Chapter 8
A video he posted featured dim, yellow lights of the nightclub flickering, casting shadows on the scattered liquor bottles that
littered the tables. On the stage, a singer in a revealing outfit sang with a carefree, confident air, radiating both charm and
recklessness.
Late into the night, I received a call from one of Jason’s colleagues.
“Wynter, you need to come see Jason. He’s completely drunk, barely able to stand, and keeps calling your name. If you don’t
come, he won’t leave.”
Another video soon popped up on my social media.
There was Jason, curled up on the floor, his eyes swollen and red, staring at my photo on his phone.
“Honey, please don’t leave me… I don’t want the divorce…”
At that moment, I was at Marilyn’s place, indulging in some old habits. I had a face mask on while watching a variety show and
gossiping.
I quickly searched for Zara’s phone number and sent it to Jason’s colleague.
“You doctors really have a short memory. Didn’t I already tell you? Ms. Ferguson is his girlfriend, so you should call her.”
Seeing that I ended the call without hesitation, Marilyn, who was lying on my lap, clapped her hands in approval.
“You should’ve done that ages ago! You used to love Jason so much that I couldn’t even say anything. But now that you’ve woken up, I’m just so happy for you!”
She grinned mischievously.
“Wait, there’s someone even happier than me–my brother. He’s been waiting for you to come to your senses for years, Wynter.”
Marilyn’s brother was Lucian.
When we were kids, I used to cling to him constantly, but as we grew older, I started to distance myself, understanding the boundaries between men and women. After college, he turned out to be my boss at my first job.
Over the years, Lucian had been an immense help to me. He was a great mentor and friend, perhaps even a wonderful lover–but I wasn’t ready for a new relationship.
Not yet.
