chapter 6
I’d moved out of Kobe’s place for a few days, needing space to untangle the mess of our relationship in my head. With Alex out of town on a business trip, Sophie had insisted I stay with her.
When we got back to her apartment, I helped her onto the sofa. She mumbled, her words thick. “Jennifer, if something’s broken, you throw it away. Don’t force it.”
She’s known me for over a decade. Even if I never said a word, she could read the turmoil inside me. I smiled and stroked her hair. Just then, my phone lit up with a message from Kobe.
Are you done with your tantrum? When are you coming back? Come home and I’ll take you to that Sichuan place. How about that? You’re a grown woman, Jennifer. Running away when you’re upset isn’t the answer. Do you really think this is mature?
For the first time, I didn’t reply.
The apartment was quiet without Sophie’s snores. She drifted off on the couch, a half-empty glass of wine on the coffee table beside her. I picked up the glass, carried it to the kitchen, and stared at the reflection in the window.
Rain was falling again—soft and steady—mirroring that afternoon six years ago when Kobe and I had first met. Back then, the rain had felt like a gift, a chance collision of two tired souls. Now it felt like a metaphor, something that blurred the lines between what was, what is, and what might never be.
I set the glass down and reached for my laptop. Sophie had offered her spare room, but I’d been too restless to sleep. Instead, I opened a blank document and started typing. Not to Kobe, not to anyone, but to myself.