I Flew Miles Away to Forget Him

"Emily stayed in the hospital for a few days. If she hadn’t been so forgiving and insisted on stopping me, I would’ve called the police to have you arrested," Maxwell spat, his words cutting through the air like shards of glass.

I stood motionless, silent, offering no defense. My indifference only fueled his anger further.

"You’re not the Grace I used to know," he growled. His voice cracked with frustration as he pointed toward the door. "Get out! Get out now! I never want to see you again!"

And just like that, I was kicked out of his house.

The suitcase I had packed in advance now felt like both a burden and a lifeline. Dragging it behind me, I stepped into the stormy night, the cold rain soaking through my clothes and skin.

This was the first time Maxwell had hit me—and it would be the last. But the sting wasn’t from the slap. It was the reason behind it: another woman.

The streets were eerily deserted, not a single taxi in sight. I opened the Lyft app, only to see 45 passengers ahead of me in the queue. Resigned, I kept walking, my suitcase wheels clattering against the wet pavement.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally stumbled upon an Express Hotel. I checked in, drenched and shivering, the sound of the storm raging outside.

Sleep eluded me that night. Tossing and turning, I felt a fever setting in, the heat spreading through my body like a cruel reminder of the cold world I was leaving behind. Thankfully, I still had ibuprofen in my bag—my quiet companion through countless sleepless nights.

By dawn, the fever had subsided. I forced myself to get up, swallow a cold medicine, and face the day ahead.

It took half the day, navigating through multiple departments and signing endless paperwork, but I finally completed my resignation procedures. As I left the office building, a small sense of relief washed over me. At least I hadn’t run into Maxwell.

In the afternoon, I collected my New Zealand work visa without a hitch. I called Air New Zealand to confirm my reporting date, then booked my flight to Auckland International Airport for the day after tomorrow.

The next day, I visited the cemetery, carrying a bouquet of sunflowers—Charlotte’s favorite.

She was my twin sister. Six years ago, while driving along the treacherous Pacific Coast Highway, we were in a car accident. I escaped with minor injuries, but Charlotte stayed frozen in time, forever 21.

The face etched into her tombstone radiated the same youthful beauty that had always lit up my life.

I knelt before her grave, my voice trembling. Charlie, I’m leaving for New Zealand. I may never come back."

Tears blurred my vision as I whispered, "I’m sorry. I can’t look after Maxwell for you anymore."

A sharp, mocking voice cut through the silence.

"Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Maxwell from now on. You’d better roll off to the southern hemisphere quickly and never come back."

I didn’t even notice when Emily approached me. Her presence made my stomach twist.

I fixed her with a cold glare. "What are you doing here?"

Emily smirked, her long, wavy hair cascading like a crown of arrogance. "Reeds are lush, white dew turns to frost. But it’s a pity—you’re just Grace. You’ll never be Charlotte."

My voice was clipped. "Emily, stop dancing around it. What are you trying to say?"

Her words were like knives, sharp and deliberate.

"Grace, do you really think that crawling into Maxwell’s bed with the same face as your sister will make him love you?"

"Don’t delude yourself," she sneered. "Charlotte is his white moonlight—the one he’s always longed for but can never have. The love of his life, forever untouchable."

Her voice dripped with venom. "And you? At best, you’re just a stand-in. A shadow to be summoned and dismissed as he pleases."

I felt the blood drain from my face, but I refused to let her see me break.

Emily’s smile grew even more vicious. "You spend your sister’s money, sleep with your sister’s man… How shameless can you get? Aren’t you afraid she’ll come haunt you in the middle of the night?"

I shook my head, my voice barely a whisper. "No… It’s not like that."

Her cold laugh sliced through me. "Stop lying to yourself. If Maxwell really loved you, why hasn’t he ever talked about marrying you? Why hasn’t he ever acknowledged you publicly at the company?"

"Tell me," Emily’s voice dripped with malice, "when he sleeps with you, does he shout Charlotte’s name in his heart?"

Her words struck like a dagger, and I felt my world shatter around me.

She continued, her words cutting even deeper. "He once asked me, why didn’t you die in the car accident that year?"

The weight of that question slammed into me like a tidal wave. Why didn’t I die?

The last thread of my control snapped.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped Emily across the face.

The world went silent.

Maxwell’s furious roar broke the stillness. "Grace, what the hell are you doing?"