“Why are you back so late?” he asked, his tone sharp.
I paused, weighing my words before answering. “I didn’t expect it to take so long.”
His brow furrowed. “You walked back?”
I nodded slightly, but he sneered, “You should have taken a taxi. I can’t believe you would walk all this way when you’re sick.”
I didn’t argue back. After all, there was no real hardship in my actions. I had dedicated six years to him, and if he wanted to scold me, I accepted it.
As I walked home today, I was quietly saying goodbye to the past. I was letting go of that rainy night when love first blossomed, bidding farewell to the young man who had carried me through long streets while battling a high fever.
During dinner, I noticed Landon glancing at me repeatedly. I pretended not to notice, taking small sips from my bowl of rice. It wasn’t until I set my bowl and chopsticks down, feeling eighty percent full, that I heard him say, “I noticed you liked that post on Instagram today.”
I froze, momentarily startled. I vaguely recalled that my actions might lead him to think I was moving on. Quickly, I pulled out my phone. “Sorry, I’ll remove it now.”