Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I heard the sound of slippers as I entered. The lights were on, which surprised me. Dylan had already changed into loungewear and was holding a book.

"Why are you back so early?" I asked.

He adjusted his glasses. "The mountain was closed due to heavy snow. I just took a look from below and came back," he replied.

"Oh," I said, heading to the bedroom to change.

"Did you go out with Ethan?" he asked.

I turned around, surprised. It was the first time he’d asked about my personal life. "Yeah, I was bored, so we went out for a walk," I said.

"He’s a troublemaker. You should stay away from him," Dylan said.

In Dylan’s eyes, Ethan—unemployed and with unconventional ideas—was no better than a street thug. To make matters worse, they’d never gotten along.

I didn’t want to argue with him, so I nodded vaguely, not noticing the complicated look in his eyes as I walked away.

My birthday was the day after Luna’s death anniversary—a cruel coincidence. After marrying Dylan, I’d stopped celebrating. My mother would ask, and I’d say, "I’m getting older. Another year doesn’t matter." But deep down, I’d still hoped he’d remember. But he never did—he was never home on my birthday anyway.

Sure enough, on my birthday, only Ethan sent a message and a gift. In the past, I’d been too upset to care, but now I realized: he was the only one who remembered this special day—the day without Luna Parker.

[Thank you.] I texted back.

[You never used to reply to me.] he wrote.

See? He even knew. All these years, I’d revolved around Dylan—happy when he was happy, sad when he was sad, even feeling sorrow for him because he missed another woman.

But how could a living person compete with the dead?

Maybe it was time for me to let go.

I had no mood to celebrate. Dylan stumbled home drunk in the middle of the night. He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. "Sui Sui, I closed another deal. If it goes well, we’ll make this much," he said, holding up his fingers to show me the amount.

I helped him steady himself, forcing a smile at his gesture—but the smile didn’t reach my eyes.

Dylan passed out without even washing his face. I sat in the living room, silent all night. I wanted to let go, but I couldn’t. I’d fought so hard to get close to him, to be with him—how could I give that up now?

Memories flooded back to the last time I’d seen Luna Parker.