I had just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease when I forgot to pick up my son from kindergarten again. When Tommy got home, he angrily threw his backpack at me: “What’s wrong with you?! You’re nowhere near as good as Aunt Rachel!” Ethan also looked at me with disdain: “Are you becoming senile? Go wash my underwear!” As days went by, my memory got worse and worse. On my birthday, my husband and son were celebrating with his first love. I turned to go home but couldn’t remember the way. I got on a bus, heading to the only address left in my mind. Later, someone called me: “Samantha, are you done with this drama? Now you’ve even run away from home?” I frowned at the vaguely familiar yet strange voice: “Who are you?” Three months ago, I noticed my memory was getting worse, and I often became forgetful. After a hospital examination, I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I couldn’t believe it and repeatedly asked the doctor if this was really my diagnosis. I was only twenty-six years old. Ethan and I were college classmates. We got married after an unexpected pregnancy after graduation. Now our son is three years old. The doctor advised me to inform my family immediately and come to the hospital together to discuss the treatment plan. This disease requires a lot of help and care from family members. I opened Ethan’s contact in my phone, hesitating. Today was the day Rachel returned to the country. Ethan called me first: “I have a business dinner tonight. You go pick up our son.” Before I could respond, he hung up. I stared at the darkened screen and smiled bitterly. After some thought, I decided to tell my mom. “Al… what? I’ve never heard of this disease. Are you sure the doctor isn’t trying to scam you?” “How much does it cost to treat this? I don’t have money right now. Your brother is getting married soon.” The sharp voice from the other end of the line made my temples throb. I brushed her off with a few words and hung up. Making this call was indeed unnecessary. I looked up at the doctor across from me: “Doctor, you can just tell me the treatment plan. I can take care of myself.” Not wanting the doctor to see my embarrassment, I quickly left the hospital with the treatment plan in hand. On my way home, I felt like there was something I needed to do, but I just couldn’t remember what it was. When I reached the entrance of our community, I saw Ethan standing under a streetlight. I was delighted, thinking he was waiting for me, and was about to approach him. A girl in a pink dress bounced over to him and gave him a hug. Ethan, usually cold and aloof, now had a gentle smile on his lips. He ruffled the girl’s hair, put his arm around her shoulder, and they drove away together. At home, I sat in the dark living room without turning on the lights. My mind was filled with the scene I had just witnessed. After who knows how long, I heard a sound from the entrance. My son rushed to me and threw his backpack at me: “Mom! Why didn’t you come to pick me up?! The teacher called you but you didn’t answer!” “You’re nowhere near as good as Aunt Rachel!” I picked up my phone and realized it had died. I tried to comfort him softly: “Tommy, I’m sorry. Mommy forgot…” Ethan came in shortly after, his face full of anger. He walked over and said: “Didn’t I tell you to pick up our son?!” “He waited at the kindergarten until he was the last one left. He cried so much even the teacher couldn’t bear it!” “You’re a stay-at-home mom now, enjoying an easy life without having to work. Can’t you even handle this simple task of picking up our son?!” I opened my mouth, wanting to explain. I forgot because I’m sick. But looking at the two nearly identical faces in front of me, both scolding me, I swallowed my explanation and grievances.
I didn’t expect Rachel to come find me so soon. She asked to meet me at a coffee shop but arrived nearly half an hour late. Rachel sat down across from me. Her face was actually a thorn in my heart. On Ethan’s computer, there was a folder named “first love”. It was full of her photos. When I accidentally opened it, Ethan acted nonchalant, saying he kept these just to reminisce about his youthful self, not because of her. Looking at Rachel up close, her makeup was exquisite, her smile sweet. As for me, though we were about the same age, I looked much older. I rarely put on makeup or dressed up after marriage, and my complexion wasn’t good. “Samantha, long time no see!” She spoke first with a bright smile, her eyes curved like a cunning fox. I always felt inferior in front of Rachel. She was my half-sister, sharing the same father but different mothers. The first time I met Rachel was on my eighth birthday. My mom rarely took me to fancy restaurants, but she did that year to celebrate. Knowing how hard it was for my mom to earn money, I only dared to order the cheapest items on the menu. At the table next to us, another family was also celebrating a birthday. A girl in a beautiful puffy dress wore a birthday crown, smiling happily. As for me, my clothes were wrinkled with visible mending patches. I lowered my head, but then I heard a familiar voice. The man with his back to me turned sideways, and I realized it was my dad. He was smiling and singing happy birthday to that girl. The fatherly love that seemed so out of reach for me was all given to Rachel. She was beautiful and had many admirers at school, but she turned them all down. Until she started dating Ethan, an upperclassman. Everyone said they were a perfect match. I was always the ugly duckling, the most inconspicuous existence in the crowd. That year, Rachel suddenly went abroad and broke up with Ethan. He tried desperately to keep her, but couldn’t. In college, I deliberately imitated Rachel’s style and preferences to get close to Ethan. My intentions were obvious, and after persistent pursuit, he chose me. So, I always felt that I had stolen Ethan. Now the rightful owner had returned. I took a sip of the floral tea in front of me and spoke softly: “It has been a long time. Did you ask me out today for something specific?” “Nothing special, just catching up.” “I saw Tommy yesterday. He’s very cute, looks a lot like Ethan.” “They were quite upset yesterday… I told them not to give you a hard time when they got home.” Her tone was polite, but there was an unmistakable hint of acting like the lady of the house. I looked up at her and smiled: “My husband and son certainly won’t give me a hard time.” I emphasized the word “my”, smiling brightly. Only I knew that my heart was already panicking because of her, my nails almost digging into my palms.
After delivering lunch to my son, I passed by Ethan’s company and had a sudden urge to go up and see him. Ethan had grown his small studio into a listed company that now occupied an entire office building. I had witnessed every step of his journey. Carrying some afternoon tea, I had just stepped out of the elevator when the receptionist greeted me with a smile: “Mrs. Shen, it’s been a while since you last visited!” I smiled faintly and nodded at her, then walked inside. Ethan was in a meeting, so I sat outside waiting for him. “Samantha!” I looked up, startled to see Rachel. What was she doing here? “I got bored, so I came to work for Ethan,” she said. I glanced at the name tag on her chest: ‘Executive Assistant’. “Let me get you some tea. The weather’s getting cold.” Rachel brought out a cup of tea from the pantry. Just as she was about to place it in front of me, someone rushing by bumped into her. She lost her balance and fell to the ground, shattering the teacup. Her palm was deeply cut, blood spilling onto the floor. I crouched down, wanting to check her injury. Ethan saw the injured Rachel through the glass of the conference room. He dropped the documents in his hand and pushed open the door. He shoved me aside and pulled Rachel into his arms. I fell to the ground, staring at him in shock. He turned his head to look at me, frowning: “What’s wrong with you?!” “Rachel and I are old classmates. She just came to help me at the company.” “Can’t you keep your female jealousy out of my company?!” Rachel, in pain from the shard in her palm, cried out but still said softly to Ethan: “It’s not Samantha’s fault… I was just careless…” Ethan glared at me, then carried Rachel out, full of concern. I sat on the floor, watching his back, rubbing my bruised arm, trying hard to suppress the rising bitterness. An alarm reminded me it was time to pick up my son from kindergarten. Since the last incident, I had set reminders for everything. Standing at the kindergarten gate, I looked around. My son walked up to me, looking deflated. I gently stroked his head: “What’s wrong, son? Did something unpleasant happen today?” He looked up at me, his eyes as cold as Ethan’s: “Mom, can’t you dress up a bit?” “Like Aunt Rachel.” “Look at other kids’ moms. I feel so embarrassed with you like this!” I looked down at my yellowing white down jacket and worn-out canvas shoes. My expression stiffened, and I forced a laugh: “Okay, okay. Mommy will dress up nicely to pick you up tomorrow.”
When Ethan came home, I was in the bathroom hand-washing his and our son’s underwear. He walked into the bathroom, threw a pair of underwear he had just taken off into my basin, and went into the shower. Without saying a word. I looked up at myself in the mirror, sallow and thin, with dark circles under my eyes. No wonder our son was embarrassed by me, and my husband was protecting his first love. While Ethan was showering, I opened the wardrobe and found the black lace lingerie I had bought years ago in the corner. Ethan and I hadn’t been intimate for a long time. I put it on and stood in front of the mirror, feeling a bit awkward, then quickly covered it with a bathrobe. I lay on my side on the bed, facing away from the bathroom door. Hearing the water stop, Ethan opened the door and walked out. I unconsciously gripped the bedsheet tightly. Ethan got into bed on the other side. I could smell his shower gel. I turned to look at him. He had his hands crossed on his chest, eyes already closed. I took off my bathrobe and pulled Ethan’s hand to my chest. He half-opened his eyes, glanced at me, and pulled his hand away: “I’m a bit tired today. Not in the mood.” I froze. His cold attitude made my attempt at seduction seem so ridiculous. I said nothing, turning over noisily to show my dissatisfaction. Ethan, perhaps feeling his behavior was a bit excessive, suddenly hugged me from behind and kissed my hair: “Honey, I didn’t mean anything by it… I really am tired today.” “Rachel told me today that it was another colleague who bumped into her.” “I misunderstood you, honey. I’m sorry…” “Next week is your birthday. How about I take you to the Sky Restaurant to celebrate? Our son has been wanting to go there too.” After a long silence, I finally mumbled in his arms: “Okay.” Hearing my agreement, he let go of me. Soon, I heard his steady breathing. I comforted myself. It’s okay. Anyway, my memory is bad now. I’ll soon forget these grievances.
On the day of my birthday, after sending our son to kindergarten in the morning, I specially booked a makeup artist, wanting to dress up nicely for the evening date. The makeup artist worked on my face for over an hour. Looking in the mirror, I seemed like a completely different person. The life of a housewife had long been seasoned with the flavors of daily chores, making me forget what it was like to wear makeup. From day to night, I hardly did anything. I just stood by the window, eagerly anticipating Ethan’s car. But the clock on the wall was approaching 9 PM, and Ethan still hadn’t returned. The calls I made and messages I sent to him went unanswered. An hour ago, I had asked the company receptionist, who said Ethan had left work after 6 PM. Why hasn’t he come home yet? I opened SnapChat, habitually clicking on the new updates notification. The first update was from Rachel, posted 10 minutes ago. [Being loved really can make you feel like a little girl again. Another year older!] The photo showed Rachel in a princess dress, holding a birthday cake. Behind her was the night view from the rooftop restaurant. I immediately recognized the reflection in the glass of the photo. Sitting across from her were my husband and my son. My hand holding the phone trembled involuntarily. So while I was eagerly anticipating, they were celebrating Rachel’s birthday. I rushed out the door, stood by the roadside, anxiously waving at the passing cars, watching the traffic flow. All the taxis that passed by were full. Finally, I managed to hail one. I urged the driver to go faster and faster. The driver lazily glanced at me through the rearview mirror: “Going on a date, young lady?” I met his eyes in the mirror: “Going to catch a cheater.” The next second, I clearly felt the car speed up. Getting out of the car, I ran into the Sky Restaurant, straight up to the 58th floor. Standing in front of the glass door, I was still panting heavily. Ethan had booked the entire place for Rachel. The huge restaurant had only the three of them. Every corner was carefully decorated, full of jasmine flowers, Rachel’s favorite. My husband was feeding cut steak to another woman. My son was taking photos of them with his phone. Anyone who saw this would exclaim, what a happy family of three. Looking at the scene before me, I trembled with cold all over, as if I had fallen into an ice pit. I felt like a third party, peeking at someone else’s happiness. Their every move was like a needle stabbing into my heart, making it hard to breathe. My legs were nailed to the spot, lacking the courage to step forward. I don’t know how I left the restaurant. I walked on the street, with horns occasionally telling me to move to the side. Suddenly, a speeding motorcycle brushed past me, almost hitting me. The rider even turned back and cursed at me. I crouched by the roadside, not knowing where to go. When my legs went numb from crouching, I stood up, feeling dizzy. I rubbed my aching temples and looked at the street in front of me, suddenly feeling unfamiliar. I opened the map app, wanting to take a taxi home, but my finger paused on the destination field. Where is home? I tried to search for the address in my mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember. There was only one address in my mind. I tried entering it. It turned out to be 500 kilometers away from here. I booked a bus ticket departing in thirty minutes.
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