Just then, another message from Claire popped up.
Claire: Ethan, did you book your flight? My stomach feels even worse now...
Before I could even process what I'd read, Ethan had grabbed a random handful of clothes and bolted straight for the airport.
The next day, Claire posted a new update on social media.
In the photo, Ethan was wearing an apron, standing by the stove and making soup.
The caption read: Someone made me soup today. It feels so nice to be taken care of.
It felt like someone had driven a knife straight through my heart.
So he did know how to cook after all.
For the 5 years we'd lived in Westoria, I'd been the one cooking every meal.
I remembered one winter when I'd spiked a fever of 102.2°F.
For 2 whole days, I could barely stomach a bite of anything.
"Ethan, I want some soup... Can you make me a little?" I'd asked weakly.
He'd been glued to his game and hadn't even bothered to turn his head.
"I don't know how to make that," he'd grunted.
After a while, he'd finally dragged himself to his feet and pulled on his coat, clearly annoyed.
"Fine. I'll run downstairs and grab you something."
I'd waited 40 whole minutes for him to come back.
When he finally did, he tossed me an ice-cold cola and a sandwich that had already gone cold.
Back then, I'd been so hurt I could barely hold back my tears.
But eventually, I'd talked myself out of being upset.
Everyone has things they're bad at, right?
I couldn't expect too much from him.
That was when it finally clicked.
He wasn't incapable of cooking.
He'd just never wanted to do it for me.
I ended our lease, sold the car, and closed my bank accounts.
Everything we'd built over 5 years was whittled down to a few cardboard boxes, a stack of paperwork, and a couple of bank transfers in the span of a single month.
I sorted through every last one of his belongings and shipped the whole lot to Bellmere.
3 days later, Ethan called me.
"Lydia, I got the stuff you sent. Did you book your flight yet?"
He hadn't even noticed that the boxes contained only his belongings. None of mine was there.
I answered in a flat, calm tone, "3 days from now."
His voice immediately brightened with excitement.
"Send me your flight info, and I'll pick you up at airport. Claire was over the moon when she heard you're coming. She won't stop talking about that steak you make. I've been craving it too these past few days."
I went quiet.
I hadn't even gotten there yet, and they were already assigning me chores.
"Lydia? You hear me?"
"Yeah, I hear you."
"Good. Then that's the plan. I'll pick you up, and we'll head to the grocery store together to get the ingredients."
I didn't say anything.
He just hung up.
Like it was a given that I'd go along with everything he'd decided.
*****
3 days later, I was standing in the departure hall at Westoria Airport.
Ethan sent me a voice message.
"Lydia, Claire's in the hospital with acute gastroenteritis. I have to stay here with her. You can just grab a taxi back to the apartment when you land, okay?"
I didn't reply.
A little while later, he sent another voice message.
"Lydia, why aren't you replying? This is really urgent. I can't leave to pick you up."
I typed words back.
Lydia: It's fine.
My cold, clipped reply must have stung him, because he called me right away.
"Are you mad at me?"
"No."
"Your tone is off."
"This is how I always talk."
He went quiet for a few seconds before sighing.
"Lydia, Claire's all alone here. She has no family and no friends. I'm the only one who can sign her hospital forms. I can't just leave her."
"Mhm."
"Can you cut me some slack, okay?"
"I already am."
"Then why are you..."
"I've been cutting you slack for 5 whole years. What's one more time?"
The line went completely silent.
Finally, he bit out one sentence.
"I'll make it up to you properly when you get here."
After I hung up, I leaned back against the chair and let out a long, slow breath.
5 years.
It was time to end all of this.
The boarding announcement finally crackled over the speakers.
I grabbed my backpack and headed toward the gate.
After 12 hours in the air, I caught sight of the city skyline, equal parts familiar and foreign.
Tears stung my eyes out of nowhere.
The middle-aged woman sitting beside me gently patted my arm.
"Hey, sweetie. We've landed. You're home now."
"Yeah, I'm home."
I turned on my phone.
Messages came flooding in.
Ethan's voice messages were sharp with impatient urgency.
"Lydia, the flight to Bellmere only takes four hours. Why haven't you landed yet?"
"Lydia, did you get lost somewhere? Call me back right now."
"Lydia, Claire and I already bought all the groceries. We're waiting for you at home. Call me the second you see this."
The last message was dripping with irritation.
"Lydia Bennett, what the hell is your problem? Just because I didn't pick you up, you're throwing a fit and refusing to come home? Turn your phone on right now! Don't make Claire wait around hungry. Her stomach is already messed up. Can't you be more considerate for once?"
I shook my head.
I was so sick and tired of him ordering me around like I owed him something.
I stepped off the plane, grabbed my luggage from the carousel, and headed for the exit.
My phone buzzed again.
It was Ethan.
I tapped answer, and his voice slammed into me before I could say a word.
"Lydia, you finally deigned to turn your phone on, huh? When did you get so damn entitled? Throwing a tantrum has limits! Claire and I were worried sick about you. She even cried over it!"
When I didn't say a word, he paused, then softened his tone.
"So... did you make it to Bellmere or not?"
He actually thought I'd show up in Bellmere.
Too bad for him.
I was standing on my home country's soil.
"I landed a long time ago."
Aksara