On Our Anniversary, He Called Her Name Chapter 05

On Our Anniversary, He Called Her Name Chapter 05

The doorbell rang.

I opened the door.

Fate stood outside with a plastic bag in his hand. He glanced inside.

“This is it?”

“This is it.”

He handed me the bag.

I took a look.

Inside were two takeout boxes, a bottle of soda, and a bottle of water.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to drink, so I bought both.”

I stepped aside.

He came in and looked around the room.

Four cardboard boxes.

One bed.

One wardrobe that wouldn’t close.

One folding table.

Two plastic stools.

“Not bad,” he said. “Better than my place right after graduation.”

I set the takeout on the folding table.

He sat on a plastic stool and unscrewed the water bottle.

“Divorced?”

“Divorced.”

“Did he cheat?”

“No.” I snapped apart the chopsticks. “He emotionally chased someone else for three years and finally got her on our wedding anniversary.”

He froze for a moment.

“Then what did you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did you want from him?” he asked. “What did you want when you married him?”

I thought about it.

What had I wanted?

Because he was good-looking?

Because he had a stable job?

Because both families thought we were suitable?

It seemed like I wanted all of that, and also none of it.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Back then, I thought it was time to get married.”

He looked at me and said nothing.

I lowered my head and ate.

Halfway through the meal, my phone rang.

Shew.

I didn’t answer. I declined it.

Two seconds later, it rang again.

Still him.

Fate looked up at me.

I declined it again and put my phone on silent.

“Not answering?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

He nodded and kept eating.

After dinner, he went to throw out the trash, and I washed my face in the bathroom.

When I came out, he stood by the window, looking downstairs.

“He came to pick her up from work,” he said without turning around.

I walked over and stood beside him.

At the entrance, that white sedan was parked by the curb.

River stood beside it in the same pale blue dress from earlier, carrying a bag.

Shew got out of the driver’s seat, walked around to the passenger side, opened the door for her, then took the bag from her hand and placed it in the back seat.

She smiled at him and got in.

He closed the door, walked back to the driver’s seat, and drove away.

I watched the car turn out of the complex and disappear into traffic.

“That’s him?” Fate said.

“That’s him.”

He glanced again in the direction the car had vanished and said nothing.

Around eight that night, Fate left.

He said the studio still had work to handle and that he’d come by tomorrow to help me unpack.

I walked him to the door.

Standing in the hallway, he suddenly looked back.

“That tree,” he said. “Three years ago, on the day you got married, I stood under that tree and sent you a message.”

“I remember.”

“You didn’t reply.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

He looked at me for a while, nodded, and turned to go downstairs.

I closed the door and leaned against it for a long time.

My phone was on silent.

The screen lit up, went dark, then lit up again.

I picked it up and glanced at it.

Shew had called five times and sent three messages.

First message: What do you mean by calling him over?

Second message: We just got divorced, and you’re already bringing a man home?

Third message: Were you with him all along?

I stared at those three messages and smiled.

Then I typed back.

Are you checking up on me?

He replied instantly.

Fate posted on social media. The night view was taken from your balcony.

I paused.

Then I opened Fate’s feed.

There really was a post from an hour ago.

A photo taken from my window, showing the complex at night. The crooked tree bent under the streetlight.

The caption read: Old place.

River had liked it.

Under it was one comment from Shew.

You went to see her?

Fate replied: Yeah.

Shew didn’t reply again.

I stared at those two comments for a long time.

My phone vibrated.

Shew called again.

This time, I answered.

“Did you ask him to come?” His voice was aggressive.

“He came on his own.”

“He came on his own, and you let him in?”

I leaned against the wall and looked at the streetlight outside.

“What else should I do? Make him stand under that crooked tree and post on social media?”

He went quiet for two seconds.

“What’s your relationship with him?”

“We grew up together.”

“Grew up together?” He let out a cold laugh. “A friend you grew up with comes to your place at night? Takes photos from your balcony? Who are you trying to fool?”

“Why would I fool you?” I said. “You don’t pay my salary.”

“You…”

“Anything else? If not, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait.” His voice softened. “She saw that post and asked me who he was. I said he was my ex-wife’s friend. She asked, your ex-wife has friends? I said yes. She said you two must be pretty close. I said we weren’t.”

I listened and said nothing.

“She seems upset,” he said. “She hasn’t said anything.”

“So?”

“So can you stop posting things like that? Can you stop letting him go to your place? She’ll overthink it if she sees.”

I looked outside at the streetlight.

Someone stood beneath it.

Gray hoodie. Plastic bag in hand. Head tilted up toward my window.

It was Fate.

He had left and come back.

“Hello?” Shew said through the phone. “Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.”

“Then do you agree?”

“Agree to what?”

“Don’t let him go to your place.”

I watched the man under the streetlight. He saw me too and waved the plastic bag in his hand.

“He’s back,” I said. “He’s downstairs.”

“What?”

“Looks like there’s barbecue in the bag. Do you want to say something to him?”

He hung up.

I walked to the window and pushed it open.

Fate shouted from below, “I forgot to ask, do you want a late-night snack?”

I shouted back, “Yes!”

He carried the bag into the building.

My phone lit up again.

A message from Shew.

Were you two together all along?

I didn’t reply.

When Fate knocked, I was taking a screenshot of that message.

Keeping it.

It might be useful later.