Chapter 4

"Audrey, Lilith hurt her foot. I need to go check on her."

His eyes were urgent. Anxious. A little uncertain.

He was gambling.

Betting on whether I'd blow up.

But I was calm. I just nodded.

"Okay."

He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily. Surprise flashed through his eyes.

"Then... the rest of the paperwork—you'll handle it?"

I nodded.

"Fine."

His expression shifted. Something like guilt.

"Audrey, you're the most understanding."

He walked over and took my hand.

"Actually, this works out. I'll go get things set up first. Won't be so rushed when you get there."

He seemed to have found himself a reasonable excuse.

"I'll wait for your update. I'll pick you up at the airport."

I pulled my hand back. Still calm.

"Go take care of things."

I turned and went back to packing.

His hand hung in the air. He didn't quite register what had just happened.

Another message from Lilith popped up.

"Sebastian, did you book the flight? My foot looks swollen..."

He didn't hesitate. He threw a few clothes together, drove straight to Logan, and left.

The next day, Lilith updated her Instagram.

The photo showed Sebastian in an apron, head down, chopping vegetables.

The caption read: "Dinner is homemade steak with red wine. Having someone cook for you feels so good."

Something slammed hard into my chest.

So he knew how to cook.

Ten years in Boston. I cooked every meal.

I remembered one winter. I caught a bad flu. Fever hit 102.

For two full days, I couldn't eat a thing.

"Sebastian, I want some hot soup... can you make me some?"

He was watching the Patriots game. His brow creased.

"I don't know how."

Later, he reluctantly grabbed his coat.

"I'll go grab you something from Whole Foods."

I waited forty minutes.

He came back, full and satisfied, bringing me a bottle of cold milk and a cold sandwich.

I wanted to cry from the hurt.

Later, I convinced myself.

Everyone has strengths and weaknesses.

I couldn't demand too much from him.

Now I knew. He did know how to cook.

He just didn't want to do it for me.

The house sold. Our Volvo sold. The joint bank account closed.

A decade of accumulation, compressed into a few boxes, a few documents, a few wire transfers.

I sorted his belongings piece by piece and shipped everything via international courier to Palo Alto.

Three days later, Sebastian called.

"Audrey, I got the luggage. When's your flight?"

He hadn't even noticed. Only his things. None of mine.

I answered flatly. "Three days."

Excitement filled his voice.

"I'll pick you up at the airport. Send me your flight number."

"Lilith's so excited to hear you're coming. She says she wants to try your apple pie. I've been craving it too."

I stayed silent.

I wasn't even there yet, and they were already assigning me tasks.

"Audrey? You hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Then it's settled. I'll pick you up, and we'll go grocery shopping together."

I didn't respond.

But he hung up.

As if accepting was my default.

He just didn't know. I had already prepared a surprise for him.