Chapter 5
Chapter 5:
There’s a moment, watching Nathan carry Meredith to the elevator like she’s made of spun glass, where everything crystallizes into painful clarity. His face is contorted with fear—real fear, raw and desperate—the kind of expression he wore when I first told him I was pregnant, except different. Sharper. More present.
More real.
He didn’t look at me like that when he learned he was going to be a father. He looked at me like a man receiving unexpected news about his tax return. Surprised, somewhat concerned, ultimately detached.
But Meredith? Meredith gets the panic. The sprint. The arms that carry her like she weighs nothing.
I stand in the doorway of our apartment, watching the elevator doors close on them, and something inside me goes very quiet.
The white roses catch my eye—scattered in the corner where I dropped them days ago and forgot. The water from the vase has seeped across the floor in a thin, apologetic puddle. I’d bought them to brighten the living room. I’d forgotten that anything could be poison to the right person.
The petals are just beginning to unfurl. They would have been beautiful, given another day or two. But their fate was sealed the moment they were cut, wasn’t it? The moment they were severed from the root, they began dying. They just didn’t know it yet.
Story of my life, I think, and the laugh that escapes me isn’t entirely sane.
Lаtєst chαptєrs in gɐlnovєls.ϲοm
I clean up the water. Gather the dying blooms. Take them down to the garbage room, because apparently even my grief needs to be productive.
The elevator stops on the third floor. A neighbor steps in—Mrs. Chen, with her six-year-old in his school uniform. She looks at me, at the roses in my arms, at my bare feet and unwashed hair, and something like recognition flickers across her face.
“Oh, hello! I was meaning to ask—” She pauses, choosing her words with visible care. “Did your brother bring his girlfriend to visit? I saw them yesterday in the lobby p>
Brother.
Girlfriend.
My face must do something interesting, because Mrs. Chen immediately clamps a hand over her son’s mouth and starts apologizing. I wave her off. It’s not her fault. How could she know? What could she possibly assume, except the obvious?
Because it is obvious, isn’t it? Anyone with functioning eyes can see what Nathan and Meredith are to each other. The only person in this building who couldn’t see it was me.
The elevator opens. I step out into the early morning, the sky bleeding red at the horizon. The old saying floats through my mind: red sky at morning, sailor take warning.
Time to stop sailing and start swimming.