Three Breakdowns A Year Was All I Was Allowed Chapter 05

It was still dark when I wheeled my suitcase downstairs.

Just before the elevator doors closed, I saw Nathan rush out of the apartment.

He stood in the doorway without calling out.

I didn’t press the button to open the doors, either.

The taxi was far down the road before my phone began to vibrate.

[Come back.]

[We’ll talk about the divorce once you’ve calmed down.]

I stared at the two lines, my finger hovering for a long time.

Finally, I only replied:

[I am calm.]

Only when I reached the airport did I realize my palms were covered in sweat.

Before, even for a three-day business trip, I’d asked him ahead of time.

What medication to pack.

What to do if I couldn’t sleep.

What to do if I got upset while I was alone.

Now nobody was making a checklist for me.

I stood in front of security, and my chest suddenly tightened.

Three Ninety-Nine sent a message.

[Are you there?]

[Yes.]

[Are you scared?]

I looked down at my passport.

[A little.]

[You can go in even if you’re scared.]

[You don’t have to wait until you’re not afraid to leave.]

I looked at the message for a long time, then slowly handed over my passport.

Mom called before I boarded, too.

She didn’t cry this time. She just kept asking whether I’d eaten.

Finally, she said quietly:

“Call me when you land so I know you’re safe.”

I bit my lip.

“Okay.”

She paused for a long time.

“Claire, don’t carry everything by yourself like your brother did.”

My eyes suddenly burned.

“I know.”

I’d just sat down at the gate when Nathan called again.

I answered.

He was silent for a few seconds.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Claire, you’ve just lost your brother, and now you’re suddenly starting a job, moving overseas, and getting divorced.”

“Making all these decisions at once isn’t normal.”

A sharp sting rose behind my nose.

Even now.

He was still judging whether I was normal.

“Nathan.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“This is just the first time I haven’t done what you said.”

The boarding announcement urged passengers to board.

ANast, his voice faltered.

“Come back.”

“I can get rid of the limit.”

“You can talk for as long as you want from now on.

I suddenly remembered the day I miscarried.

I’d asked three times whether the baby was gone.

He’d told me:

“Asking again won’t change the answer.”

I gripped my phone.

“The same goes for the divorce.”

“Giving me back my chances won’t change my answer.”

I hung up.

As the plane took off, the city slowly shrank beneath us.

I didn’t look back.

I just pressed my brother’s bracelet into my palm.

It was late at night when I landed.

An unfamiliar airport. Unfamiliar accents.

Once I closed the hotel room door, the panic hit me anyway.

My chest tightened. My hands and feet went cold.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, afraid to switch off the light.

Finally, I opened the support chat.

[I’m here.]

He only replied:

[Very good.]

Two words.

No [but].

I stared at the screen, and suddenly I was crying.

The next day, I arrived at the office on time.

The project was more of a mess than I’d imagined.

Documents were missing, the client was changing requirements at the last minute, and some of the

team leads hadn’t arrived yet.

A coworker asked:

“Claire, can we still hold today’s meeting?”

My first instinct was to say I didn’t know.

But I swallowed the words before they came out.

“Yes.”

I worked until one in the morning that day.

My legs were shaking when I got back to the hotel.

But there on my phone was the client’s email approving our plan.

I read it three times.

I really could do this.

At the end of the month, my first paycheck went into the new bank account I’d opened.

I sent Mom two hundred dollars.

I also bought myself a coat I’d never been willing to spend the money on before.

I kept every dollar left over in my own account.

Nobody was keeping it for me.

Nobody asked why I’d spent it.

That night, I touched my brother’s bracelet.

“Hey.”

“I’m earning my own money now.”

I smiled after I said it.

But tears fell onto the back of my hand.

This time.

I didn’t count how many times I’d cried that year.