For ten years, I watched Ryan rise from a theater student to an award-winning actor. He once promised to announce our relationship when he made it big, but as his fame grew, he said he’d wait until he won an Oscar. Finally, at his film’s wrap party, he promised me a big surprise. With joy in my heart, I stepped onto the stage. Red roses lined the carpet; it felt like a romantic declaration. But as cameras started livestreaming, Sienna Hayes, his co-star, approached me holding a tattoo gun. Ryan coldly signaled crew members to hold me down. The icy needle pierced my wrist, the machine buzzing. I struggled fiercely, but Ryan stepped forward, gripped my shoulders, and held me still. In that moment, all hope left me. I stopped fighting. Sienna tattooed “Whore” on my inner wrist, then lifted my arm for the cameras. “You moved,” she giggled. “The bunny I tried to draw is crooked now.” The next day, I boarded a flight abroad, leaving that city behind for good. He searched everywhere for me, then complained, baffled: “Naomi Ryan, it was just a joke. Did you really have to disappear?” 1. The flesh on my wrist was still raw, blood dripping from my fingers onto the stage floor. I picked myself up. No one stopped me. The crowd parted automatically. Some were still laughing, their sounds dissolving into whispers as I passed. I heard Sienna’s voice from behind. “Oh dear, she’s not really mad, is she? Darling, go cheer her up.” Then Ryan’s voice, soft, with a laugh. “It’s fine. She won’t be.” The corridor was long, the dressing room at the end. Blood dripped all the way. The dressing room had a first-aid kit, fully stocked. I always prepared one for Ryan whenever he started a new film. Even if he never used it, I’d replace everything with new supplies for the next project. I opened the antiseptic alcohol and poured it onto the wound. The pain made my whole body tremble. Once the wound was finally bandaged, I cleaned the blood from my hands with a wet wipe. My phone vibrated twice. I looked down. It was a message from Ryan. [Sienna just loves to play. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll give you two days off once your wound is handled. Don’t forget, you have an appearance the day after tomorrow.] I stared at the words, slowly scrolling up. Most of the messages were from me to him. Public appearances, event lists—almost all work-related. We rarely chatted anymore. The last time he texted me was before the New Year. [Shooting a night scene tonight. Not coming home.] Scrolling further up. Last September, he promised to be with me for a medical procedure, but canceled at the last minute. [I can’t get away. I’ve arranged for a nurse to be with you.] Scrolling even further, all the messages boiled down to a few repetitive phrases: [Not coming home tonight.] [Eat by yourself.] [Don’t wait up for me.] I put my phone face down on the table, accidentally knocking over my bag beside it. A silver ring rolled out from a hidden pocket. It was from our third year together, when we were on a trip. Ryan had made it himself at a artisan’s workshop. He’d meticulously followed the craftsman’s instructions, learning each step of silversmithing, never showing any impatience. Back then, he said: “I can’t afford a diamond ring now, but one day I’ll be famous across the country. Then, you’ll take this ring and exchange it with me…” He didn’t finish his sentence. I instinctively asked, “Exchange for what?” He just smiled, his ear tips turning red, as he finished the ring. 2. The moment he placed the ring on my finger, the old craftsman smiled and wished us eternal love, offering us a discount if we ever came back to his shop. But in the seven years that followed, we never once returned. I left the ring on the table. I walked out without looking back. A few paparazzi were lurking outside the studio. Seeing me, they raised their phones and crowded around. “Hey, you’re the one from the live stream with the tattoo, right?” “Is that word real or fake? Let us see!” I didn’t stop, walking straight through them. Someone reached out to grab me, but I shook them off. “Pfft, who does she think she is, putting on airs.” “Got it, got it. It’s that girl. Just trying to grab headlines.” “Post it in the group chat, post it in the group chat.” I vanished into the night, the sound of camera shutters and laughter trailing behind me. In the taxi, the driver eyed me several times in the rearview mirror. “Miss, should you go to the hospital for that hand? Looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” “No need.” “Where to, then?” I gave him an address. The driver paused. “That’s an old apartment complex, right?” “Yes.” I didn’t want to say more. The car turned into a side street, the streetlights growing dimmer and dimmer. Looking at the old building where I’d lived for five years, I scoffed. “Naomi Ryan, Naomi Ryan, if he really loved you, how could he bear for you to live here for five years?” I really was blind and foolish. I mocked myself inwardly. The stairwell light was out; I had to feel my way up. The apartment was dark, only faint light from the streetlights outside the window. I sat in the darkness, and my wrist started to ache again. I looked down at the red bleeding through the bandage. Suddenly, I remembered freshman year, Ryan kissing me by the athletic field. He said he loved only two things in this world: acting and Naomi Ryan. When did that passionate, earnest boy become the one to push me into hell? This apartment was tiny, only 500 square feet. But things related to Ryan took up most of it. The magazine from his first photoshoot, with his first-ever autograph. The video from his first film promotion; I’d filmed almost every costume fitting. His first birthday celebration on set, his face smeared with frosting, his eyes crinkling in a smile. The award from his first time on an awards stage… I suddenly stood up and started to clear things out. Even the hoodie he’d left here years ago. Used mugs. Books he’d bought. His old scripts. All of it went into a trash bag. The bag filled, so I grabbed another. The room grew emptier and emptier. At 3 AM, I hauled seven trash bags downstairs. The trash bins couldn’t hold it all, so I piled them next to the bins. Just like those past memories. They should have been thrown out a long time ago. Back home, I started packing my luggage. Soon, all my belongings fit into one suitcase. I let out a soft, ironic laugh. This was my decade. The next morning at 9 AM, I went to the company to submit my resignation. Lisa, the HR director, and I had always been on good terms. Lisa sat behind her desk, motioning for me to sit down. She tapped the documents in front of her. “About your resignation, the company has considered it. It’s not approved.” “Why?” “Your contract states that resignation requires a one-month advance notice and the department head’s signature.” She finally looked up at me. “Ryan hasn’t signed off, so the process can’t proceed.” I lowered my eyes, staring at a crack on the table. “Lisa, I don’t need any compensation from the company, just my resignation.” She smiled, then stood up and patted my shoulder. 3. “Naomi, why are you so stubborn? I heard about what happened last night. You were certainly wronged. But think about it, it’s just a tattoo. It can be removed or covered up. It’s not a lifetime thing.” I didn’t speak. She lowered her voice. “I heard from accounting that Ryan is giving you a million dollars in compensation from his personal account.” “A million dollars! How many years would it take you to save that much here? People would kill for that, and you still want to leave?” The door was pushed open, and Alex from accounting poked her head in. “Oh, Naomi’s here. I was looking for you.” She walked over, plopped down beside me, and patted my knee. “I’m telling you, that million dollars is real. I just approved the transfer. You, don’t be foolish. With a million dollars, go to the best clinic, get the tattoo completely removed. Who’d remember any of this then?” Lisa chimed in. “That word’s on your wrist, not your face. A sleeve can cover it up. Who would know?” “Besides, think about it, getting a tattoo mark for a million dollars? Anyone else would be thanking Sienna Hayes for it.” I wasn’t surprised by their words; they were just ordinary people unaware of the full context. But this time, I wouldn’t soften or compromise. I shook my head. “Thank you for your kind intentions, both of you. If you’d like, you can go tell Sienna Hayes and see if she’ll give you a million dollars to tattoo a word on you.” “As for my resignation, my decision is final. If you insist on blocking me with paperwork, I’ll go speak to Ryan myself.” As soon as I left the meeting room, the company group chat on my phone exploded. [Heard she wanted to get ahead and got put in her place. Maybe the boss’s fake relationship became real.] [Is she really resigning? Not even taking the million? So foolish.] [Probably too ashamed after last night. Can’t face working here anymore.] [Idiot, a million bucks! I’d get tattooed all over for that.] Looking at these unrestrained discussions, I simply left the group chat. If the company wouldn’t let me resign, I had only one other option. I opened my phone’s contact list. The last time I spoke to my brother was five years ago. That day, he said our parents decided to emigrate and asked if I wanted to go with them. For Ryan, I refused. He asked, what could be more important than family? Yes, what or who could be more important than family? I stared at his name for a long time. My thumb hovered over the screen. I pressed the dial button. It rang twice, then connected. “Naomi Ryan?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “What’s wrong?” In that instant, I knelt down, covering my mouth, tears splashing onto the floor tiles. I, who had held back tears for so long, in that single, caring question, finally broke down. 4. Just after I hung up with my brother, Ryan’s message popped up. [You left your ring in the dressing room. I put it away for you.] [How can you forget something so important? Don’t be so careless next time.] I stared at the two lines. Typed three words. [Throw it away.] Thought about it, deleted. Typed again. [I don’t want it.] Deleted again. Finally, I typed three words, and sent them. [We’re breaking up.] Soon, Ryan’s call came through. “What are you doing? There’s a limit to how dramatic you can be. You’re going to…” His voice, low, suddenly swerved. “You’re going to resign?” “Didn’t accounting tell you I compensated you? What other demands do you have—?” I cut him off. “Ryan, I’m breaking up with you. Other than that, I have no demands.” The phone line went silent. I could feel him moving to an empty place. “Naomi Ryan, can you please stop this? It was for publicity! The show has this scene. Sienna plays a tattoo artist, and I was just helping with promotion. Aren’t you usually the most cooperative when it comes to my work?” My eyes stung. Looking out the window, the sky was overcast, threatening rain. His tone softened slightly, but his voice remained low. “Alright, I’ve talked to the company. I’ll arrange a role for you in the next movie. Haven’t you always wanted to act? A supporting role should be fine, right? There was a producer present yesterday who even said your struggle scene was better than the actual actress’s.” “Stop making a fuss. This won’t do you any good.” I held the phone, my fingers cold. He had witnessed my fear and my struggle with his own eyes. And then offered me a minor role. As compensation. “The role is reserved for you for three days. Think it over. Naomi Ryan, don’t be willful. I’ll handle the online backlash, but you should also know, if you leave me, no one will dare hire you. If you don’t come back, where else would you go?” I suddenly laughed. As I laughed, large tears splattered onto my clothes, creating a dark spot. “Ryan, this time, I’m the one letting you go.” The other end was silent for two seconds, then his voice became urgent, frantic. He no longer cared about keeping his voice low, shouting my name. “Naomi Ryan——” The next second, I hung up. The phone rang consecutively more than a dozen times, then finally stopped. Rain started falling outside the window, pattering against the glass. I stood up and walked to the window. I had spent ten years in this city. I knew every road, every landmark. But looking at those buildings, those streets now, I suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity. His words, “where else would you go if you don’t come back,” still echoed in my mind. He didn’t know my brother was already on a flight back. He didn’t know my passport was in my bag. He didn’t know I was determined to leave. He knew nothing. Because he never needed to know. The rain grew heavier. I stood by the window, watching the rain stream down the glass. My brother arrived that night. When he walked into my pitifully small, empty rental apartment, his eyes showed disgust. “Naomi Ryan, your Oscar-winning boyfriend lets you live like this?” I pressed my lips together, unconsciously clutching my suitcase. My bandaged wrist was accidentally exposed. My brother’s eyes narrowed, fixing on my wrist, his tone grim. “What happened to your hand?” I instinctively covered it with my sleeve, whispering, “It’s over, bro. I want to go home.” My brother paused, then let out a long sigh. “Alright. We’re going home.” The car pulled up to the departure hall entrance. As I opened the car door, a black minivan screeched to a halt beside us, tires scraping the pavement with an ear-splitting sound. The car door slid open, and Ryan strode towards me. He was wearing yesterday’s clothes, a baseball cap pulled low. He saw me, started to say something, then spotted the man holding my suitcase. His face instantly changed. “Who is he?” His voice was chilling. 5. He stared at me, then at my brother, and suddenly let out a laugh, full of sarcasm. “No wonder you were so determined to leave. You found someone new, didn’t you?” My brother frowned. I reached out and pulled his arm, shaking my head at him. I didn’t want to attract more attention, but Ryan wouldn’t let me off the hook. “Naomi Ryan, you’ve got guts.” Ryan took a step forward, blocking my path. “You acted so innocent when you were with me, and then you turn around and hook up with someone else? How long have you known him? A month? Two months? While I was filming, you were— ” “Think whatever you want.” I cut him off. He froze. “Ryan, even if there was cheating, you were first.” I linked my arm through my brother’s and turned towards the departure hall. “Naomi Ryan!” He rushed after me, grabbing my wrist. A sharp pain shot through the bandage. I flinched. “Let go.” “No.” He squeezed tighter. “Explain yourself. Who is he? Where are you going?” My brother forcefully shoved Ryan’s arm away, their shoulders squared in anger. This drew the attention of those nearby. A woman dragging a suitcase stopped, her eyes wide, lifting her phone and saying to the person next to her, “Isn’t that… Ryan, the great actor Ryan?” Her voice made several people nearby turn their heads simultaneously. “Holy hell, it really is Ryan!” “Ryan’s at the airport!” More phones went up. The flashes multiplied. Ryan stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his voice very low, with a tremble I’d never heard before. “Nao, please don’t. Let’s go back and talk. I’ll agree to whatever you want…” I looked at his face. It was now etched with panic, his eyes red. “Ryan, the moment you held me down and let someone tattoo that word on me, my heart died.” He froze, instinctively wanting to argue. But the crowd grew, jamming the airport entrance. I was anxious to leave. He reached out again, this time avoiding my wrist, grabbing my arm. I used my other hand to pry his fingers open, one by one. He was strong; it took all my might to break his grip. Until the last finger was pried open, his entire being seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping instantly. I turned and, escorted by my brother, walked towards the security checkpoint. His voice drifted from behind. “Nao, let me explain!” I didn’t stop. “Naomi Ryan, stop right there!” The crowd automatically parted to make way. Only this time, he was the one being surrounded. “Who is she?” “I don’t know, looks like Ryan’s girlfriend?” “When did Ryan get a girlfriend? Wasn’t he involved with Sienna Hayes?” “No, isn’t that the woman who was tattooed the other day?!” The murmuring faded behind me. The security checkpoint. My brother had already placed the suitcase on the conveyor belt. I handed my boarding pass to the attendant. The moment I walked through, his voice rang out again. He had actually vaulted over the railing and rushed in. “Naomi Ryan——” His voice echoed through the entire departure hall. He was blocked by staff, two people holding his shoulders firmly, trapped like a cornered beast. “Come back, don’t leave…” I looked into his eyes and suddenly smiled. “Ryan, who am I to you? What right do you have to ask me to stay?”
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