It was that promise that made me fall for him in the first place.

We were both Chinese-American, but our hearts had always belonged to the East.

I thought we shared the same dream.

Turns out, he'd given up on it a long time ago.

The only place he wanted to be was wherever Vivian Blake was.

That night, he came home late.

I was already in bed when he stepped onto the balcony to make a call.

"Vivian, don't cry."

"Mm, the paperwork's all been submitted..."

"Don't worry, I'll be there..."

He soothed her for a long time, his voice carrying a tenderness I had never once heard directed at me.

In the middle of the night, he rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep.

"Vivian... I miss you..."

I smiled bitterly in the dark.

I used to be a heavy sleeper.

Apparently, I'd missed quite a few confessions.

The next morning, Robert left early.

"Don't forget to go submit the paperwork."

His eyes flickered with something like panic, but he didn't linger for even a second.

On the desk sat a stack of immigration documents.

His were already gone. Only mine remained.

I gathered the papers, filled in the gaps, and went to the embassy.

The consular officer was an elderly Chinese-American woman in reading glasses. She looked to be in her sixties.

She reviewed my documents, then looked up at me over the rims of her glasses.

"You're going back?"

"Yes."

"You're a scientist?"

"Yes."

She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes reddened.

"I've sat at this window for thirty years. I've watched countless people walk out of here, heading to Canada, to Europe."

Her voice trembled.

"But someone like you, going from America back to China? That's rare."

She stamped my papers without hesitation.

"Welcome home."

My nose stung.

When I was little, my grandfather used to tell me something.

"No matter how far you go, never forget the road home."

He'd been gone for over a decade now.

His grave was back in China, in a small county town in the south.

I hadn't visited him in ten years.

This year, I was going back.

With my dream, with my research, I was going home to see him.

That evening, Robert came through the door carrying a bag.

"Virginia, I brought you something."

It was a small figurine of Cambridge, the university crest engraved into the base.

"See? You've always had a connection to Valkenheim. You even got accepted into the Cambridge exchange program back then. Too bad you never went."

My fingers slowly curled into a fist.

Five years ago, I'd earned a spot in Cambridge's exchange program. Two full years.

It was the opportunity I'd dreamed of my entire academic life.

Cambridge's aerospace engineering program ranked in the top three worldwide.

My advisor had told me himself.

"This kind of opportunity doesn't come around twice. Once you're there, your entire academic perspective will change."

I was ecstatic. I started packing immediately.

Then, one month before my departure, Robert was diagnosed with acute appendicitis.

The surgery was minor. Three days in the hospital, a month of recovery, and he'd be fine.

But he grabbed my hand.

"Don't go. Stay with me."

I hesitated.

"But this opportunity is so rare..."

"There'll be other opportunities."

He cut me off, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.

"I'm sick. Shouldn't you be here taking care of me?"

In the end, I stayed.

And that once-in-a-lifetime spot went to Vivian Blake.

Looking back now, there was nothing coincidental about it.

Vivian wanted that spot, so he engineered it for her.

Vivian wanted him in Valkenheim, so he abandoned everything he once believed in.

And now, he was using a figurine to remind me.

You can finally go to Cambridge.

He didn't know that the figurine wasn't a gift to me. It was a knife.

I didn't respond. I just kept packing in silence.

The trash can was already overflowing.

Our wedding portrait. A sample of our wedding invitation. The plane tickets from our honeymoon.

"You're throwing all of this away?"

He sounded confused.

I'd treated every one of those things like treasure once.

I kept my voice flat, my hands never stopping.

"There's too much stuff. Something has to go. You can't keep everything."

His brow creased slightly, as if he'd caught something beneath my words.

But he didn't move. He didn't fish anything out of the trash, either.

I pointed to a box in the corner. It was full of his and Vivian's things.

Old photographs of the two of them. A scarf she'd given him. Letters she'd written him.

"What about those? Tossing them too?"

He panicked instantly, rushing over and clutching the box to his chest.

"These can't be thrown away!"

Realizing how that looked, he let out an awkward laugh.

"These are Vivian's things. I'll bring them to her when I return them."

After he said it, he watched my face with open expectation.

As if waiting for me to ask where.

I didn't ask. I just said, "Oh."

A long silence passed. He shifted, uneasy, and tested the waters.

"Virginia, have you been following up on the immigration process?"

"I have."

"So… you've submitted all your paperwork?"

"Submitted."

He exhaled, visibly relieved, and smiled.

"Good."

I gave no reaction.

I just tossed more things into the trash.

We started dealing with the house in the States.

Robert began posting foreign apartments on social media.

Friends left comments.

"Already picked a place? We'll come visit once you're settled!"

I didn't like any of the posts. I didn't comment.

We'd lived in this house for ten years. Every corner held a memory.

A map of home hung on the living room wall. We'd put it up the day we moved in.

Back then, he'd held me close and said,

"When we go back, we'll visit all these places."

He'd marked dozens of spots with red pushpins.

"These are the aerospace cities. Someday we'll see every single one."

The map was still there. The red pushpins were still there.

The man who'd said those words no longer remembered them.

"Virginia, what do you think of this one? Right on the Thames. You can see the London Eye from the balcony."

He watched me, gauging my reaction.

I gave a soft "Mm."

"The ones back home are probably just as nice."

He froze. A flicker of confusion crossed his face.

"Virginia, you don't like Valkenheim?"

"I do."

His expression relaxed.

"A few days there for a vacation would be lovely."

He went still again.

He was about to say something when his phone rang.

A video call from Vivian.

"Robert, my foot hurts so bad, I can't move…"

She was crying in that delicate, helpless way of hers, tears glistening like rain on white petals.

"What happened?"

Robert shot to his feet, his voice tight with alarm.

"I missed a step going downstairs and fell down the whole staircase…"

"I'm all alone. I'm so scared. There's no one to take me to the hospital…"

Vivian's tears fell harder.

"Don't move. Whatever you do, don't move. I'm booking a flight right now."

Robert was frantic. He turned to look at me.

"Virginia, Vivian hurt her foot. I need to go check on her."

His eyes were anxious, but there was something tentative beneath it. A nervous edge.

He was gambling.

Gambling on whether I'd make a scene.

But I was calm. I just gave a slight nod.

"Fine."

He didn't seem to expect me to agree so easily. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

"So... the rest of the immigration paperwork, you'll handle it?"

I nodded.

"Sure."

Something shifted in his expression, a trace of guilt passing through.

"Virginia, you've always been so understanding."

He walked over and took my hand.

"Actually, this works out. I'll go ahead and get everything set up, so it won't be so rushed when you arrive."

He seemed pleased with himself for finding a reasonable excuse.

"I'll wait for your update. I'll pick you up at the airport."

I pulled my hand free. Still calm.

"Go take care of it."

I turned around and went back to packing.

His hand hung frozen in midair. It took him a moment to process.

Right then, another message from Vivian popped up on his phone.

"Robert, did you book the ticket yet? I think my foot is swelling..."

Without a second thought, he threw some clothes into a bag and rushed straight to the airport.

The next day, Vivian updated her social media.

In the photo, Robert was wearing an apron, head bent over a cutting board, chopping vegetables.

The caption read: "Home-cooked meal tonight! It feels so nice having someone cook for you."

Something slammed into my chest. Hard.

So he could cook after all.

Ten years in America, and I had been the one cooking every single meal.

I remembered that winter. I'd come down with a high fever, a hundred and two degrees.

Two full days without eating a single thing.

"Robert, I really want some soup... Could you make me a bowl?"

He was watching a game. His brow creased when he heard me.

"I don't know how."

Eventually, he shrugged on his jacket with visible reluctance.

"I'll grab you something from the restaurant downstairs."

I waited forty minutes.

What came back was a cold bottle of milk and a burger, brought home by a man who'd already eaten his fill.

I'd wanted to cry so badly that night.

But later, I talked myself out of it.

Everyone has strengths and weaknesses.

I shouldn't expect too much from him.

Now I knew. It was never that he couldn't cook.

He just never wanted to cook for me.

The house sold. The car sold. Bank accounts closed.

Ten years of life compressed into a few boxes, a few documents, a few wire transfers, all within a single month.

I sorted through his things one by one and shipped every last item to him.

Three days later, Robert called.

"Virginia, the luggage arrived. When's your flight?"

He hadn't even noticed. Only his belongings had arrived. Nothing of mine.

I kept my voice flat.

"Three days."

His tone brightened with excitement.

"I'll pick you up at the airport. Just send me your departure time."

"Vivian's thrilled you're coming. She's been begging for your braised ribs. Honestly, I've been craving them too."

I said nothing.

I hadn't even arrived yet, and they'd already assigned me a job.

"Virginia? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"Great, it's settled then. I'll pick you up, and we'll hit the grocery store together."

I didn't respond.

But he hung up anyway.

As if my agreement was a given.

Three days later, I stood in the departure hall of Boston International Airport.

Robert sent a voice message.

"Virginia, Vivian's in the hospital. Acute gastritis. I need to stay with her."