5

Chapter 5

I got some cardboard boxes and started in the bedroom, packing my things bit by bit.

Clothes, books, lab materials, certificates, my computer.

The decorations we'd chosen together, our photos, his gifts—

I threw them all into black trash bags.

With each item I tossed, my heart felt a little lighter.

When I threw away the photo from our first trip together, I knew it was finally over.

James disappeared like he'd evaporated from the world. A whole week without coming home.

But his figure kept appearing on my phone.

Rebecca's Instagram updated almost three times a day.

I saw her latest post—

On a morning beach, Rebecca stood on golden sand, hands on her belly.

Behind her, James held an umbrella for her, his head lowered as he adjusted her shawl.

The caption read:

"Thank you for bringing me to see what might be the last sunrise of my life."

James also posted a photo of him and Rebecca together, with the caption:

"She said she wants to see all the oceans in the world. I'll be there with her."

Watching them, I felt heartbroken.

Happiness has always been biased.

And I was never the favored one.

After packing everything, I called my parents.

My mother asked worriedly, "Ellie, it's a closed facility. Does your boyfriend really agree to you going?"

I said calmly, "We broke up."

I told them everything that had happened.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

My father took the phone, his voice decisive. "Good riddance. He doesn't deserve you. You also saved his life, Ellie, and yet he hurt you like this. Whatever decision you make, we'll always support you."

I murmured agreement, my nose stinging, but I felt relaxed for the first time.

The next day, I went to the university to submit my resignation.

HR asked for a reason. I wrote just eight words:

"Personal planning, external research assignment."

My colleagues came to hug me one by one.

When I returned home with my office belongings, I'd barely opened the door when laughter came from the living room.

James sat on the couch, Rebecca leaning against him, looking fragile yet glowing with happiness.

When she saw me, she raised her hand in a gentle greeting. "Ellie, you're home."

Like a host welcoming a guest.

James saw the box in my hands, his brow furrowing sharply. "What are you doing? What's in the box?"

I hung up my coat, saying calmly, "Organizing things."

"Organizing what? Where are the throw pillows? The picture frame on the sideboard? Why are so many of your books missing?"

"Things I don't want anymore. I threw them out," I said.

The air froze for three seconds.

Rebecca suddenly interjected gently, "Actually... I came today because I wanted to invite Ellie to dinner."

She looked at me, her gaze earnest and polite, yet with an unmistakable superiority.

"Thank you for... being understanding during this time."

I understood in an instant what her "understanding" really meant.

I wanted to refuse.

But James had already picked up his car keys, his tone brooking no argument. "Let's go. Together. Consider it a break."

He grasped my wrist.

Not hard, but impossible to shake off.

The restaurant was a light food place.

James ordered a table full of "things she can eat" for Rebecca: low-sodium soup, grilled chicken breast, steamed fish, quinoa salad.

Then he casually pushed a plate of seafood pasta in front of me.

"Rebecca can't eat seafood. You have this."

I put down my fork, saying flatly, "I'm allergic to seafood."

After six years together, he didn't even know I was allergic to seafood, yet he knew Rebecca's dietary restrictions inside out.

James's hand froze.

He stared at me blankly, as if unable to believe he'd forgotten something like that.

Rebecca looked down at her soup, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

James cleared his throat awkwardly. "Then... I'll order you something else."

Throughout the meal, he took care of Rebecca.

She coughed lightly, and he immediately draped his coat over her.

She said she was cold, and he immediately turned off the air conditioning.

I watched my reflection in the glass of water—the surface rippling, quiet and plain, completely unrelated to the warmth at this table.

Just then, my phone rang.

My advisor calling.

I stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window to answer.

"Sarah," my advisor asked, "have you really thought this through? Once you officially join, you can't easily leave."

I said quietly, "Professor, I've already packed everything. I can leave anytime."

As soon as the words left my mouth, a low voice came from behind me.

"Who's leaving?"