Three Hundred Miles Too Late

Those looks were like needles, stabbing me until I had nowhere left to hide.

Just then, Vanessa started a video call.

I immediately ran to a quiet stairwell to answer, thinking she was finally going to apologize, finally going to explain.

But on the screen, the first voice I heard belonged to Caleb.

Weak, aggrieved, and pitiful.

"Vanessa, don't delay anything important because of me... Mr. Tully will be angry..."

Vanessa quickly turned the camera toward herself.

She lowered her voice, a trace of irritation in it.

"He has a fever. He's alone. I can't just leave him there."

I looked at the familiar hotel room behind her, my voice shaking.

"And my mother? She's in the emergency room. She has no one either."

Vanessa was quiet for a moment.

Then she said something that chilled me from head to toe.

"You have relatives there. You have doctors. It isn't as bad as you're making it sound.

"Evan, don't use an old woman's health to guilt-trip me."

Guilt-trip.

In her eyes, my mother's life hanging by a thread was nothing but a bargaining chip I was using to pressure her.

That was the first time I realized she did not fail to understand my pain.

She simply did not believe my pain mattered more than Caleb's.

When the emergency procedure ended, the doctor told me my mother had stabilized for the moment.

But she needed further intervention as soon as possible. A family member had to sign immediately and prepare the fee.

I searched through my accounts, and my heart sank inch by inch.

The money we had saved for the final wedding payment had been transferred out by Vanessa the month before.

She had said a company project needed cash flow and promised to return it by the end of the month.

I immediately messaged Vanessa and asked her to transfer the money back first.

She replied quickly.

"The company's accounts are locked up right now. We'll talk tomorrow. Use my supplementary card first. The limit is enough."

But when I took her card to the payment window, the clerk told me, "Sir, I'm sorry. This card's limit was used up last night."

I froze.

"How is that possible?"

The clerk handed me the transaction record.

The charge was from the five-star hot spring hotel where Caleb was staying.

The time was late last night.

I stood at the payment counter, my palms slick with cold sweat.

My father had died years ago. My mother had treated me as her whole world.

And now, I could not even gather the money to save her life.

Just as I was about to lay down every shred of pride and borrow from relatives, my phone vibrated.

It was a friend request from Caleb Pierce.

The note contained only one sentence.

"Mr. Tully, let's talk. I don't want you to misunderstand Vanessa."

I accepted Caleb's friend request.

The first thing he sent was not an explanation, but an apology.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tully. I didn't know your mother was that sick.

"If I had known, I never would have let Vanessa drive me."

Every word was like a soft knife wrapped in cotton.

It sounded gentle, yet it nailed Vanessa's choice before my eyes in blood.

Then he sent a photo.

In it, Vanessa stood at the doorway of a hotel room, lowering her head as she handed medicine to Caleb, who was leaning against the frame.

Her brows were lowered, and her profile looked endlessly patient under the warm light.

So patient it hurt to look at.

Caleb wrote, "She's just too kind. Don't blame her. It's all my fault."

I stared at the photo and suddenly thought of the empty chair beside my mother's hospital bed.

No tears fell.

I only felt a coldness in my stomach, wave after wave, until I nearly threw up.

I took a photo of the payment slip and sent it straight to Vanessa.

"My mother urgently needs treatment money."

She took a long time to reply.

There was a faint impatience in her tone, as if my repeated urgency had annoyed her.

"I've asked my assistant to handle it. Stop imagining everything in the worst possible way."

But when her assistant called, her tone was full of difficulty.

"Mr. Tully, Ms. Tomlinson said... the company accounts really are tight. We can only transfer a portion to you first for emergencies."

I did not even get the bank notification for that "portion" before Caleb posted another update.

This time, he showed off a Cartier LOVE bracelet.

The caption read: "Someone said that when you're scared, you should hold on to something bright."

In the background of the photo, a set of car keys had been tossed casually on the table.

They were the keys to Vanessa's Mercedes.

In the end, I borrowed money from my cousin, Aaron, whom I had not contacted in years.