We were on the first leg of our road trip—the one Lynn and I had spent months planning. I was thirsty, so I pulled into a highway service plaza to grab some water. When I walked back out to the parking lot, her car was gone. I called her ten times. Every single one went straight to voicemail, or she clicked decline. An hour later, the call finally connected. But it wasn’t Lynn’s voice on the other end. It was Chad’s. “Hey, man, sorry about that,” Chad said, sounding entirely too casual. “Lynn turned back to pick me up. We just got back onto I-80. We’ll be at your rest stop in an hour, max.” After I hung up, I opened Instagram. Before we left, I had used Lynn’s phone to post a picture of our packed trunk. The comments were already flooded with “goals” and “so jealous.” But the most liked comment was from Chad, posted right before we hit the road. He’d left an angry emoji: “Going on a trip without me? I’m mad!” Lynn had replied: “Come downstairs. I’m coming back to get you.” A bitter laugh caught in my throat. Lynn was the kind of person who found it too much effort to grab me an extra bottle of water when she went to the store. She was too lazy to pull over and pick me up after work, even when my office was directly on her commute. Because of that chronic apathy, I had spent a year and a half begging, pleading, and compromising just to get her to agree to this pre-marital road trip. She’d even made the itinerary herself. Her sudden initiative had made me so excited I hadn’t slept for nights. But standing there on the hot asphalt of the rest stop, the truth settled in. The change I had fought so desperately for, the bare minimum I had practically begged on my knees to receive, was something Chad could extract from her with a single comment. .. By the time Lynn’s SUV finally pulled into the lot, the crowd around the vending machines had cycled through three times. Chad hopped out of the passenger seat, holding a tray of coffee, a bright, easy smile plastered on his face. “Henry, my lord! I know we kept you waiting, so I brought peace offerings!” He pulled a cup from the tray, popped a straw through the lid, and practically shoved it into my mouth. Without thinking, I took a sip. The moment the heavy taste of dairy hit my tongue, I spun around and spat it onto the gravel. My throat instantly tightened. A violent, hacking cough seized my chest. I leaned against the concrete pillar of the rest stop, coughing so hard tears pricked my eyes. Chad gasped, spinning around to look at Lynn. “Lynn, what the hell? I told you to get coffee, why did you get something with milk? Henry is severely allergic!” Lynn didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t know what to get. I just ordered two cappuccinos.” “Are you dense? I told you to get what Henry likes. Did you think a coffee shop only sells cappuccinos just because you saw me order one once?” I wiped the moisture from the corners of my eyes and silently took the bottle of plain water Lynn handed me. Just like a hundred times before, she sighed and murmured, “If it’s Henry, a bottle of water is fine. He’s not like you, Chad. You always make me remember all these complicated orders. It’s annoying.” “But no matter how annoying it was, you still remembered it, didn’t you?” The thought tasted more bitter than the coffee. I loved coffee too. I had asked her to grab me one through her Starbucks app countless times. But she was always too lazy. Too lazy to open the app, too lazy to customize the order. She would promise to do it, and then five minutes later tell me she forgot. Back then, she’d be staring at her phone screen, mid-match in some mobile game, without even looking up. “Water is better for you anyway. Who actually memorizes those complicated coffee orders?” I had ordered a simple iced black coffee in front of her more times than I could count. Yet, that didn’t stick. What stuck was a single, casual observation she’d made two years ago, when she picked us up after a client dinner and saw Chad drinking a cappuccino. Lynn and Chad walked ahead toward the car, laughing about something. I lagged a step behind, rummaging through my backpack for my antihistamines. By the time I looked up, Chad was already settled in the front passenger seat. Our eyes met through the windshield. Chad tapped his temple, looking apologetic. “Look at my brain. Henry, come sit up front. I’ll hop in the back.” “No need,” I said. “No need,” Lynn said at the same time. Lynn glanced at Chad, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. It wasn’t the first time Chad had “accidentally” claimed the front seat. Every single time before, I had made a big deal out of it, politely but firmly asking him to swap. But today? It felt entirely pointless. I looked at Lynn, then pulled open the back door and slid in. Chad spun around in his seat, his eyes wide with forced excitement. “Are we telepathic or what? Lake Tahoe is literally my dream destination. Henry, I had no idea you even wanted to go there, especially since you don’t even ski.” Lynn caught my eye in the rearview mirror. She turned the steering wheel, her voice casual. “We were going to go to the beach, but he was worried about hurricane season. So I changed the destination to Tahoe. Henry said he wanted to learn.” Chad nodded eagerly, reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out a travel pillow I’d never seen before. “Honestly, the beach would’ve been amazing too. I love the ocean.” “Alright, can we have some quiet?” Lynn interrupted, turning on the radio. The song that started playing was Lynn’s morning alarm. My chest tightened. I remembered the morning after she had finally agreed to this road trip. I had been so excited that I woke up early. After turning off her alarm so she could sleep in, I had—on some dark, insecure impulse—opened her phone. Chad had sent her a barrage of texts the night before, complaining about his boss. I scrolled up idly, only to freeze. “Chad: I need a vacation so bad. I want to go to the beach, seriously.” “Chad: Boss Killian, if you guys go to the coast, take me with you~” Lynn had replied: “Sure.” I had stared at those messages for ten minutes, my eyes burning, before locking the phone and putting it back. When Lynn woke up and wrapped her arms around me from behind, I had tried to sound casual as I said, “Hey, let’s not do the beach for our trip. You said yourself there might be storms this time of year.” At the time, I told myself I didn’t mind Chad tagging along. We had all known each other for over a decade. But why did the destination she chose have to be his favorite? Lynn hadn’t hesitated. She kissed my cheek and said, “Sure, let’s do a ski trip instead. I’ll teach you how.” Sitting in the backseat now, a quiet, humorless laugh escaped my lips. Lynn glanced back. “What’s funny?” I shook my head. “Nothing.” I was just laughing at how incredibly naive I had been eighteen months ago. Believing Lynn was changing for me. Believing she cared, even though I didn’t care about skiing and hated the cold. I unlocked my phone, opened my transit app, and booked a one-way train ticket to a completely different city. This time, I was going somewhere I actually wanted to go. We checked into a cozy cabin at the base of the mountains. We were supposed to hit the slopes tomorrow, but I had already checked out of that plan. I only brought my duffel bag inside, leaving my snowboard and gear in the trunk of her SUV. Lynn parked the car and noticed my hands were relatively light. For once, she was observant. “Where’s your ski gear?” “Forgot it,” I lied smoothly. Normally, I would have scrambled back to the car to retrieve it. This time, I just walked inside. I swiped my keycard and went into our room. Lynn came in a few minutes later. Seeing me on my knees, packing my duffel, she walked over. “Are you mad?” I kept my back to her. “No.” She wrapped her arms around me from behind. Lynn’s hugs were always warm and soft. The kind of warmth that made you feel like she could absorb all your rough edges. When we were kids, I only saw her as the girl next door, a year younger than me. But then, in college, she chased away a girl who’d been flirting with me, hugged me tight, and whispered that she was jealous. My heart had hammered so hard back then. Now, it beat at a perfectly dull, flat rhythm. Lynn chuckled softly against my neck. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? Because I brought Chad along?” She kissed my cheek. “I only invited him because he’s your best friend. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even look at him.” She cupped my jaw, forcing me to look at her, and gave me a few light kisses. “Chad said you were sensitive, but I didn’t believe him. Guess he was right.” Her soft laugh felt like a needle pricking an already swollen bruise. Before I could say anything, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, read a text, and let out a helpless sigh. “Chad says his room is freezing. I’m going to take him some of those hand warmers.” She bent down, unzipped my duffel bag, grabbed a pack of the hand warmers I’d bought for “her”, and walked out to the adjoining room. I stared at my rummaged bag, a cold draft sweeping over me. I remembered a night when I was in the shower and realized I’d forgotten my towel. It was sitting right on the vanity, inches from Lynn’s hand. But she was too lazy to stand up and pass it to me. Now, Chad’s room was ten steps down the hall. She didn’t hesitate for a second. Lynn didn’t return for two hours. When she finally walked back in, she looked like she wanted to explain herself, but I had already turned my back to her, pretending to be fast asleep. When I opened my eyes the next morning, Lynn was already dressed. She was standing near the door, carefully adjusting the collar of Chad’s ski jacket. He must have slipped into our room while I was asleep. “Keep the zipper up,” she murmured, her fingers lingering on his lapel. “Otherwise, you’ll catch a cold.” Chad caught me looking and blew a playful whistle. I sat up, watching the effortless intimacy between them. “You guys go ahead today,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m staying behind.” I had already planned on not going up the mountain, but watching them now, I realized my presence would just be an awkward third wheel. “Henry, you’re awake!” Chad blinked, then patted Lynn’s shoulder. “Lynn, Henry’s talking to you. Say something.” Lynn smirked. “He’s not like you, Chad. He doesn’t need to be coddled the second he wakes up.” She turned to me. “I wanted to let you sleep in, but I forgot to set an alarm to wake you. Go wash up quickly so we can head out.” She gathered her gloves. “Chad, let’s head down first. We’ll wait for Henry in the lobby.” I got out of bed and walked over to the window. Down in the snowy courtyard, Chad was walking a few paces ahead, turning back every few seconds to say something that made Lynn laugh. Lynn was animated, talking back easily—not quiet and monosyllabic like she usually was with me. They always had so much to talk about. I wasn’t into gaming, and I hated extreme sports. Lynn, despite her general laziness, loved cave diving, snowboarding, and skydiving. I couldn’t share those thrills with her. But for the ten years we’d been together, I didn’t think it mattered. People didn’t need to be identical to love each other. Yet, watching her radiant smile in the snow, I knew she was happy. A hundred times happier than she ever was spending a boring weekend with me, eating a dinner I’d spent all day sweatily preparing. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Lynn asking when I was coming down. I opened the chat. I wanted to type “Let’s break up.” But my fingers felt heavy, frozen. Instead, I tapped the microphone icon and sent a voice note. “You guys go ahead. I’m not coming.” Then, I recorded a second one. “Lynn, we aren’t right for each other. Let’s break up.” Her text response came almost instantly. “Lynn: K.” Followed by a voice note of her own. “Okay, then hurry up and catch up. We’ll wait for you at the lift.” She was being lazy again. She had probably used the speech-to-text feature for my first message, only read the half that said “I’m not coming,” and completely ignored the second notification. She probably thought my second message was just some trivial follow-up. It had always been like this. I locked my phone and sat in the quiet room. The bedside phone rang. I picked it up. “Yes, I booked a car to the train station. I’m ready.” The temperature drop had triggered a low-grade fever, and my head was beginning to throb. By the time I got down to the lobby, my thoughts were thick and sluggish. When I finally pulled myself together, I noticed my phone was lit up with several missed calls. Before I could check who it was, the phone rang again. I answered. “Henry! Why aren’t you up here?!” Lynn’s voice blasted through the receiver, but at the same exact moment, her real voice echoed across the lobby. I looked up. Lynn was marching toward me, her face dark with anger. When she saw my duffel bag sitting beside me, she snapped. “What kind of stunt are you pulling now?!” “Why didn’t you come up? Do you have any idea how worried Chad was when he couldn’t reach you? He went looking for you, took a bad spill down the slope, and now we can’t find him!” I rubbed my temples, trying to clear the fog in my brain, and looked down at my missed calls. “He never called me—” Lynn slapped the phone out of my hand. It skittered across the tiled floor and out into the snow through the open lobby doors. Her eyes were cold as ice. “Henry, you’re throwing a tantrum just because I brought Chad along. And now you’ve gotten him hurt, and you’re standing here playing innocent?” “I never realized you could be this cruel. He’s your best friend, and you’re willing to let him freeze out there?” My head throbbed violently. I massaged my temples, walked out into the cold air, and picked up my phone from the snow. “If that’s what you want to believe, then fine.” I grabbed the handle of my duffel bag and turned to leave. She grabbed my wrist, hard. “You think you can just walk away after this? You’re coming up the mountain with me to find him.” The fever made my limbs feel like lead. I hadn’t even put on my heavy winter coat, but she dragged me out into the biting wind anyway. Search and rescue was already deploying, but a sudden squall had rolled in, dropping visibility to almost zero. Lynn dragged me upward, her breathing heavy in the quiet of the storm. She frowned, glancing back at me. “How many hand warmers do you have on you? Why is your hand so hot?” My lips were pale, trembling. “None.” She let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Still playing the victim.” We walked another hundred yards. The wind howled, whipping snow into our faces. Suddenly, through the roar of the blizzard, we heard a faint, crying voice. Before I could even process the sound, Lynn violently threw my hand off hers. “Chad! I’m here!” The snow on the edge of the trail was deep and unstable. Lynn’s sudden shove sent me off balance. I stumbled backward, slipping over the ridge, and tumbled ten yards down the steep incline until my back slammed violently against a jagged boulder. Through the blinding whiteout, I looked up. Chad was throwing himself into Lynn’s arms. Their figures merged into a dark silhouette against the white. The wind was deafening, but I heard Chad cry out, “Where’s Henry? Is he okay?!” Lynn held him tighter, her head buried in his shoulder. She didn’t look down the slope toward me once. “Don’t worry about him. You’re the one who matters right now.” When I woke up, I was lying in a small clinic at the base of the mountain. Chad was sitting by my bedside, his eyes red and swollen, gripping my hand tightly. “You’re finally awake! You scared me to death!” “It’s all my fault. There was no cell service up there, so my calls didn’t go through, and then I slipped. I don’t know what Lynn was thinking, dragging you up there in a storm!” I stared at the ceiling, waiting in silence until Chad ran out of things to say. “Henry? Why aren’t you saying anything? Is your throat hurting?” “Of course he has nothing to say. Stop making excuses for him, Chad. He started this.” Lynn walked in, expressionless, carrying a paper container. “I bought you some hot clam chowder. Henry, if you had a fever, you should have just said so instead of coming up the mountain. Why didn’t you tell us?” “You’re an adult. Can you start acting like one?” I stared at the soup, feeling a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. I stirred the chowder with the plastic spoon, but the sight of the heavy cream made my stomach turn. Lynn let out an impatient sigh, snatched the container from my hand, scooped up a spoonful, and shoved it toward my mouth. I jerked my head away. “I don’t eat chowder. I hate mushrooms.” “What are you talking about? You always—” Chad jumped in, reaching to take the cup. “Hey, guys, don’t fight—ah!” The container tipped, spilling the hot soup all over my lap and the hospital bed. Panic flashed in Lynn’s eyes. “Chad! Are you okay?” Chad, his eyes welled with tears, pulled off his soiled jacket and wiped his hands with a tissue. “I’m fine… It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come on this trip with you guys…” “If I just leave, you two won’t fight anymore.” He bowed his head slightly toward me. And that was when I saw it. On the side of his neck, partially hidden by his collar—a fresh, purple hickey. Our eyes met. In that split second, I understood everything. The fever raging in my body seemed to ignite into pure, blinding anger. I raised my hand and slapped Chad hard across the face. “Henry!!” Before I could even lower my hand, Lynn’s palm struck my cheek with a deafening crack. I held my burning face, a high-pitched ring filling my ears. Lynn chased Chad out the door, but she stopped at the threshold to look back at me. “Have you lost your mind? He’s your best friend!” I let out a soft, broken laugh, my palm wet with tears. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A notification showed my train was leaving in three hours. I knew then. It was time to leave.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “549348”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply