Love Under the Moonlight

This year, while watching a documentary, I casually mentioned something and Nick remembered it.

He said, "The team over there said it's predicted to be relatively safe these days. I've already arranged everything, Helen, just follow me."

After breakfast, he had already packed my luggage. Anyone would praise him as the perfect family man.

I once dreamed of watching the Earth's pulse with Nick, sharing every moment worth remembering. Now, he was still with me, but his heart was with another woman.

He kept glancing at his phone, a look of unmistakable tenderness on his face.

I glanced over and asked, "What are you looking at?" I thought he would panic, that he would explain.

But he calmly handed me his phone without hesitation. "I've adopted a shark. I was just checking its location."

I lowered my gaze and saw a cartoon shark icon with the name 'Yvonne' on its head, along with longitude and latitude coordinates in the corner.

He appeared composed. If I hadn't seen the chat interface reflected in his glasses earlier, I might have believed him. Nick, you lied to me again.

I handed his phone back and casually asked, "Why did you name it Yvonne?" That woman's name was Yvonne Chadwick and he called her Yvonne.

Nick's pupils contracted as he carefully studied my expression. Seeing no change in my demeanor, he let out a subtle sigh of relief, "When I first adopted it, it liked swimming south, so I gave it that name."

I kept ask, "When did you adopt it?"

"Three or four months ago," he answered. So, it had already been that long.

He clearly didn't want to dwell on the topic. "If you are interested, I can help you adopt one too. Watching it occasionally is quite stress-relieving."

Stress-relieving, was that his excuse for keeping another woman? I didn't respond to him. Turning away, I couldn't help but bend over slightly.

He was quick to support me, asking nervously, "Helen, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Should I carry you?"

There was still some distance to the volcano. Swallowing the nausea that surged up, I shook my head and said, "The path is rough, don't carry me."

He reached out to hold my hand, but I quickened my pace and walked ahead to a spot closer to the volcano.

At the moment when the magma erupted, it felt as though my heart resonated with the planet. As the scorching heat enveloped me, the sour pain in my heart seemed to evaporate.

Amid the roaring sounds, I thought I heard someone shouting my name. At some point, Nick had come to my side. He held me tightly, leaning in as if to kiss me.

I dodged and he asked, hurt, "Why did you avoid me? Didn't you want a photo in front of the volcano?" He remembered my joking remark about kissing in front of a volcano.

At the time, I had just finished watching a movie and was struck by how the protagonists' love was as pure and intense as magma. He had kissed me then, saying with a smile, "Just like us."

But he hadn't remembered what I said after, "If love isn't pure, then it has no reason to exist."

Before being abandoned by my parents, I had experienced pure love, too. But over time, that love became mixed with other complexities. Like sugar tainted with shards of glass, sweet, but bloody.

"I'm just tired. I zoned out for a moment," I replied perfunctorily.

His phone rang and he became busy replying to messages, not noticing anything unusual about me. I whispered softly, "Nick, I'm tired. Let's go back."

Nick looked up and I caught the faint reflection in his glasses, it was a picture of a woman.

He hesitated, as if weighing something in his mind. After a moment, he finally said, "Helen, one of my business partners happens to be here. Could you head back first?"