Leave You, Find Myself

After the short conversation, Carson and I left the hospital. It was rush hour, and the roads were buzzing with traffic. He helped me with my bags and held me carefully.

Walking toward the parking area, he said, "I had an important performance scheduled for this afternoon, one I couldn't afford to miss, but I canceled it so that I could pick you up from the hospital."

"Thank you so much for that. I appreciate it."

"No worries. As long as you know you matter to me, that's all that really matters."

With no thinking, I asked, "Are there other girls you care about besides me?" I regretted the question the moment it slipped out, realizing it was like I was inviting disappointment.

He hesitated momentarily before finally replying, "Besides you, I care about my family and friends, too. My world can't just revolve around you, right?"

Hearing him, my heart couldn't help but ache. For the past five years, my life has completely revolved around him.

Ring

Suddenly, his phone rang. I think for a while, since the ringtone was so familiar. The ringtone was an English song titled "He Still Loves Me," the theme of a little-known art film about a man who leaves his girlfriend to pursue his childhood sweetheart.

Kazely, his childhood friend, had downloaded the song for him, assuming I didn't understand its meaning.

"It's Kazely."

After that, he let go of my hand, which caused me to fall off the ground. Confused, he asked, "Why are you sitting on the ground?"

Hearing his question, I let out a frustrated laugh. "Don't worry about me, just answer the call."

Subsequently, he hurriedly picked up his phone, and on the other end of the call, I could clearly hear Kazely crying.

"Kazely, what's wrong? Don't cry—tell me what's going on. I'll help you with anything."

"I'm scared… I'm so scared. Please come to my house quickly."

"Okay, I'll be there soon. Just wait for me." After hanging up, Carson glanced at me with a conflicted look, like I was suddenly an inconvenience.

Sensing his urgency, I quickly said, "Don't worry about me—I can get home alone."

"Alright." He didn't hesitate, immediately turning to run towards his car. After a few steps, he paused and glanced back.

For a brief moment, hope flickered inside me—maybe he'd offer to drive me home.

"It's rush hour, so it might be tough to find a cab. Just keep trying if you can't get one right away." And with that, he sprinted off.

Dumbfounded, I stood, letting out a bitter laugh as the wind swept around me.

I had no choice but to grab a cab, even if it was hard.

When I got home, I cleaned up the guest room and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, it was already past 6 p.m., and I noticed Kazely had shared something on her social media.

In the past, I would have opened her posts with anger and jealousy. However, this time, I did so with the detached interest of someone observing gossip, as if Carson were no longer my boyfriend.

It was at that moment I realized my feelings for Carson had shifted. He had once been everything to me—my world, my air. I was the fish, and he was the water. For so long, I believed I would die without him.

Yet now, I understand, I could survive even without the water.

The post was a photo of Kazely cuddled in a man's arms. Although Carson's face wasn't visible, it was easy to tell it was him.

Her caption read: "Only in your arms can I find peace. Surviving the disaster, we walk together."

Surprisingly, I didn't feel any anger or disappointment. Instead, a calm sense of relief washed over me as though a burden had finally been lifted.

In the end, Kazely wasn't wrong. In this relationship, I was always going to be second.

As I was lost in thought, my phone rang. It was Director Vrienne from the overseas media department. I didn't have any idea why she called, but I answered it anyway.

"Naia, you speak Amharic, don't you?"

Puzzled by the sudden call, I answered, "Uhm, yes, I took it as an elective in college."

"I recall that when you first joined the TV station, you spoke about your dream of becoming a renowned war photographer. Is that still your goal?"

My heart pounded with excitement as I answered, "Yes, it definitely is."

"Perfect. Our Ethiopia branch is looking for a war photographer. Are you interested in taking on that role?"

"Definitely!"

"Excellent. Drop by my office tomorrow for a detailed chat."

For years, my life had revolved around Carson, and I had even set aside my own dreams for him. However, now that such a remarkable opportunity had presented itself, I realized it was time to focus on my own aspirations.

Determined to seize this chance, I dusted off my long-forgotten Amharic textbooks. I had initially chosen to study Amharic because of my fascination with Ethiopian culture and art, even though many had dismissed my choice as impractical, claiming it was a minor language with limited prospects and that I could have studied French, Hangul, and so on.

However, I had always envisioned traveling to Ethiopia one day to capture its stunning beauty through my photography.

My stomach began to rumble as I studied until 10:30 p.m., so I ordered some takeout. By 11:30 p.m., I heard the doorknob turn and saw that Carson had finally returned.

"Naia, why are you still awake?" he asked.

"I'm just reviewing some old material and reading some books," I responded without looking up from my notes.

He approached me and explained, "This afternoon, Kazely spotted a cockroach in her house and was so frightened that she ended up crying. She's been afraid of bugs since childhood, so I had to help her deal with it. That's what kept me busy until now."

I laughed softly, "So it was just a bug. I was half expecting you'd tell me a tiger was in her house."

"Could you stop with the sarcasm? She's like a sister. She's quite delicate, and fear of bugs is a common reaction."

"Well, I suppose bugs can be pretty terrifying after all."

"Can you stop being so snarky? My relationship with her is—"

"As pure as mineral water, right? You've said that so many times and I completely believe you."

Carson's frustration was evident, but when his gaze fell on my cast, his expression softened with a hint of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked, puzzled by his sudden change in tone.

He took a deep breath, looking away momentarily before continuing, "On the day of the mountain fire, after rescuing Kazely, I intended to come back for you right away. However, when she began to struggle with breathing, I was terrified she might not survive. So, I took her to the hospital first, planning to return and rescue you as soon as possible."

After hearing his explanation, I felt a surge of anger rather than relief. He was terrified Kazely might suffocate to death, but wasn't he equally concerned that I could have burned to death? And he had planned to take Kazely to the hospital first and then come back for me. If I hadn't jumped from the third floor that day, he wouldn't have been rescuing me—he would have been retrieving my lifeless body.

"I truly understand. You don't need to feel guilty," I said, forcing a bitter smile.

"Thank you for understanding." He leaned in as he spoke as if intending to reward me with a kiss.

I instinctively tried to turn my head away, but he abruptly pulled back before I could.

"Did you eat garlic?" he asked, his face contorted with disgust.

"Yes, I had garlic shrimp."

"You know I can't stand the smell of garlic!" he snapped, storming out of the guest room.

It wasn't just garlic he loathed; he also hated cilantro, ginger, durian, and other foods I loved. Over the five years we were together, I had changed my eating habits to accommodate his preferences.

Time and again, I passed stalls selling durian and stinky tofu, forcing myself to swallow my cravings and walk away. Once, unable to resist, I ate a durian. Even after brushing my teeth and chewing gum outside, he noticed the smell when I got home. Since then, I never indulged in it again.

Reflecting on it now, I realized how deeply I had compromised myself out of love for him. In the end, I felt I had indeed failed.