Chapter 1
When the 4.2–magnitude earthquake struck, chaos erupted. The panicked crowd surged, and I was pushed to the ground. In that moment of terror, I lost the child I was carrying.
Maxwell didn’t even glance my way. Instead, he took the hand of his boss‘ sister and left without a word.
That evening, I returned home, numb and empty. Waiting for me was a box of unused small umbrellas–a mocking reminder of something once shared. I tossed the box into the trash without hesitation and turned to make a long–distance call.
“Ms. Grace Fitzgerald, welcome to Air New Zealand. Your reporting time is within 30 days.”
The voice on the other end carried a sense of promise, a way forward. As the call ended, Maxwell walked in, his presence
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disrupting my fleeting clarity.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked casually.
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“Nobody,” I replied without looking at him. “Just a scam call. I hung up.”
“I’ve told you countless times not to click on random links online. See? You‘ re always getting scam calls.”
He expected my usual sharp retort or some excuse, but I gave him none. My silence must have surprised him because he
paused, his tone softening.
“I’m flying to Denver tomorrow night,” he said after a moment.
I hummed in response–a noncommittal sound that neither encouraged nor discouraged.
Without another word, he headed to the bathroom to shower.
As we passed by, the lipstick stains on his shirt collar stung my eyes. I forced myself
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Chapter 1
Unaware of my thoughts, he continued his usual nagging. “So many red dates, longans, and wolfberries–so sweet and greasy. Don’t drink it.”
He paused before adding, “Oh, Emily sprained her ankle today. Tomorrow. morning, heat up the chicken soup, put it in a thermos, and pack it for me. I’ll take it to her for nourishment.”
I nodded wordlessly, my compliance silencing him for now.
As he walked toward the bedroom door, he suddenly stopped and turned back. “By the way, where’s your ski jacket? The pink. one. Find it and give it to me.”
I went to the cloakroom and pulled out the cherry–pink satin goose–down ski jacket he had given me last year. It was bright, delicate, and untouched–I had never worn
- it.
Folding it neatly, I placed it in a handbag and handed it to him without a word.
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Maxwell glanced at me and said, “Don‘ t overthink it. I noticed you haven’t worn it, so I figured you might not like the bright color.”
“Emily is only 20, and pink suits her age. Let her have it; it won’t go to waste. I’ll buy you another color later.”
“Okay,” I replied, my voice flat.
He paused, his brows knitting slightly. “Why didn’t you help me pack my luggage today?”
It surprised him. I had always packed for him before every flight mission, whenever I was home.
Without a word, I opened his suitcase and began packing with practiced precision.
“Don’t forget my white ski jacket,” he reminded me.
“Okay.”
Returning to the cloakroom, I found his white ski jacket hanging beside where the
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pink one had been. Last year, he had bought the white jacket for himself alongside the pink one for me, saying he’d take me skiing.
We’ll go together when we have time, he had promised.
But time never aligned. Even when we tried, our schedules rarely overlapped, and the few times they did, our shared flights. carried more distance than connection.
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