Quiet Goodbyes, A Love Without Tomorrow

“Vincent, it hurts so much,” Zoe whimpered, her voice soft and frail.

He hesitated, torn between wanting to help her and the fact that I was standing right there. His expression twisted into an uncomfortable mix of guilt and indecision.

I spoke first, breaking the tension. “If it hurts that badly, you should take her to a hospital. You wouldn’t want it to turn into something serious.”

My words surprised him—he wasn’t expecting me to be so calm, so understanding.

Vincent’s eyes softened as he reached for my hand. “I’ll take her to the nearby clinic and return for you. Wait for me at the entrance, okay?”

“Sure,” I replied lightly.

He looked at me for a moment as though searching for anger or reproach in my face. But I stayed composed, not giving anything away. Finally, he released my hand, scooped Zoe up in his arms and walked off.

I didn’t wait. I wasn’t going to play the fool this time.

***

As I was leaving, my phone buzzed with a call from a junior colleague at the lab.

“Miss Claire, we’ve got an abnormality in one of the experiments and no one can figure out what’s causing it. Could you come take a look?”

Without hesitation, I headed straight there.

Time flew as we worked through the problem and the sun was already rising when the wrong link was also found and repaired.

The younger researchers showered me with compliments. “Miss Claire, you’re a genius!”

Finally, they were reluctant to let me go again, “Miss Claire, are you really leaving for that classified research project?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“But what about your wedding?” one of them asked hesitantly.

“Are you really okay with leaving?”

I paused for a moment, then smiled. “The country’s work is more important.”

What I didn’t say was that, for Vincent, my presence or absence didn’t seem to matter anymore.

This world keeps spinning, with or without me.

***

Dragging my exhausted body home, I opened the door and she was again.

Zoe Williams.

She was wearing one of Vincent’s shirts, her bare legs peeking out as she walked out of the master bedroom.

When she saw me, she didn’t even flinch. “Don’t misunderstand, Claire,” she said casually. “After the clinic visit, it was really late. I didn’t want to go home since my parents were out of town. Vincent was just being considerate—he didn’t want me to be alone while I’m injured.”

Before I could respond, Vincent stepped out of the bathroom, his hair damp from a shower. When he saw me, probably thinking I would get upset again, his brows furrowed, bracing for another argument.

“Claire,” he sighed, “I don’t want to mess with you early in the morning.”

“She’s coming to work with me today and didn’t have anything to wear, so I lent her one of my shirts—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, cutting him off.

Both of them froze, caught off guard by my calm tone.

Vincent looked at me incredulously as if he felt my reaction was too calm.

He explained, “Last night, she slept in the guest room,” he said quickly, as though trying to preempt any accusations. “Don’t overthink things—”

I interrupted again, my voice steady. “I’m not overthinking. You two grew up together. You’ve always seen her as a sister. You even said the guest room is basically hers, open to her anytime and that she doesn’t need my permission to come over. I remember.”

Vincent faltered, the fight draining from his posture. When he spoke again, his tone was softer.

“I’m glad that you can think this way. I really want you and Zoe to get along.”

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. It was the courier I had scheduled.

Vincent finally noticed the piles of boxes I’d packed and stacked neatly in the living room.

His expression darkened as he walked over to inspect them.

“Claire, what do you mean?” he demanded, his voice tight. “You don’t want all the things I gave you?”

I was just about to open my mouth to reply when he reached into one of the boxes and pulled out a small music box. Inside was a spinning figurine of a bride in a white wedding dress.

His hand trembled slightly as he held it up and I noticed his eyes reddening.

“You’re throwing this away too?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

That music box was from years ago, back when we had nothing. He couldn’t afford a grand gesture or a ring, but he’d given me that little box, promising, “One day, I will make you my bride.”

I had believed him. But reality gave me a slap in the face.

Love doesn’t work when there are three people in the relationship. It was too crowded.

And I didn’t want to stay anymore.