On the day the San Francisco earthquake hit, Liam told me he had joined the hospital's emergency response team and was leaving that very night. I calmly packed his suitcase for him. As he dragged it toward the front door, I stopped him and asked, "Do you think you really know me?" He looked back at me, frowning, clearly confused by the question. "Like... what's my Myers-Briggs personality type?" I smiled faintly. "Never mind. Have a safe trip." We had an appointment at City Hall this Thursday to get our marriage license. To make that happen, I had worked overtime for the better part of a month just so I could take a half-day off during the workweek. But after he derailed my plans time and time again, I realized our relationship had reached its absolute limit. 1 Perhaps because I hadn't been an emotionally supportive girlfriend during this brief separation, Liam took the initiative to call me at 11:30 PM on Thursday. It sounded like he had belatedly realized today was the day we were supposed to get married. His voice was exhausted as he offered apologies. I stared at the blinking cursor on my Word document. I had been sitting there since 10:00 PM and had managed to type exactly two lines. Only other fiction writers understand the absolute agony of writer's block. His phone call chased away a fleeting spark of inspiration in my brain. Just like every other time he broke a promise, it made me incredibly irritable. Naturally, my tone wasn't great. "Yeah, I know. Get some sleep." I was about to hang up when he quickly added, "The hospital will give me a few days off when I get back. We can go get the license then." A person with good morals probably shouldn't say something upsetting to a doctor who is risking his life to save earthquake victims. But I believed that dragging things out would only cause more pain. Since he wasn't going to be part of my future plans, he shouldn't be interrupting my present. My work was important to me, too. "I'm afraid that won't work," I rejected him coldly. "Liam, from now on, my reasons for taking time off have nothing to do with you." "What does that mean?" He paused for a moment before asking. "It means we're breaking up." I sounded like I was reading a corporate memo. "We've had a lot of happy memories over the years, but regardless, I wish you all the best in the future." I hung up, blocked his number, and deleted his contact. To make a clean break, I even unfriended him on Venmo. That weekend, I packed up everything that belonged to him and had it delivered to his old apartment. I changed the passcode on my front door, deleted his fingerprint access, and then unblocked his number just long enough to text him: When you get back from SF, go straight to your own apartment. Don't come here. Then, I blocked him again. That night, Liam used a random phone number to call me. He patiently and gently apologized again. "Chloe, it was wrong of me to postpone getting our license without talking to you first. But I thought you would understand. I am a doctor first, and myself second." "I know," I replied, my fingers flying aggressively across my mechanical keyboard. "I genuinely praise and admire your decision to volunteer in the disaster zone. But if you think our problems are just because you postponed a piece of paper... Liam, you're insulting my intelligence." "If you're going to keep acting oblivious, stop calling me. It does nothing but ruin my mood." Before today, I was willing to speak to him politely when breaking up. But after seeing an article published by the media company I used to work for, everything about Liam suddenly made me sick. Even though it was an entertainment gossip blog, during a massive event like the San Francisco earthquake, they pivoted to disaster coverage. However, the writers were still gossip columnists at heart. Under a clickbait headline like "Race Against Time: Gorgeous Doctors Perform Joint Brain Surgery," the article subtly tried to ship the two attractive neurosurgeons involved. The handsome doctor was Liam. The gorgeous doctor was the woman he had secretly written about ten years ago on a postcard at a tourist trap: "Unrequited love is miserable. I'm just waiting for the woman I love to break up with her boyfriend." I don't know what state of mind a twenty-one-year-old Liam was in when he wrote that sentence. But ever since I accidentally discovered that photo with his desperate confession written on the back, all the strange, subtle shifts in Liam's behavior recently made perfect sense. 2 Her name was Audrey Vance. She started pre-med at Boston University in 2006 and had been working in the neurosurgery department at Mass Gen ever since graduating. She came from a family of doctors, was currently thirty-four, three years older than Liam, and had started college at sixteen. That meant she was five academic years ahead of him. Because it was so long ago, it was hard to find much information about Audrey's college days online. I only managed to piece together that she was a standout graduate, hailed by her peers as a child prodigy. But recently, BU posted an announcement that Audrey was returning to give a guest lecture. The high-res photo attached to her bio showed a striking, radiant woman. That face perfectly aligned with the young, immature girl I had seen in Liam's family photo albums. The conclusion was glaringly obvious: Liam and Audrey grew up together. When I first flipped through those albums, I was curious about the little girl who appeared so frequently from childhood through high school. Then, she just vanished from the photos. At the time, Liam's tone was casual. He just said she was a neighbor, their families were close, so they took a lot of pictures. But after her family moved to Boston, they lost touch. Audrey's guest lecture at BU was scheduled for Saturday, June 29th. On that exact day, Liam and I had planned to go to a used bookstore to hunt for some rare editions. Early that morning, before breakfast, he looked hesitant and distracted. Finally, he told me that a doctor he deeply admired was giving a lecture at a university nearby, and he really wanted to go watch. For some reason, my mind instantly flashed to the announcement I had seen about Audrey's lecture. BU live-streamed all their guest lectures now. I sat in front of my computer for ninety minutes and watched the whole thing. The content was almost identical to every other "outstanding alumni" speech I had suffered through during my own college years. It was the standard formula: her childhood dreams, her hard work in high school, her clear career planning in college, wrapped up with some motivational chicken soup for the wide-eyed undergrads in the audience. She mentioned a few rare clinical cases she had encountered, but since she was still relatively young, her experience was mostly just observing senior surgeons. If Liam was genuinely interested in those rare cases, reading the actual medical journals published by those senior surgeons would have been far more educational. In short, there was absolutely no professional reason for Liam to waste his time listening to that lecture. But thinking about it practically, they grew up together, and judging by the photos, they were close. It was perfectly normal to want to catch up and grab a meal after not seeing someone for years. So why couldn't he just look me in the eye and tell me he was going to see her? When Liam got home, it was already evening. Beneath his usual calm expression, I could sense a hidden, bubbling joy. He immediately offered to take over the cooking. I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed, watching this tall, incredibly fit man look effortlessly handsome while flipping a spatula. "What did you have for lunch?" I asked him. "Braised chicken," he replied. "With a friend?" I pressed. He glanced at me quickly. "Why do you ask?" I smiled. "If a lecture was good enough to make you cancel our plans, it probably attracted other med school alumni too. I figured you might have run into an old classmate." He turned off the stove. In the moment it took him to slide the food onto a plate, the joyful fish swimming beneath his calm surface suddenly went completely still. "Yeah, I ran into an old classmate. We caught up for a long time." "What about you? Did you find the books you were looking for?" he deflected. "No," I said, feigning disappointment. "I was only going to try my luck today anyway." Liam was an incredibly smart and observant man. If he hadn't been completely intoxicated by the joy of reuniting with the woman he had loved for a decade, he probably would have noticed something when he came home from the lecture to grab his car keys. My everyday slippers weren't by the front door. Which strongly implied I was home. I literally listened to the front door open and close. I watched through the living room security camera as he grabbed his car keys—something he rarely did, as he hated driving. And then, I checked the dashcam app on my phone and watched him drive Audrey Vance to the airport. "Next time. I'll take a day off and go with you next time. We'll definitely find the books you want," he promised. 3 Audrey's home was in Boston, and so was her career. It was hard for two neurosurgeons living on opposite sides of the country to maintain a spark. The little flutter of excitement from their reunion slowly faded over time. But then, Audrey was coming back. I only found out by chance. My alma mater, MIT, posted an article about an upcoming symposium featuring "Outstanding Young Innovators." Audrey's name was on the list. The date was Monday, July 29th, at 9:00 AM. I didn't click the article to read all the bios. Her resume was just so impressive that they used her name in the headline as clickbait. It was impossible to miss. Monday, July 29th, was also the day Liam and I were scheduled to have our wedding photo shoot. We were supposed to try on five different outfits—two for indoor shots, three for outdoor locations. As he was getting ready to leave for work that morning, he hesitated. Once we were in the elevator, just the two of us, he finally spoke. "Chloe, the hospital is running a free clinic today, and I really want to volunteer. It's just for the morning. We can still try on the outfits in the afternoon." The hospital Liam worked at did occasionally set up free clinics outside the main entrance, usually on Mondays, from 10 AM to 4 PM. It was late July. The humidity was suffocating, making the city feel like a giant sauna. Standing outside a heavily air-conditioned hospital in this heat to run a free clinic was absolutely miserable work. Fine. He was a saintly doctor. I told him to go. After he left, I used the excuse of booking a Groupon for a hotpot place—$100 off a $300 meal for new users—to log into his phone. In reality, I just opened his transit app to check his subway history. He tapped in at the station near our apartment. He tapped out at the MIT station. Getting to MIT required transferring from the Red Line to the Green Line. His hospital was a straight shot on the Orange Line. A moment later, I closed the app and handed his phone back. "You should stay at the clinic for the afternoon too. I suddenly got swamped with work," I said. He didn't question it. He just nodded. Maybe that was the exact moment the idea of marrying him started to curdle in my mind. The receptionist at the bridal studio had told me earlier that the couple booked for the afternoon slot had a sudden emergency, and asked if Liam and I could swap with them. Given how insane both of our work schedules were, getting everything done today would have been perfect. But I didn't ask Liam's opinion immediately. I waited. I waited to see if he had the self-control to stay away, to see if he would choose to go see Audrey. I ended up going to the bridal studio alone that afternoon. The studio was completely unsympathetic and informed me that downgrading from a couple's shoot to a solo portrait session didn't qualify for a partial refund. Furious, I went and ordered a massive Korean BBQ combo meant for four people and ate it by myself. I brought the leftovers home. Liam asked if I had gone out with coworkers. I told him I went alone. He paused, then asked why I didn't invite him. "You were busy," I replied. We had been dating for three years and living together for two. He knew that when I was mad, my default response was a cold, sarcastic attitude. He didn't coddle me, mostly because whenever he messed up, he would take the initiative to apologize. Like that time. Like right now. I used to soften up whenever he apologized. I would comfort myself by thinking that if we were going to be married for decades, fights were inevitable. If we were committing to a life together, we needed to be forgiving. Besides, in many other aspects of our life, he was incredibly accommodating to me. Now, it just felt completely hollow. His apology was as sincere as ever. He admitted his mistake first, and then proposed a solution. "I'll take tomorrow off. We'll go try the outfits together," he said. I shoved the leftover BBQ into the fridge, turned around, and stared at him expressionlessly. It felt like he suddenly didn't know me at all. I liked my life meticulously organized. If one of my plans was disrupted without warning, I got angry and irritable. Especially when the disruption wasn't due to an unavoidable emergency. "So, I have to take tomorrow off too?" "In your mind, your work is a career, and my work is just a hobby?" A flash of guilt crossed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll schedule my time off around your days off." "Don't bother," I replied. "Since you don't care about it, it doesn't matter if we take the photos or not." Before walking into the bedroom, I looked at him with deadly seriousness. "You need to think long and hard about this marriage." 4 Why didn't I just break up with him right then? Why was I willing to give him another chance? Because the blueprint of my entire future was covered in his fingerprints. My original plan was to get the marriage license first, and then lay all my cards on the table about Audrey. I knew him well enough to believe that once everything was out in the open, he would sever any lingering romantic ties. Until I saw him and Audrey together in San Francisco. The night air in the suburbs was crisp and clean. Julian stood next to me, his voice so soft it felt like a breeze could blow it away. "So, why did you finally decide to end it? Do you think he intentionally went to SF to see his old crush?" I shook my head, turning to look at him with a smile. "Because the universe loves me." "The postcard from ten years ago, the headline in the university newsletter, the article on my old company's website... don't you think that's way too many coincidences?" I looked at him, my eyes bright. All the gloom from my fights with Liam had evaporated. "Plus, tonight, when I drove out here... I thought I could push past my hatred of driving. But I couldn't. You have no idea how miserable I was the entire drive over here." "I hate driving, period. So far, I haven't met a single person or encountered a single situation that makes driving not feel like a chore. So you can imagine... when Liam chose to drive Audrey to the airport that day, the sheer joy he felt had to completely overpower his hatred of driving." "So..." Julian prompted. "So, everything happens for my benefit," I said. "The universe favors me. It was telling me not to wait until decades from now, when Liam is on his deathbed, wondering if his life would have been different if he had just been brave enough to chase the woman he truly loved." "I know that once you're dead, nothing matters anymore, but just the thought of him harboring that kind of regret makes me sick to my stomach." Julian was a professional chess player I had met by chance, a world runner-up. We met in a bookstore run by an incredibly eccentric owner. Membership was ten dollars a month, and you could read any book in the store for free. The AC was always blasting, and the decor and vibe were absolutely perfect. But there was a catch: absolutely no books could be bought or borrowed. If you wanted to read, you had to stay in the store. In today's hyper-fast world, almost no one has the patience to sit quietly in a bookstore. Combined with its hidden location, the place was virtually empty. I only found out about it because I loved hunting for rare editions. When I realized this store had a massive collection of out-of-print books, I felt like a massive idiot for spending a thousand dollars on eBay for a vintage magazine set that originally retailed for twenty bucks. When the night breeze finally felt too cold, I got ready to drive Julian back. He waved his phone at me. "It's going to be a minute. I ordered an Uber." "If you hate driving, calling a car is a much better option." "I hope you don't mind me interfering." Talking to Julian was incredibly comfortable. He easily matched my wavelength, and everything he said was exactly what I wanted to hear. For example— The day Liam came back from San Francisco was a Saturday. He dragged his suitcase to my front door, the dim hallway lighting unable to hide his exhaustion. I thought about his apartment, which hadn't been cleaned in weeks. Whether he cleaned it himself or hired a maid, it would take time. In a moment of weakness, I let him in. He froze in the entryway. I said, "You don't need to take off your shoes. Just come in." His slippers were no longer on the shoe rack. "Are you going straight to bed, or do you want to eat something first?" I asked. His tall frame stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, his suitcase making him look travel-worn. "You sentenced me to death. You owe me an explanation." I didn't hide anything. I told him straight out that I knew about his past crush on Audrey, and that I knew he was still obsessed with her. Honestly, I wasn't mad that he used to have feelings for someone else. Audrey was an incredibly impressive woman. If he hadn't tried to have his cake and eat it too, I would have just thought he had great taste in women. "I admit it," he said after listening to me, his face blank. "I handled that poorly." "After her lecture, I cut contact with her. Running into her in SF was a complete coincidence. We're both at critical points in our careers. Volunteering for disaster relief looks great on a resume when it's time for promotions. You know how this works." "I know," I said, completely unfazed. "I also believe you went to SF purely to help people, not to see her." "But you know me. I believe in fate. The universe putting that article right in front of my face was its way of telling me that your connection isn't severed, and that you and I were only ever meant to be a stepping stone." "There is no 'unsevered connection,' Chloe. She's married. Her husband is a cop. She has an adopted daughter. She's incredibly happy." I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "She's married and you're still obsessing over her? That's completely unethical." "So all your assumptions were just a huge misunderstanding," Liam countered. "Hiding my meetings with her and keeping a ten-year-old postcard was wrong, and I apologize. Can we move past this?" His pleading tone softened my heart for a fraction of a second. But I am as stubborn as a mule. Once I make a decision, I rarely change it, even if it's the wrong one. We had the most explosive fight of our entire relationship that day. The golden window for earthquake rescue is 72 hours. He hadn't slept properly for 72 hours, had to deal with this relationship disaster, and came home to a stubborn mule like me. Anyone would have lost their temper. He said, "Chloe, we aren't kids anymore. This isn't college where you date if you feel like it and dump someone if you're bored." He continued, "You chose to marry me for purely practical reasons. You say I want my cake and eat it too? What about you? You don't even know how to be in a relationship. You just picked a husband who checked your boxes, someone who could be useful to you. You factored in so many selfish variables when you chose me. Look at how much I've tolerated since we got together. Why can't you tolerate me just this once?" It felt like he was trying to collect interest on every grievance he had ever suffered with me. I looked at him, looking as deflated as a popped balloon. I felt no pity, no heartbreak, only rage and a sense of absolute absurdity. "Oh really? Tell me, how exactly did I use you for my own gain?" He pressed his lips together and stayed silent. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Aside from my corporate day job, I was also a novelist. After we met, I constantly asked him questions about neurosurgery to write a medical workplace drama. It got published and the TV rights were sold. I pocketed nearly a million dollars from the IP rights. I had done this before. My ex-boyfriend was a corporate negotiator, and I used his professional knowledge to write a book that also sold film rights. I never hid that from Liam. "Deep down, you think I only date guys so I can mine them for research to sell books? You think you're just a cog in my money-making machine? "That is hilarious, Liam. If I just wanted professional advice, I could pay consulting fees to dozens of elite professionals. I can write workplace dramas, get them published, and sell the film rights because I have a sharp commercial eye and raw talent. I don't need to play emotional games just to steal some medical jargon. I'm above that. "Yes, I am practical. I chose you because you come from a good family, you have elite degrees, and you're incredibly handsome. Why else would I choose you? Do you really think someone with my average background, average education, and average job isn't good enough for a golden boy like you?" Spitting out every thought in my brain in one breath, I watched his face drain of color. The last shred of affection I had for him evaporated. "I'm so sorry to break it to you, but I think I'm pretty fantastic. I'm good enough for anyone." I slammed the door and left. After driving a few miles, I suddenly realized it was my apartment. Rookie mistake. Julian found me at a Dave & Buster's. I was aggressively playing the claw machine. When you're in a terrible mood, the whole world seems to conspire against you. I had blown way too much money on tokens, but I couldn't grab a single plushie. I wanted to kick the machine through the wall. Julian plucked three tokens from my basket and started operating the joystick beside me. "When you play chess, you have to calm your mind. The same goes for the claw machine." He handed me the Lotso Bear I had been failing to win for twenty minutes. "You look like you're having a terrible time. Do you need someone to vent to?" As an introvert, I usually processed my problems internally. I rarely vented to anyone. But that day, I followed Julian to a spot with a beautiful view of the city skyline at night. Whenever Julian spoke, if he included a philosophical point or life advice, he always used chess as a metaphor. Coincidentally, I had outlined a novel a long time ago about a male chess prodigy. I had shelved it because my own understanding of chess was pathetic. I recognized Julian because I had watched his tournament videos on YouTube while researching the book. Maybe Julian could provide the inspiration I was missing for that story. Sometimes I hate how my brain works. The more chaotic and frustrated I feel, the more aggressively rational I become. "I use the silent treatment. I refuse to communicate. I have a million toxic flaws as a girlfriend, and I admit all of them," I said, staring at the distant moonlight, my tone stubborn. "But he tried to use my flaws to justify his betrayal. I can't accept that." Julian looked up at the moon. The soft silver light washed over his face, highlighting his sharp jawline perfectly. "A rose's thorns are part of its beauty, even if they draw blood."
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