The torrential rain was drumming hard against the laboratory windows, and I’d been waiting by the entrance for Austin for three hours. Then my phone buzzed, and his voice cut through the static, casual and entirely dismissive. “Cathy used one of her privilege cards,” he said. “She needs me to pick her up. Grab a Lyft back, okay?” It was the sixteenth time this month. It didn’t matter if it was Valentine’s Day or my birthday. If Cathy called, Austin would abandon me without a second thought, running to her side. When they broke up years ago, they had left ninety-nine “relationship privilege cards” unredeemed. They were little handmade tokens of absolute entitlement he had gifted her during their honeymoon phase—coupons for “one free ride,” “one late-night ice cream run,” “one pass to skip an argument.” Now, she was redeeming them like currency, and Austin was paying the debt with my time, my dignity, and my heart. I looked at my rideshare app. There were over a hundred people ahead of me in the queue. I squeezed the handle of my umbrella, my fingers cold and stiff. “Austin, it’s pouring… Can’t you please pick me up first?” There was only a sigh of mild irritation on the other end. “I know it’s raining, Lila, but she said she can’t find a ride, and you’re in the opposite direction. It makes no sense to drive all the way to you and then back to her. It’s just a waste of time.” The line went dead. He had hung up on me. Once again, he chose her. He had sworn to me that Cathy’s last birthday card was the very last one. I guess promises to me were written in sand, while his debts to her were carved in stone. I stared at the screen, a dry, self-deprecating laugh escaping my throat. I closed the rideshare app, scrolled through my contacts, and tapped on my advisor’s name. “Professor Evans, I want to sign up for the three-year isolated Antarctic expedition.” The polar research vessel was scheduled to set sail in three days. … By the time I unlocked the door to our apartment, I was soaked to the bone. Water dripped from my hem, pooling in dark, silent stains on the hardwood floor. But the living room was bathed in a warm, amber glow, thick with a cozy, domestic intimacy that felt entirely foreign. Austin was standing behind the sofa, gently blow-drying Cathy’s hair. Cathy was holding up her phone, showing him something on the screen, and they were laughing, their shoulders brushing. Looking at them, I felt a familiar, dull ache in my chest. It was like stepping into a time machine, watching a movie of their past where I was never cast. Hearing the door, Cathy turned around. “Oh, Lila! You’re back.” Austin placed a hand on her head, gently guiding her back. “Don’t move,” he chided, his voice dripping with affection. “Otherwise you’ll complain I didn’t dry it right.” Then he looked up and noticed my dripping clothes. His brow furrowed in mild surprise. “Did you forget your umbrella?” The exhaustion of the last three hours swelled in my throat, but the words died before they could form. My eyes drifted to Cathy. She was wearing my silk loungewear—the matching set Austin and I had bought together. Cathy and I had grown up together. We were the same height, the same weight, with almost identical measurements. We had shared clothes since we were kids. Back then, we thought our matching tastes were a beautiful proof of sisterhood. Until we fell in love with the same man. That symmetry had curdled into something suffocating. I forced my eyes away, offering the same quiet, agreeable smile I always did. “Yeah… I forgot.” Austin didn’t offer an explanation for why he hadn’t picked me up. He just shrugged. “Well, luckily you’ve always had a strong immune system. A little rain won’t hurt you. Cathy’s different—she’s fragile. She actually wasted one of her privilege cards just because of a drizzle.” Cathy rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him. “I just needed a free chauffeur, and since it didn’t cost me a dime, why not?” They fell back into their easy, bickering rhythm, a practiced dance that seemed designed to keep their history casual and harmless. Without a word, I peeled off my wet coat and walked into the kitchen. On the stove, the pot of ginger tea I had brewed before leaving was stone cold. I poured a cup, intending to just drink it cold to soothe my scratchy throat. Just then, a soft sneeze echoed from the living room. Cathy was curled up on the sofa, clutching her stomach, her face pale, tiny beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Austin rushed into the kitchen, gently taking the cup of cold tea from my hand. He turned on the stove, carefully reheating it, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and honey. I suddenly remembered. It was that time of the month for Cathy. No wonder there was a pharmacy delivery box sitting by the entryway. He had ordered her preferred brand of heating pads. Seeing me standing idle, Austin spoke without looking up, his tone entirely matter-of-fact. “Lila, go help her rub her back, will you? I’ll boil some fresh water.” He handed me a freshly filled hot water bottle. The intense heat stung my frozen hands, a sharp, biting pain. But he didn’t notice. I smiled faintly, taking the bottle, and sat down beside Cathy, gently placing the heat source over her lower back. Austin came in with a fresh mug of tea, draping a soft throw blanket over her knees, fussing over her like an anxious mother hen. Cathy leaned her head against my shoulder, her pale face lighting up with a soft, sweet smile. “You know, when I broke up with him and practically pushed you two together, I knew I made the right choice.” She sighed happily. “Look at this. Now I have both of you to take care of me.” Hearing this, Austin let out a sharp, annoyed scoff, though there was no real heat in it. Cathy giggled, then turned to me, her voice softening into a whine. “Lila, I’m so hungry. I miss your cooking.” Austin straightened up, looking down at me. “Lila, go whip up a bowl of chicken noodle soup for her, okay? She’s really hurting right now.” Cathy weakly grabbed my arm, feigning protest. “Maybe later. She’s been out in the rain; she hasn’t even showered yet.” But Austin was insistent. “She can shower after she cooks. It’ll only take fifteen minutes, and if we eat any later, it’ll mess with your stomach. That’s bad for your digestion.” Before I could answer, he gently guided me toward the kitchen and shut the door behind me. The click of the latch felt like the boundary between two entirely different worlds. As I chopped the vegetables, my mind drifted. The knife slipped, slicing deep into my left index finger. A sharp, stinging pain made me gasp. A drop of bright red blood welled up, dripping onto the cutting board. From the living room, the loud, booming laughter of a comedy show drifted through the door. When the soup was finally ready, I heard Cathy call out from the sofa. “Austin, I’m too weak to move. Can you bring it to me?” Austin entered the kitchen. He picked up the bowl meant for Cathy and turned on his heel, leaving mine sitting solitary and cold on the counter. Cathy always said that those who come first plant the trees, and those who come later enjoy the shade. But this tree had grown entirely in Cathy’s image. The pale-yellow curtains in the living room, the fabric sofa, the kitchenware—all of it had been chosen by Cathy years ago. The branches of this relationship were thick and lush, but they didn’t leave a single inch of shade for me. I felt a sudden wave of dizziness. I walked out and sat on the far edge of the sofa. Austin and Cathy were engrossed in a movie. “Did you see this one? The main character was such an idiot,” Cathy pointed at the screen, laughing. “You insisted on dragging me to the theater for this, and then you slept through the whole thing.” They were sharing a past I had no part in, a language of inside jokes and shared memories. I sat beside them, a ghost in my own home. The air conditioning was blasting, and my wet hair made me shiver. Just as my vision began to blur from the rising fever, a warm cashmere throw blanket was draped over my shoulders. Austin leaned down, carefully tucking the edges around me. “How old are you, Lila? You still don’t know how to take care of yourself.” For a split second, I wanted to lean into that warmth, to believe that maybe I still mattered. But then Cathy rubbed her bare arms. “Brr, this movie is making me feel chilly too.” Austin’s hand on my shoulder stiffened. The next second, the blanket was pulled back. He took the majority of it, draping it over Cathy’s lap, leaving me with a tiny, useless corner that barely covered my knees. The cold air rushed back, and my head throbbed with a vengeance. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up. “You guys watch. I’m going to bed.” Before closing my bedroom door, I couldn’t help but look back. Austin had taken my spot on the sofa. Cathy’s head was resting naturally on his shoulder. They looked exactly like the couple in the movie—perfect, peaceful, and meant to be. I collapsed onto the bed, my head pounding like a drum. I don’t know how much time passed before the door clicked open. Austin walked in, muttering under his breath. “Cathy went home. It’s so late, and she refused to let me drive her.” He was staring at his phone, tracking her location. “Okay, she made it back safely. Thank god, otherwise—” He finally looked up and saw my flushed face. “Lila?” He reached out, pressing his palm against my forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up.” He hurried to the bathroom and brought back a cold, damp cloth, gently laying it over my brow. His face was inches from mine, his eyes wide with a concern that didn’t look fake. A sudden, sharp ache rose in my chest. “Austin,” I whispered. “I’m leaving.” He paused, a soft, indulgent chuckle escaping him. “Are you delirious from the fever? Where would you go?” But when he checked the thermometer, his smile vanished. “103. This is too high. I’m taking you to the ER.” He scrambled to grab his car keys and coat. Watching his frantic silhouette, the icy wall around my heart cracked just a little. Maybe he did care. Maybe, if things got bad enough, he would choose me. Before he could even put his jacket on, his phone rang. It was Cathy. “Austin, Buster is gone!” Her voice was frantic, cracking with tears through the speaker. “I’ve looked everywhere. He must have slipped out…” Buster was the cat they had adopted together. When they broke up, Cathy kept him. He had become Austin’s permanent excuse to visit her apartment. Austin’s hand froze on his car keys. “Stay with me,” I said softly, looking at him with the very last shred of hope I possessed. “Please.” Whether it was going to the hospital or just staying in this room, I didn’t care. I just needed him to choose me, just this once. Austin avoided my gaze. “Take some fever reducers first,” he said, pulling a random box of pills from the medicine cabinet and shoving them into my hands. “Buster is like my kid, Lila. It’s pouring outside; he’ll be terrified.” He turned and practically ran out of the room, his departure so hurried it felt like an escape. The front door slammed shut. I looked down at the box of medicine in my hand. It wasn’t a fever reducer. It was Cathy’s prescription allergy medication. He kept it stocked here, always. I threw the box into the trash can, picked up my phone, and smiled. It was a clean, hollow feeling. I opened my email, pulled up the Antarctic research project agreement, and typed my signature at the bottom. After sending it, I stumbled out to the living room to look for actual medicine. My legs felt like lead, every step dizzying. I pulled open the drawer of the coffee table. Inside were Cathy’s hydrating face masks. Underneath were Cathy’s vitamins. Cathy’s hand creams. In this apartment that was supposed to belong to Austin and me, every corner was a museum of their shared life. I finally found some generic cold medicine, swallowing two dry pills. They scraped down my dry throat, leaving a bitter, burning trail. As I sat there, waiting for the medicine to kick in, I opened Instagram. There, at the top of my feed, was a post Austin had uploaded just minutes ago. It was a photo of Cathy holding a damp but safe Buster. Austin’s hand was resting gently over hers on the cat’s back. The caption read: The family is whole again. Mommy and Daddy will always love you, buddy. I stared at the words Mommy and Daddy for a long time. When I refreshed the feed, the post was gone. I didn’t know if he had customized his settings to hide it from me, or if he had deleted it entirely. I didn’t have the energy to care. Then, a text from Austin popped up. Still looking for Buster. It’s pouring out here, go to sleep. He didn’t even bother to coordinate his lies. The cat was safe, but he wanted to stay with her anyway. Are you staying the night at Cathy’s? I typed. A long pause, then: We broke up a long time ago, Lila. Don’t overthink things. I tossed the phone onto the nightstand. I lay back in bed, letting the low fever burn through me all night. When the sun finally rose, my pillow was damp with a mixture of sweat and tears I didn’t remember crying. The next morning, Austin shook me awake. “Lila, happy third anniversary.” He pulled open the curtains, letting the harsh, bright sunlight flood the room. “We’re going to the zoo today.” My head was still spinning, but he pulled me out of bed and led me downstairs. When we reached his car, I saw Cathy sitting in the passenger seat. “If I hadn’t reminded him, you’d be spending your anniversary getting yelled at,” Cathy said, stepping out of the car with a teasing smile. She stood close to Austin, fixing his collar. “He was never this forgetful when we were dating.” Austin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, slipping into the driver’s seat. Cathy took my hand, her smile bright. “Lila, you’re just too sweet to him. With guys like Austin, you have to keep them on a tight leash.” It wasn’t that I had never fought for us. In the beginning, Austin would apologize profusely if he was even ten minutes late for a date. Once, after our worst argument, he drove eight hours through a blizzard to the field station where I was doing research. He knelt in the snow, crying, swearing he would never make me wait again. I had laughed through my tears, and he had looked at me like I was his entire world. “Who else would I ever bend the knee for, baby?” he had whispered. But then Cathy returned, and the “privilege cards” started appearing. Our dates were constantly cut in half. Our dinners were interrupted. It became an unspoken rule: Cathy always came first. And today was no different. It wasn’t our anniversary celebration; it was just a trip Cathy wanted to take. The zoo was packed. At the main entrance, the crowd split into two paths. To the left was the Polar Pavilion. To the right was the Artificial Rainforest. Our group ticket required us to scan in at different gates. The Rainforest was hosting a special “Couples’ Challenge” today, requiring pairs to enter. Cathy looked at me, a delicate, apologetic expression on her face. Before she could speak, Austin made the decision. “Lila, you go to the Polar Pavilion,” he said, pushing me gently toward the left turnstile. “You’re always talking about wanting to go to Antarctica anyway. Plus, it’s cold in there—it’ll help bring your fever down.” He took the remaining two tickets and guided Cathy toward the Rainforest entrance. I stood at the gate, watching their figures blend into the colorful sea of tourists. The cold air of the Polar Pavilion hit my face, making my joints ache. I found a quiet bench in the corner and sat down, burying my face in my hands. A young couple walked past, holding hands. “Let’s go to the Rainforest next! They have that couples’ compatibility game.” “I heard the grand prize is that limited-edition plush penguin. You have to win it for me!” I stood up, walking slowly through the exit, and made my way around the massive park to the exit of the Artificial Rainforest. A loud, cheering crowd had gathered around a stage. As I drew closer, the sheer volume of the spectators pushed me toward the front. Above us, on the big screen, Austin was holding Cathy. They were locked in a deep, passionate kiss. The host’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Ten more seconds!” Austin’s hand was resting firmly on the small of her back, holding her protectively against him. Cathy was on her tiptoes, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, responding with equal fervor. “Three! Two! One!” The crowd erupted into wild applause. The host handed Austin the microphone. “Congratulations to our champions! Sir, do you have anything you want to say to your lovely lady?” Austin took the mic, looking down at Cathy with a tenderness that made my throat tighten. “You will always have special privileges,” he said, his voice echoing clearly. Cathy blushed, kissing his cheek. The crowd cheered again. Beside me, a teenage girl sighed. “Oh my god, they are so cute. He is totally head over heels for her.” I looked down, a quiet smile spreading across my lips. Yes, he was. He was just head over heels for the wrong girl. As the crowd dispersed, Cathy and Austin walked down from the stage. She was clutching the giant, limited-edition plush toy, her lipstick noticeably smudged. Seeing me, she didn’t look flustered at all. Instead, she reached into her bag and handed me a small, palm-sized keychain. “Lila! I knew you’d love this,” she said brightly. “I made Austin enter the contest just so we could get this little guy for you.” I looked down at the keychain. The stitching was crooked, and the price tag was still stuck to the plastic back. $4.99. The real prize, the one that required the kiss, was held tightly in her arms. Austin avoided my eyes. “I know you like those little trinkets,” he muttered. “Consider it an anniversary gift.” Our third anniversary. I waited three hours in a storm, only to be told to get an Uber. I suffered through a 103-degree fever, only for him to leave and find her cat. I was pushed into a freezing exhibit while he kissed her on a stage. And now, he was handing me a five-dollar leftover as an anniversary present. “What kind of contest was it?” I asked quietly. Cathy’s smile stiffened slightly. “Just a silly game. The host was just playing up the couples’ thing for the crowd. It didn’t mean anything.” Austin frowned, his tone dipping into irritation. “Lila, don’t make a scene in public.” I stared at him. Apparently, simply asking a question was now considered “making a scene.” I squeezed the cheap plastic keychain, the edges digging sharply into my palm. “Austin,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Let’s break up.” But right then, a massive, noisy parade float rounded the corner, the music blasting so loudly it shook the ground beneath our feet. My goodbye was swallowed whole by the noise. Austin squinted at me. “What did you say?” Beside him, Cathy was reaching up to adjust his collar, her movements so natural, so wifely. Suddenly, the fight drained out of me. It was just so incredibly exhausting. “Nothing,” I said. Austin let out a sigh of relief, turning back to Cathy. “Are you tired? Do you want to head back?” Cathy blushed, swatting his arm. “It’s your fault for kissing me so long.” They walked ahead, their shoulders aligned. This time, I didn’t follow. Half an hour later, a text from Austin popped up. The parking lot is a nightmare and there are no Lyfts. I’m going to drop Cathy off first. You grab a cab, okay? It was always the same sentence. I stared at the screen, and for the first time in years, I felt entirely light. Five hours later, I was sitting in the back of a taxi heading to the airport. Before blocking his number, I sent him one last text. Austin. I don’t want either of you anymore. Austin stayed at Cathy’s place until the following evening before he realized something was wrong. Lila hadn’t texted him once. When he tried calling her, the call went straight to voicemail. On iMessage, his texts were met with a chilling silence—and then, a red exclamation point. A sudden, heavy weight dropped in his stomach. He immediately dialed the number for her university laboratory. Her lab partner, Mark, answered. “Lila?” Mark sounded confused. “She accepted the professor’s offer yesterday.” Austin’s hand tightened around his phone. “What do you mean?” “She joined the three-year Antarctic research expedition,” Mark said. “She boarded the vessel. She won’t be back for three years.”
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