Chapter 4
Leigh looked shy, but Harvey didn’t seem to mind.
We ran into each other right in front of the elevator.
I said little, but Leigh squirmed in his arms, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“Harvey, put me down already,” she pleaded.
Harvey frowned, not budging. “You’re hurt. Stop moving.”
Added to the library
Then, unexpectedly, he turned to me.
“What are you doing here? Are you sick?”
I raised the bottle of medicine in my hand.
1/11
“Just some insomnia,” I replied.
He paused as if considering it. “I’ll have my assistant pick up some lavender. Put it in the bedroom; it might help.”
Before he could say anything more, Leigh interrupted with a soft whimper, like a kitten in distress.
The elevator descended smoothly until, without warning, there was a loud bang, and it jerked to a sudden stop.
The lights flickered and went out.
In the pitch black, I crouched down, my whole body trembling.
I’m terrified of the dark.
2/11
Harvey, remembering, called out to me.
“Berenice? Are you okay?”
I managed a shaky response. “M–Mm–mm.”
“Leigh, get down for a second,” he said, his voice filled with concern.
“Berenice’s scared of the dark…”
But Leigh started sniffling in the corner. “I’m scared too, Harvey! Don’t let me down…”
Harvey didn’t acknowledge me after that. His focus was entirely on her, soothing her with that tender voice of his.
Meanwhile, my palms were clammy, and my body wouldn’t stop shaking.
This wasn’t the first time. Years ago, Harvey
3/11
and I had been stuck in an elevator together.
The lights had gone out, and we were trapped between floors.
I’d been so terrified I couldn’t even cry–just shivering uncontrollably, breaking out in cold sweat.
Back then, Harvey had held me. He was a neat freak, repelled by any mess, but that day he held me so gently. No complaints. No disgust.
Just like how he was now–comforting Leigh.
“H–Harvey…” I whispered.
The darkness made me feel fragile, and tears began to slip down my cheeks.
4/11
I found myself longing for the warmth of his arms again.
But then, as if to shatter the fragile hope I’d allowed myself, he said, “Leigh’s hurt…”
I didn’t speak another word. I just buried my head in my arms and stayed quiet.
After what seemed like forever, the lights flickered back on, and the elevator began moving again.
As soon as we hit the first floor, I stumbled to my feet and rushed out.
At home, I was still in a daze.
Mom had sent me pictures of wedding dresses to choose from, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus on them.
5/11
I just sat there, quietly watching the clock tick by.
I don’t know how long it was before Harvey returned.
He walked in, holding a bouquet of lavender in one hand, a bag of takeout in the other.
I opened it–lobster bisque.
Harvey had forgotten I was allergic to shellfish.
He didn’t even notice. He simply mumbled an apology.
“You haven’t eaten yet, right? Eat this while it’s hot.”
I opened the lid and drank every last
spoonful.
6/11
The hives broke out almost immediately, but I didn’t care.
“Come back for dinner tomorrow,” I said. “It’s your birthday.”
He froze, surprised, but then nodded quickly.
I stood up to grab some antihistamines.
Cooking had never been my forte.
The only thing I was halfway decent at was making birthday spaghetti.
But tonight, no matter what I did, it kept going wrong.
I didn’t want to waste it, so I forced myself to eat the failures.
7/11
I kept an eye on the clock.
Once Harvey came home and had his birthday dinner, I’d leave.
For good this time.
But he never showed up.
Instead, he called.
“Leigh burned her fingers while cooking. I need to take her to the hospital,” he said.
“You go ahead and eat without me.”
His lies were always so transparent.
I couldn’t see his updates on my main Facebook account anymore.
But my alternate account? It showed
8/11
everything–a photo of him and Leigh standing by a cake, streamers suspended in the air, frozen mid–fall, both of them smiling and holding hands.
“Hello? Hello?” Harvey’s voice snapped me back to reality. He was still on the phone.
I exhaled slowly, my breath trembling. “It’s… it’s okay. No rush.”
Then, from my alternate account, I liked his post.
I tossed the spaghetti straight into the trash.
Harvey doesn’t love me anymore.
Letting him go would probably make him happier anyway, so I dragged my suitcase out of the house.
9/11
On the way, I compiled all the evidence of Leigh and Harvey’s years of flirtation and posted it to my main Facebook account.
Plenty of our mutual friends would see it.
If I’m leaving, I won’t do so quietly.
Before the plane took off, I sent Harvey one last message.
[Happy birthday. Goodbye.]
I didn’t even bo
saying it was over.
Seven years together, no commitment–there wasn’t much to break.
Even the abortions meant nothing to him- just collateral damage in his messed–up life.
Just before I turned my phone off, the calls
10/11
started flooding in, and I accidentally picked
up one.
11/1
