My study was now Olivia’s music room, a grand
piano taking center stage. Stunned, I went to
the bedroom, opened the closet. Rows of lacy
lingerie, not mine, filled the space. The safe
was at the bottom. I pressed my finger to the
scanner, my hand shaking as I pulled out
jewelry, cash, documents. But my mother’s jade
pendant was gone. Olivia knew how much it
meant to me. She’d thrown it away.
