Chapter 4: A House No Longer a Home

My sudden indifference made Derek stop in his tracks. He frowned and asked, "Are you mad?"

Mad?

No, I hadn’t been mad for a long time. I couldn’t even remember when I stopped being mad. Maybe it was the night I called him, doubled over with cramps on the side of I-94, and he texted back: Sorry, Lillian’s sick. Hope you get home okay. Or was it when, just because Lillian looked at him twice, he gave her the birthday gift he had promised me—a wooden necklace he carved himself?

There were too many incidents; I couldn’t recall them all clearly. But I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t mad anymore. My anger had evaporated, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.

But Derek didn’t believe me. He said coldly, "You know? Last time you stopped me from going, her house was almost robbed."

He looked at me as if blaming me for the attempted break-in at Lillian’s house. For a moment, the only sound was the radiator clanking in the corner.

I might not be mad, but I wasn’t about to let him pin that on me. "She rents in Maple Heights. The rent is sky-high, all the neighbors are wealthy and have security systems. She can’t afford one, and that’s my fault?"

For that matter, her rent was also paid by Derek. The house I shared with him was in a remote neighborhood, surrounded by rough neighbors. To save money, I gritted my teeth and chose this place. Who would’ve thought all the money I saved would end up spent on Lillian by him?

Derek looked at me, disappointment in his eyes. "Lillian is all alone and craves companionship. Don’t you have any empathy? Any conscience?" His voice had a sharp edge, but underneath it, a tremor of uncertainty.

His heart was hopelessly biased. There was no point in arguing further, so I just smiled and said, "Then go keep her company."

Derek was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

A moment later, he sighed and said, "Don’t be mad. I’ll be right back."

"I’ll be right back"—those four words I’d heard countless times. At first, I naively waited for him to return, only to wait until dawn. Derek would say Lillian had a nightmare, so he stayed outside her room all night, worried about her.

Now, as his footsteps faded away, I slept soundly. The whirring radiator was the only lullaby I needed.

In my dream, there was no Derek—only my familiar home and the aroma of roast beef. Wonderful. Soon, I’d be going home. The idea made my chest ache with longing and relief.

Derek, just get lost already.