Chapter 8
682words
On the other side of town, Quentin returned home.
"Cammy! Cammy! I know I was wrong, Cammy! I'm sorry! I bought the locket you wanted! Cammy!"
But no matter how loudly he called, no one answered.
Panic surged up his spine.
He searched the living room, the kitchen, the bedroom…
They were all empty.
A sudden thought struck him. He opened the wardrobe. Half the clothes were gone.
Everything that belonged to me had disappeared, except for one white dress, the one he bought for our wedding.
I was nineteen then. I had said to him, "Quentin, when we get married, can you buy me a white dress?"
He agreed.
And on our wedding day, I did wear that beautiful white dress.
But our marriage brought no happiness.
Quentin remembered that day too. I had my hair in braids, cheeks flushed with shy warmth. In front of both families, I placed my hand in his.
I said, "Quentin, from now on, we're a family."
The cheerful scene still felt like yesterday, yet the house no longer held any trace of me.
Without realizing it, he wandered into the kitchen. It was spotless, just as always.
When he turned, his foot nudged a glass bottle lying on the floor.
He frowned and bent to pick it up.
"This is…"
It was the bottle I used to store soybeans.
The first time Rita had an episode, it was late at night. I was terrified and refused to let him leave. Anxious, Quentin grabbed a glass bottle from the kitchen and handed it to me.
"Cammy, I promise you—I'll only accompany Rita ninety-nine times. Each time I go, you put one soybean inside. When there are ninety-nine, bring it to me. I swear I'll come home with you."
From that day on, the bottle became my most precious thing.
But now, the soybeans inside were gone.
Quentin stared blankly at the bottle, as if his heart had been hollowed out along with it.
When he lifted his head, he noticed a sheet of letter paper on the table in the main hall.
His eyes lit up. He rushed over and snatched it up.
The familiar, graceful handwriting filled his vision.
[Quentin, I'm gone. I submitted the divorce application ten days ago. It should be approved in a few days. I'm sorry I only told you now.
Originally, I wanted to say goodbye properly on the day I left. But I overestimated myself.
I'm writing this letter because I hope, for the sake of what we once were, you can help me with a few things.
The soup bowl that broke last night belonged to Clarice. I wrapped the pieces in cloth and put them in the cabinet, along with some money. Use the money to buy a replacement with the same pattern. With what's left, buy two chickens.
Thank Clarice for making soup for me that day. I didn't get to drink it, but I remember the kindness.
Also, the vegetables in the yard—pick them and give them to Granny Edith. When you were away, she worried something might happen to me while pregnant and sent Eason over from time to time to check if I needed help. Please return their favor for me.
Lastly, I want to say this.
Quentin, I resent you. I resent you for leaving me again and again for Rita. I resent you for making me lose our child. And I resent you even more for marrying me in the first place.
Our lives crossed for a while, but in the end, we can only return to where we started. So don't come looking for me. I never want to see you again.]
…
His hands trembling, Quentin finished reading the letter and sat there for a long, long time.
He had always thought I would wait for him. He had always thought I couldn't live without him.
But in this world, who is truly indispensable to anyone?
The next day, Quentin received a call from the police station.
