A thousand miles apart, and he'd routinely take a full day to reply to my messages. I'd told myself he was busy with work. I'd made excuses for him.
Turns out, he simply couldn't be bothered.
Tears splashed onto my screen, one drop at a time.
Desperate, I called him.
This time, Kevin looked at his phone.
Then he silenced it and tossed it back onto the table.
He pretended he hadn't seen. Pulled out a deck of cards and started dealing to the others.
"Who's that?" someone asked.
"Millicent." He didn't even look up. "She calls me every damn day. It's exhausting."
Someone sounded confused. "So why not just reject the call?"
Kevin kept dealing, his tone utterly indifferent. "If I reject it, she'll just blow up my texts. I'll let it ring, then tell her later I was too busy to notice."
"Haha! Classic Kevin. You've got her wrapped around your finger."
I couldn't listen anymore.
I stumbled away, my legs barely holding me.
Spring Festival was days away. The streets buzzed with life—clusters of people, couples arm in arm, families laden with shopping bags.
I dragged my suitcase through the crowd with no destination in mind. A ghost among the living.