Chapter 5
That girl was adorable. Gentle. At that moment, the word “moonlight” took human form. “Hello, Christine. I’m Angela Simpson, Harry’s classmate. He calls me Little One.” Angela sat by her bedside as if it were her own home, placed a cool hand on Christine’s forehead and murmured, “Good, the fever’s down. Thank goodness. Harry can finally tell to Jane now.” She turned to Christine and grinned. “Christine, you have no idea how scared he was. He kept texting me that if anything happened to you, Jane would skin him alive.” She reached to feed Christine the porridge, but as she lifted her hand, Christine’s gaze froze on her wrist. A red burn, angry and fresh, marred her pale skin. “Little One… what happened to your hand?” Before Angela could speak, Harry’s voice rang out, thick with worry. “You burned yourself? Why didn’t you say anything?!” “Oh, it’s nothing! I just burned it while making porridge for Christine. You’re overreacting.” “No way. I’m taking you to the burn clinic, what if it scars?” Without waiting, Harry grabbed Angela and whisked her out the door. As they exited, Christine could’ve sworn Angela flashed her a victorious smile. A taunt. Angela never even set the porridge down. By the end of the day, Christine was still on an empty stomach. Harry never came back. At dusk, she dragged her weak body downstairs, picked up her medication, signed the discharge papers herself and hailed a taxi home. Efficient. Cold. Heartbreaking. Once home, she opened her laptop and submitted her resignation letter. She retrieved a large cardboard box from storage, packed up her things and called a logistics company to ship them away. The room emptied quickly. The items left behind all belonged to them, to him. She pulled out a burlap sack and began shoving everything in. Then, dragging the heavy sack to the trash bins, she struck a lighter. “Let’s burn it all to ash.” The flames caught quickly. When they reached a framed photo, he kissing her cheek, their smiles frozen in time her heart clenched. But memories weren’t sacred when the person they were tied to was no better than a pig or a dog. If he wanted to be a model husband so badly, let him be one for someone else. Her boss called shortly after. “Christine, you’re at your career peak. What’s this sudden resignation about? Weren’t you planning to settle in London once your boyfriend’s career took off?” She didn’t hold back. In her resignation letter, she made it clear she wasn’t jumping ship, just going home. “There’s a throne waiting for me back in Boston. No choice but to inherit it,” she joked casually. After wrapping up work and finishing her final calls, she booked a one-way flight that night. Before leaving, she cleaned the guest room until it was spotless. Then, she placed an order with a vendor, Angela’s exact perfume. She sprayed two entire bottles of it in the room she’d stayed in. That way, not a single trace of herself remained. As if she had never been in London at all. “Harry, from now on, we walk separate paths. Let’s never meet again.” Christine wheeled her luggage through the departure lounge, then paused to send one final message to Harry.