Chapter 1

I stood in line for forty minutes to buy egg tarts, and after I just stepped away to wash my hands, all four fillings were gone when I came back.

All that was left was a box of crumbly pastry shells.

Charity handed a tissue to Herbert, my best friend, and explained offhandedly.

"Herbert ate the tart fillings. I saved the shells for you."

I looked at the wreckage.

"Charity, I stood in line for forty minutes."

She frowned at me.

"They're just a few egg tarts. Is it really that big a deal?"

My throat suddenly closed up, and I couldn't get a word out.

It felt like this was how it went every single time these past three years.

As long as Herbert was around, the best of everything always went to him first.

When we ate breakfast sandwiches, she'd peel out the meat for Herbert and leave the plain bread for me.

When the bubble tea was buy-one-get-one, the free cup went to Herbert too; if I wanted one, I had to pay for it myself.

Whenever I got upset, Charity would hug me and smooth it over.

"Herbert's your best friend. He's practically half your family."

"If I keep him happy, isn't it so that when the two of us fight someday, he'll put in a good word for me?"

Back then, I actually thought she had a point.

Seeing that I still hadn't said anything, Herbert set down his spoon.

"Spencer, don't be mad. How about I go buy you a few more right now?"

Charity grabbed his arm at once, her tone full of distaste.

"Buy what? He's always like this—everything has to be divided up down to the last detail."

Watching the two of them play off each other like that, I suddenly found it all utterly pointless.

I pushed back my chair, stood up, and walked straight out.

Since I could never be the one who was favored,

then I didn't want this affection that was somebody else's leftovers either.

......

The moment I stepped out of the restaurant, Charity chased after me.

"Spencer Dickerson, that's enough."

"Herbert just said the tart filling was good, so I handed it to him without thinking."

Herbert trailed behind, holding my coat, looking a little at a loss.

"I didn't know you wanted them. If you really mind, I just won't eat them next time."

When I ignored her, Charity's frown deepened.

"He's already said all that. What more do you want?"

My steps faltered.

The egg tarts were the ones I'd bought.

Yet in the end, it was as if I'd forced some terrible wrong on Herbert.

It wasn't that I was unwilling to give in to him.

We'd known each other so many years, and I'd never once kept score with him.

I just couldn't understand it.

I was Charity's boyfriend.

So why was it that every time there were two choices, I was always the one left over?

We'd walked a little way when Charity suddenly called out.

"Hold on."

I stopped too.

She stared at Herbert's feet for a couple of seconds, then frowned.

"Why didn't you say your shoes had rubbed you raw?"

Herbert looked down and only then noticed his heel was already red.

"It's fine, it'll be okay in a bit."

Charity turned and went to the convenience store next door to buy a box of bandages.

When she came back, she crouched right down in front of Herbert.

"I told you before to buy your shoes a size bigger. Now they've rubbed you raw, and it'll hurt for days."

Herbert steadied himself on her shoulder and lifted his foot, letting out a laugh.

"Got it, Nanny Charity."

The two of them were still talking when I left.

It wasn't until I was heading down the stairs to the subway that a sharp pain shot through my heel.

I looked down and realized it had rubbed raw at some point without my noticing.

I dug around in my bag for a long time but couldn't find a bandage.

In the end, all I could do was pull out a tissue and tuck it against the back of my shoe.

After a couple of steps, the tissue slipped out again.

I bent down and stuffed it back in.

Suddenly I felt a little tired.

When I woke up the next day, Charity had sent me several messages.

Don't work overtime tonight. I booked that restaurant you've been wanting to go to.

That was when I remembered—today was our third anniversary.

My phone buzzed again.

Yesterday was my fault.

I'll wait for you downstairs at your office tonight. Let's have a good talk.

My finger hovered over the delete button for a moment.

In the end, I still replied, "Okay."

When work let out, Charity was already waiting downstairs.

Just as I got close, the passenger window rolled down.

Herbert waved at me with a smile.

"Spencer."

I stopped in my tracks.

"He's coming too?"

Charity made a small sound of agreement, her expression easy.

"He was in a bad mood today, so I brought him along."

Seeing that I didn't move, she frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just one more person at dinner."

"Weren't you always the one saying it's more fun with the three of us together?"

For the rest of the meal, Charity and Herbert chatted away happily.

From embarrassing stories back in college to the movie they'd seen together a few days ago.

I sat across from them and couldn't get a single word in.

My phone buzzed—it was a message from my mother.

Spencer, that thing I mentioned last time, about coming back home to build your career—have you thought it over?

I glanced at the two of them across the table, then looked down and replied.

Mom, I'm coming back.