Chapter 7
Back then, he liked to escape to the footbridge, the nverbank, or the rooftop, letting the cold night air whip against his face.
He lit a cigarette, gaze unfocused and distant.||
Whenever he spiraled like this, Veronica would quietly come over slip her arms around him, and soothe his frayed nerves with gen
gentle
words.
In the distance, neon lights flickered. The burning cigarette singed Baillie’s fingers, yanking him back to reality. He waited a little longer, letting the wind and smoke gradually smooth out the restless ache inside him.
Only when he finally felt calm did he return to the car and
I start driving again.
He’d made up his mind; he’d acted on impulse. This time, he’d go home and give Veronica the apology she deserved.
By the time he parked outside the house, night had already fallen..
Baillie glanced at his phone, annoyed with himself for wasting so much time at the hospital.
He looked up at the house. Not a single light was on.
A dull pain thudded in his chest, as if something heavy had struck him.
He punched in the entry code and was about to step inside when the neighbor next door called out.
Baillie frowned slightly. He recognized her she and Veronica were close. When Veronica got bored at home, she’d often invite this neighbor out for a bit of shopping and fresh air
“Baillie, I’m heading out with your wife later–can you help me decide which outfit to wear?” Veronica would say with a gentle arch of her brow, her smile soft and warm,
For a moment, Baillie’s vision blurred. He found himself drifting toward the neighbor’s porch,
The neighbor and her husband exchanged a look, then decided to tell Baillie what had happened that afternoon.
She handed him a set of delicate porcelain cups–something he knew Veronica had cherished for years. Baillie’s face darkened.
“I know how much this tea set means to Veronica. I really can’t accept it, but she insisted this afternoon, and it was hard to refuse… Would you mind taking it back with you?!
As he turned to leave, the neighbor called after him again, hesitating before speaking.
I’ve known Veronica for years. She’s always been gentle, but strong too. You’re her husband–whatever’s going on. out. Honestly, seeing her so upset today… it broke my heart.”
Baillie stood frozen in the backyard, clutching the tea set, unsure whether to go inside or
or just stand there.
He’d already checked–the house was empty. Veronica wasn’t home.
His reflection in the hallway mirror was bleak, his head bowed like a stray dog left out in the rain.
you
two
o need to talk it
Alter he’d lost count of how many times he’d called her, only to get her voicemail again and again, Baillie set the tea set down on the side table his hands trembling as he moved to open the back door.
Strangely although the door wasn’t old, it creaked as he pushed it open, as if it too were saying goodbye.
When he flicked on the lights, Baillie froze, shock constricting his chest K
He’d thought, listening to the neighbors, that maybe Veronica was just putting on a show, involving the others to teach him a lesson.
Now, every drop of blood seemed to rush in reverse, his limbs heavy and numb as he staggered toward the old ginkgo tree in the yard.
It felt as it an invisible hand had gripped his heart, squeezing until he could hardly breathe it
The doorbell rang, and Baillie’s strength left him entirely. He didn’t have it in him to go back and
He pulled out his phone and checked the front door camera Judging by their uniforms, it was a group of stuff–official business. He tapped the mic, his voice rough and low
“What is 10?”
They explained their purpose, but silence hung heavy over the conversation.
Baillie stared at the ginkgo time, his eyes wounded and lost.
His throat tightened, he tried to speak several times but couldn’t get any words out
Finally, he swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat
There’s no need anymore. Sorry you had to come all this way 7:
He dragged out a small square table and two chairs, set them up beneath the ginkgo tree, and sat there all night–wrapped in a coat, cold tea cooling on the table–alone with his thoughts and regrets
