He Stopped Protecting Me When She Came Back

4: 4

When Roderick opened the basement door, I was sitting beside the car shell.

I wasn't shaking, and I wasn't crying. I just looked up at him and smiled.

His eyes lit up at once.

"Maggie."

He rushed over and pulled me in, his palm pressed flat against my back.

"Thank God. I knew you could do it."

Florence stood in the doorway. Something like surprise crossed her eyes, and then she smiled.

"See, Rod? Scientific intervention works."

Roderick held me tighter.

"You're finally better."

I rested my chin lightly on his shoulder.

"Mm. Better."

For the next two weeks, I acted like a normal person.

I got up early to make porridge, ironed Roderick's shirts, and when Florence came by to take her notes, I even poured her a glass of warm water without being asked.

The way Roderick looked at me slowly eased.

He took me out to see friends, telling everyone that Florence had saved us both.

Someone praised how good she was.

Roderick nodded, and there was a lightness in his voice I hadn't heard in a long time.

"She pulled me out of the mud too."

I sat beside him, looking down as I pinched off a withered leaf from a sunflower.

I'd bought that pot the day I was discharged three years ago.

Roderick had held me up while I took forever choosing it, saying the house should always have a bit of color in it.

Now it sat by the gap on the balcony, its leaves dried and curling at the edges.

I watered it every day, and still it withered, bit by bit.

Florence followed my gaze and said with a smile, "Plants have to adapt to an open environment too. You can't shelter them so much."

Roderick said, "She's right."

I nodded.

"Right."

That evening, I cleaned the study.

The document folder wasn't sealed shut, and a corner of an English letterhead was showing.

I pulled it out and saw the transfer consent form Roderick had already signed.

Destination: Munich, Germany.

Term: three years.

Pressed beside it was a plane ticket to Munich for the same day.

The name on it was Florence.

At the very bottom was a drafted breakup compensation agreement.

One house, one million dollars, and once the care arrangement ended, neither party would interfere with the other.

I sat at the desk and read through those few pages, one after another.

So the so-called recovery was just the paperwork that lightened his load before he left.

He wanted me to look normal.

That way, when he walked out, he could say I was already better and didn't need him anymore.

Roderick's voice came from outside the door.

"Maggie, I'm working late tonight. I won't be coming home."

I put the documents back where they were.

"Okay."

He seemed pleased by how calm I was.

"Get to bed early. Don't wait up for me."

"Mm."

When the lock clicked shut, I walked out to the balcony and touched the sunflower's dried-out leaves.

The veins were so brittle they crumbled at a touch.

I found the phone Roderick had hidden on top of the cabinet, a thin crack running across the screen.

I opened the notes and typed slowly.

"Your stomach medicine is in the second drawer on the left. Don't take it on an empty stomach."

"You're allergic to mango. When you buy a cake, don't just pick the pretty one."

"Your knees ache on rainy days. Remember to turn on the heat."

"Don't overwater the sunflower on the balcony. It didn't drown. Its roots rotted a long time ago."

I paused for a while, then kept writing.

"Roderick, I used to think that if I took that car for you, I could take on every disaster between us too."

"But people get tired."

"You're finally free."

"And just like you wanted, I've recovered too."

"In this moment of dying, I'm perfectly clear-headed, perfectly normal."

Three in the morning, and the wind was strong.

I lined my slippers up neatly at the edge of the balcony.

The phone lay beside the slippers, its screen resting on that note.

The stainless steel railing that had protected me for three years, Roderick had torn down with his own hands two weeks ago.

He'd said it was nothing, really, with it open like that.

Bracing myself against the wall, I stepped barefoot onto the cold edge.

The city lights below were far away.

The phone buzzed suddenly.

A message from Roderick.

【I've booked the flight for tomorrow afternoon. I'm going to Munich with Florence.】

【There's an agreement on the desk in the study. Maggie, since you've recovered, let's end this with a little dignity.】

I glanced at it, then pressed the screen dark.

The wind caught my nightdress.

I took one step forward and jumped