Devouring Love in the Raging Fire

The sticky note she'd left on the fridge before leaving used to say: [There's light cheesecake in the fridge that you like. Don't eat too much, you'll get a stomachache.]

Now it read: [Sydney and Ernest's love-preserving fridge,] with a big red heart drawn beside it.

The couple mugs she'd bought for herself and Ernest had been shoved into the furthest corner and mold had even grown inside them.

The bed sheets in the bedroom had been replaced with a lily-themed set that Sydney apparently liked. The sofa cushions, the carpet, the bedside lamp, the trash bin, the shoe cabinet and the little footstool, everything within sight was unrecognizable to Ivana.

She couldn't even find her slippers. In just one month, it felt as though her five years with Ernest had been wiped clean.

Thank goodness it was summer. Ivana walked barefoot, wobbling slightly on the uneven floor. Her foot no longer hurt much, but her gait was still awkward as she was unused to walking like this.

In the storage room, she found her suitcase. She also dug through the closet, now full of Sydney's clothes, to the farthest corner where she unearthed her own crumpled clothes.

The clothes she'd still wear, she folded neatly. Anything Ernest had bought, she threw away.

For a moment, Ivana wanted to toss out the closet itself, too, since she was the one who'd bought it.

She glanced down at her foot, forget it. It had been used for years anyway, she could just treat it as a donation to the junk hauler.

In the end, there was only a single, lightweight suitcase to take with her, but the pile of trash was enough to fill the entrance of the apartment.

Just as she was about to call the property management to arrange garbage pickup, a timid young girl next door approached her.

"Excuse me, Miss …? You don't want all this anymore?" The girl looked as though she had just moved in, not well-off, by the looks of her circumstances. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, glancing nervously at Ivana.

For a moment, Ivana saw herself eight years ago, when she'd first arrived in this city. The room she'd rented back then had been much worse than this apartment.

Back then, she, too, had timidly asked a girl who was moving out, "Miss, do you not want all of this anymore?"

Ivana answered, "Yes, I don't need it anymore. Do you want it?"

The girl's eyes lit up and she blushed with excitement, "How much do you want for it?"

Ivana smiled, "Nothing. Do you have any coke? If you do, an iced cola will do in exchange."

"Yes, yes, I do!" The girl hurriedly fetched a bottle of icy coke, her slippers dragging noisily across the floor.

After taking a gulp of the coke, Ivana's spirits lifted considerably.

"It's all yours!" She left the keys on the table and, with a swing of her suitcase, headed out the door to catch a taxi.

She said, "Sir, end number 8210, Orchard Apartment." Watching the scenery blur past outside the window, Ivana breathed in the scent of freedom.

Ernest called her again, spoiling the mood, though it didn't matter. She only had ten days left to endure.

"Gaining some guts now, huh? You got discharged and didn't even tell me?" His voice was icy, the words forced through gritted teeth.

"I wish you and Sydney happiness." This time, Ivana said it with an incredible calm.

"That's enough! I've already called you, haven't I? If you keep acting like this, don't blame me for what happens! You know my temper!"

Ivana found herself speechless, "If you don't want to hear me speak, you can hang up, you know."

"Ivana!" he yelled.

"Ah, don't yell at her again. Speak nicely," Sydney's sickly sweet voice interrupted as usual. "Hello? Ivana, it's me, Sydney."

Ivana just said, "Oh."

Sydney invited her, "Three days from now, it's my birthday. I don't have many friends here and Ernest booked the entire Nolen Bar. Can you come? We'll celebrate together, okay?"

"I don't think I'll go. My foot isn't convenient." Ivana said.

Sydney tried to persuade, "Ivana, are you still mad at me? I'll make you a cake to apologize, okay?"