Chapter 6
I stepped out of the van and stared at the dilapidated old house, as the live stream camera panned
towards me, only capturing my back and no audio.
I stood at the door, my mind blank for a few seconds, then pulled out my phone and called my former boss, who was also my long–suffering best friend.
“Caspian told me, ‘Long time no see,” I said, my voice uncertain.
I needed her to give me a reality check.
“So?” My best friend’s tone was exactly what I’d expected. “What else could he say? It’s not like he is
madly in love with you“.
“Let’s be honest, who doesn’t have an ex? There are plenty of other options. Why would he pick a divorced woman like you? Just because of those few months you were relying on each other? Let’s face it, that was a low point in his life. Who would want to remember that?”
She was right.
I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob of the old cabin.
Caspian was on a ladder, fixing the ceiling light, his arm muscles flexing as he worked. Just like years ago, he was so full of strength. He might not need to train as intensely after retirement, but his physique hadn’t changed.
The old industrial lamp flickered, casting a dim yellow glow, illuminating a scene that was all too
familiar.
It was so familiar that I froze at the doorway, unable to bring myself to step inside.
“Food,” he said, breaking the silence. It was simple, without any particular inflection.
My unease seemed unnecessary.
Perhaps, for Caspian, this reality show was just a PR stunt to fulfill a contract and end his marriage.
Outside, snow was falling, and the wind howled.
He was tall, his features sharp. He stood at the kitchen counter, preparing a hearty soup, radiating an unexpected domesticity.
Forgot Your Ex
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Chapter 6
I snapped a picture of his back, posting it on social media to complete my assigned task.
After dinner, he didn’t let me do the dishes but instead, washed his hands and went to make up
bed.
the
There was only one bed in the cabin. He said he’d sleep on the floor.
“Do you need me to change the bandage on your lower back?” I asked.
“I can do it myself,” he replied, his tone neutral.
I stepped out of the bathroom, he had already placed a thin blanket and pillow on the floor.
He was pulling a long bandage from his luggage.
I looked away, grabbing my phone.
At that moment, Jax sent me a voice message, which I accidentally played out loud.
Jax’s voice, laced with a bit of complaining and veiled concern, filled the room: “Are you sure you’re okay with eating soup? When you were at my place last time, you mentioned wanting cheesecake from that place, so I stopped by and got you some.”
That cheesecake was something I’d mentioned casually on my birthday last year. He never bought it
back then.
After all this time, he was only bringing it up now, to maintain his “sensitive” persona and to give a decent excuse to his sponsors.
I was staring at my phone when a shadow suddenly blocked the light.
“Can you help me with this?” Caspian was holding out the bandage.
Hadn’t he just said he could do it himself?
Changing the bandage, winding it around his torso, I had to reach with both hands and barely touched him.
The New York suburban cabin was cold with a draft coming through the seams of the old house. The snow and rain created an icy cold. I was close to him, yet we remained distant. My fingertips brushed against the bandage, and his face was turned away.
Unlike that muggy, sunless apartment in the South where we’d, time and time again, embraced each other as if today was all we had.
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The old industrial lamp came to life again, casting a warm, yellow glow.
We stood under the lamplight.
During the poorest, most hopeless year, we couldn’t even bear to replace a light. We’d just kept using it, repairing the old lamp that would always make unsettling flashes in the middle of the night.
Back then, eighteen–year–old Caspian told me, “Every time it flickers, that’s me thinking of you.”
Now, years later, with nothing lacking, the old lamp flickered again, countless times.
I looked up at him, somewhat confused, “Did you not fix it earlier?”
He paused, meeting my eyes. “Yeah, I did it on purpose.”
I asked, “Why?”
He gave me a complicated look. “If it was fixed, you wouldn’t hear it.”
I was stunned.
He took the bandage from my hand and wrapped it around himself. His movements were quick and precise.
“Daisy,” he said again.
“Yes?”
“Soup or cheesecake?”
A person always has to be honest about their preference when it comes to food.
“Soup.”
