Chapter 5
The nanny ran off on her own when the earthquake hit.
My brother was trapped under the ruins of his tutoring center, which collapsed in the same
disaster.
And I was swallowed by endless darkness, drifting further into exhaustion as I listened to my parents‘ anxious, weary voices: “Claire, sweetheart, don’t fall asleep…”
“Remember your brother’s third birthday?” my mom murmured. “He begged us to go out and play. I slipped and fell that day. After a week on bed rest, you arrived early…”
“All these years, it’s not that we forgot your brother’s birthday,” my father’s voice added, rough with sorrow. “He just always felt so guilty, like celebrating would only make it worse…”
“Claire, darling… don’t sleep, please don’t sleep…”
I don’t remember what time they pulled me from the rubble.
My parents‘ voices still echoed in my ears, but the only ones they rescued were their bodies.
I refused to believe it. I asked one of the rescue workers, “But I just heard them talking to me.”
He told me, “It was a recording.”
Liars.
They left first.
They’d recorded their voices on a phone, telling me not to fall asleep.
Because I’d told them I hated them, and it broke their hearts; they spent the whole day without eating or drinking.
They said they had to travel for work, but they never left.
And when the earthquake hit, they rushed back to save me.
Hungry, thirsty, exhausted–they didn’t make it through the night.
My life became a mess in an instant.
No one ever mentioned the surprise eighteenth birthday party I’d planned for Jasper Green.
Jasper was rescued from the tutoring center’s wreckage.
My gentle brother, always the kindest to me, looked at me with devastation and fury for the first time in his life.
“Weren’t Mom and Dad supposed to take you on their business trip? Why did you stay home? “Was it because you insisted on going to the amusement park again?!”
His face was twisted, nearly torn apart by grief.
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Chapter 5
And in that moment, I realized some truths are better left unspoken.
It was enough for me to carry the pain and guilt of our parents‘ deaths. Jasper didn’t need to know his part in it.
In the end, his eyes were bloodshot.
For the first time, he screamed at me, “Claire Green, you are absolutely unbearable!”
Even when, later, a mutual friend–ignoring my protests–told Jasper that I’d stayed behind to prepare his birthday party, he didn’t believe it.
He sneered at me. “Claire Green, you just can’t admit you got our parents killed with your selfishness, can you?”
After that, he never spoke another kind word to me.
Once again, I was trapped in a nightmare.
My whole body was cold, but sweat soaked through my clothes.
Then I heard a gentle voice beside me: “Wake up… it’s okay, wake up…”
Someone nudged my arm.
The softness in their voice reminded me of my parents, coaxing me not to sleep.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath.
It took a moment for my vision to clear.
The cab had stopped outside a quiet row of townhouses. Frederick Austin glanced over at me, concern etched on his face.
He reached for a tissue, hesitated, then gently wiped the sweat from my forehead.
“Are you okay? You look pale. Did you get carsick?”
I turned my head toward him, unable to answer right away.
Maybe it was the confusion of waking up, but his face blurred in and out of focus–sometimes his features, sometimes Jasper’s.
Frederick sighed quietly.
He pulled out his wallet, paid the driver, then opened the door and helped me out.
“It’s not far. We can walk from here, alright?”
I still said nothing, just followed him out into the night.
The rain had finally stopped, but the air was thick with the scent of wet earth.
I stood by the unfamiliar curb, shivering as the wind hit me.
For a fleeting moment, I had no idea what year it was, or why I was even here.
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Frederick seemed at a loss for words, too.
He stood beside me for a long while, then glanced at the two umbrellas I was still holding.
“Did you come all this way just to bring me an umbrella?”
I stared at him for a long time before nodding. “Yeah. You didn’t have your car, and you left your phone behind.”
Maybe it was the streetlight, or maybe it was my blurry eyes playing tricks on me, but I thought I saw Frederick’s expression falter. For a split second, it seemed like his eyes reddened.
But honestly, bringing him an umbrella wasn’t the only reason I came.
Some small part of me was terrified he’d died.
Not that I could ever say such things aloud.
We started walking into the neighborhood. I didn’t make it far before my chest tightened and my head throbbed–a familiar wave of panic rising and crashing over me.
My therapist told me it was normal for people with depression to feel this way.
When it happens, she’d said, find somewhere comfortable to rest. Call a friend or family member. Let them keep you company, let them listen.
But I ran out of confidants a long time ago.
Jasper hates me now.
He took over the family business seven years ago. The friends I once had all gradually drifted away–most of them hoping for Jasper’s approval, not mine.
Eventually, I stopped wanting to talk to anyone at all.
I pressed a hand to my aching head and stopped walking.
Frederick had gone a little ahead. He must have noticed I wasn’t following, because he turned back, watching me from a distance.
And in that moment, I understood why he always kept his distance.
Maybe if you stand far enough away, it’s easier to mistake someone for another person.
Just like now, I looked at him in the shadows and thought I saw Jasper.
And maybe, as he looked at me, he imagined I was the sister he’d lost.
A car pulled out of the neighborhood, headlights flashing across my face.
The glare stung my eyes, but Frederick squinted, as if he were the one blinded.
In the darkness, his face looked even paler.
He didn’t come closer, just stood there. His voice was gentle but carried across the distance:
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“You can’t walk anymore, can you? Want me to give you a piggyback?”
The streetlight was cut into patches by tree branches. I watched him through the shifting light and nodded. “Okay.”
Frederick walked over, shrugging off his coat.
He draped it over my shoulders, then took the umbrellas from my hands.
He turned, crouched down, and waited for me to climb onto his back.
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