Chapter 2

On the way to the hospital, the cab driver asked, fishing for gossip, "Miss, heading to the police station in the middle of the night like this. Something happen to your family?"

I leaned against the window, distracted, and didn't answer.

He shifted awkwardly to another subject. "That club downtown, the hottest one, almost had a death tonight. A few thugs got drunk and cornered a female PhD, a returnee, in the restroom. Wanted her to spend the night with them."

"Her boyfriend caught on that something was wrong, charged in, and got into it with them. Those thugs were all bark and no bite. One of them ended up with several broken ribs. Nearly died right there."

A returnee.

A female PhD.

I sat up straight. My mind went, without my permission, to one person.

Cicely Butler.

The scholarship student Xavier sponsored.

And his... beloved.

Two days ago, I was helping one of my mentor's PhD students revise a paper. Halfway through, my computer died, and I had to message Xavier to borrow his.

He replied with a period.

That meant yes.

But when I walked into his study, I hit a problem.

There were two computers on the rosewood desk.

I didn't know which one to use, so I messaged Xavier again.

He took a few minutes to reply.

【Quinn, have you lost even the most basic ability to make a decision?】

I closed the chat and turned one of them on.

Xavier hadn't set a password.

Not because he was open with me, unguarded.

He'd made a rule.

Without his permission, I wasn't to enter his study, let alone touch anything of his.

Once it booted up, I saw a file called "Beloved List."

I thought of the promise he'd made in front of my parents.

He said he'd change. He'd try not to neglect me anymore.

I pressed a hand to my pounding chest and clicked in.

Then the smile froze on my face.

Six full pages. Over a thousand entries. Every one of them said "Cicely."

The name wasn't new to me.

I'd heard it from Xavier's mother many times.

"Cicely's such a credit to herself. I hear she got the full scholarship again this term. It seems Xavier was right to pick her out of all those kids to sponsor."

"My back was hurting the other day, and the moment Cicely found out she went and bought me a massage chair. Such a thoughtful girl. I only wish she were my own."

"I was on the phone with Cicely for over two hours today, international call. Every third word out of that girl's mouth is about her Xavier. Still as clingy as she was as a child."

The list was detailed.

What Cicely liked to eat, what she couldn't stand.

The dates of Cicely's period.

Cicely liked thunderstorms.

Cicely wobbled her head side to side when she ate something good.

...

Even the nail length Cicely preferred was written down, clear as anything.

I read it line by line to the end.

A film of water blurred my eyes.

It was too cruel a joke.

Six years with Xavier, and he didn't even know the date of my birthday, never mind any of my little habits.

I'd told him more than once that I was severely allergic to mango.

Yet every time he brought fruit home, there was mango in it.

I'd argued. I'd made a scene.

He said I was blowing things out of proportion.

He said, "Quinn, I have Asperger's. Managing to function like a normal person is hard enough. You can't force me to put all my attention on you."

Now I had my answer.

Cicely loved mango.

Xavier could remember every single thing she liked.

And couldn't be bothered with a single thing about me.

I sat there in front of the computer until the sky turned light.

I didn't cry.

I didn't go confront Xavier.

Because no matter what I did, he'd only look at me coldly, the way you'd look at a hysterical, out-and-out lunatic, and then say lightly, "Quinn, what exactly are you making a fuss about now?"

This time, I wouldn't make a fuss.

Three more days, and my identity would be erased.

By then I'd disappear from Xavier's life without a sound.

No need to break up.

No need to say goodbye.

Because Xavier didn't care.