The East Wind Blows, No Turning Back

Ethan Vaughn's official social media announcement sent shockwaves through the design world.

"President Vaughn's new girlfriend seems to be a volunteer from that foundation. She looks pretty innocent."

"I saw them watching the sunrise together in Southbay. Tsk, tsk. Doesn't seem like a new relationship to me."

"I heard Mrs. Vaughn is still taking care of his dad... Tsk..."

I was standing in the elevator, looking down and sorting through some files, when I overheard my colleagues saying these things.

Around noon, just after I'd gotten back from the pharmacy, I received a call from Mr. Vaughn's hospital room. It was the caregiver.

"Miss Sterling, Mr. Vaughn has a fever. Could you come back?"

I froze.

Ethan Vaughn had recently hired a new caregiver for Mr. Vaughn. He'd said it was to relieve me of my duties, but it was really to get me to move out of the house as soon as possible.

But the new caregiver was completely negligent, too busy reposting sappy quotes about Ethan Vaughn and his new girlfriend on social media.

I rushed to the hospital. Mr. Vaughn was propped up in bed, his face pale, with an ice pack on his forehead.

When he saw me, his eyes immediately reddened. "Celia, it's my fault. I've been a burden to you..."

"Don't say that."

I steadied him, my movements still gentle.

"I consider you family."

I stayed with him all night until his fever finally broke.

The next morning, Ethan Vaughn arrived.

And she was with him.

The girl wasn't tall. She wore a white dress and a volunteer badge. Her eyes were gentle, her eyelids were red and puffy, and she had a pitiful, helpless look about her.

"President Vaughn, I didn't mean to intrude. I was just worried about Mr. Vaughn's health..."

"It's fine. I'm happy to have you here."

He said this gently, then his eyes flickered to me. "Why are you still here?"

I turned my head and said offhandedly, "Your dad had a fever."

"Couldn't the caregiver handle it?"

I smiled. "The caregiver doesn't know him as well as I do."

"Celia..."

Mr. Vaughn cut in. "She was taking care of me all last night. Even your mother was never this attentive."

Ethan Vaughn frowned and fell silent.

The girl beside him said softly, "Actually, I can take care of Mr. Vaughn, too. After all, our foundation provides nursing training."

"Really?"

Ethan Vaughn looked at her and nodded with a smile. "Then I'll have to trouble you to come see my dad more often from now on."

I watched their exchange. With their gentle expressions, they looked like something straight out of a romantic drama.

No one mentioned who I was.

No one mentioned how I'd managed to get through the last three years.

I stood up, brushed the wrinkles from my clothes, and gave the girl a polite smile.

"I'll leave him in your hands, then."

That night, I took out the third memento.

It was "Celia's Cookbook," something he'd made for our third wedding anniversary. He'd said he wanted to eat every dish I ever made.

He'd even drawn a picture in it of me tying up my hair whenever I cooked.

'Now, he's probably eating the same dishes with another woman.'

I opened the window and struck a lighter.

The flame devoured the last page of the cookbook—my favorite page.

[Tomato Beef Brisket, Celia's favorite.]

I watched it slowly burn to ash, a bitter taste rising in my mouth.

Late that night, I got a message from Ethan Vaughn:

[How's Dad?]

I glanced at it.

After a moment, I replied:

[He's fine. Isn't your new girlfriend taking good care of him?]

After sending the message, I blocked him.

Three mementos left.