The next morning, I made myself some plain congee for breakfast and headed to work.

While waiting for the bus at the entrance of my apartment complex, Vivian drove by and rolled down her window. “I saw there’s food in the fridge. Why didn’t you make me a lunchbox?”

I used to prepare her lunch every day at the office, making each meal with care and her favorite ingredients.

She loved spicy food, so even though it made my stomach hurt, I always added chili to everything.

She’s allergic to seafood, and even though I grew up by the sea and love seafood, I haven’t had it in seven years just to avoid upsetting her.

Despite all my efforts to please her, she only seemed to grow more indifferent and open about her relationship with Howard.

I smiled faintly. “Making lunchboxes is too much trouble. I’d have to get up at five in the morning, and it really cuts into my sleep. I’m not doing it anymore. You said the cafeteria food at your company is better than mine. Anyway, so just eat there.”

Vivian stared at me, clearly taken aback, then said quickly, “You have to believe me, there’s nothing between Howard and me. He had a depressive episode yesterday… I really couldn’t get away… His family was there too, so don’t overthink it.”

I looked at her with a smile in my eyes.

If his family was there, why were you still hanging around?

Not wanting to get into an argument, I said calmly, “I get it. Howard’s your old friend, and he’s dealing with depression. It makes sense you’d help him out.”

She fell silent for a moment before saying with a hint of sadness, “You’re still upset with me.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Anyway, the bus is here, and I have to go to work. See you.”

I gave her a polite wave and walked away, treating her like any casual acquaintance.

All day, I buried myself in work like never before. I’d never been so focused.

While I was nervously waiting for results in my small Boston hotel room, I prepared for the worst.

If it turned out to be stomach cancer, my salary and health insurance could at least cover the first couple of years of treatment.

It hit me then how much time and energy I’d wasted on Vivian, and how little I’d put into my job, which was actually what could save my life.

I regretted it. From now on, I promised myself I’d work harder and earn more.

During my lunch break, I saw a message from Vivian saying she’d pick me up after work.

I replied with a simple. [Okay.]

After work, I saw her car parked downstairs.

It was a car we had bought together, but she had claimed it was inconvenient for a girl like her to take the bus, so she kept it while I’d never driven it.

This was also the first time she’d come to pick me up.

Six months ago, during a heavy rainstorm, I begged her to pick me up from work because I couldn’t get a cab.

She refused and didn’t even care when I came home drenched.

I got into the passenger seat and noticed a cigarette pack there.

I picked it up and, under Vivian’s watchful eye, casually tossed it into the glove compartment.

I didn’t smoke, but Howard did. He could stay up all night smoking because of his depression.

Vivian quickly explained, “I once drove him to the hospital, and he must have left it behind. His parents were with us too.”

I shrugged. “Oh, okay.”

My tone was flat, like she was just another colleague or acquaintance.

Vivian kept staring at me, which made me uneasy.

She used to hardly look at me, and now that she did, it was irritating.

The ride was quiet.

I picked up my phone out of boredom and scrolled through it.

I saw a bunch of seafood recipes and suddenly craved seafood. I thought about buying some soon and cooking it at home.

A plate of seafood, a glass of wine, and watching TV sounded like a perfect evening.

While I was lost in my food fantasies, the sharp ringtone of Vivian’s phone cut through the air.

I glanced over and saw Howard’s name flashing on her screen.

She quickly hung up.

I kept scrolling through my phone, pretending I hadn’t noticed.

The phone rang again.

Vivian hesitated, her hand hovering over the screen.

“Why don’t you answer it?” I said casually. “It might be something important.”

Vivian hesitated, then answered the call.

“Vivian, my depression is really bad again,” Howard’s voice came through, trembling with fear. “I’m on the balcony, looking down at the crowd below. I really want to jump. I’m so scared, Vivian. Please, you have to come and save me.”

Vivian glanced at me, conflicted. “Aren’t your parents there with you? You should call them.”

Howard’s voice grew more frantic. “No, only you can help me. Please, Vivian, come now! I can’t do this without you!”

Vivian looked at me, visibly uncomfortable.

How many times has Howard’s call pulled her away from me?

Whether we were on a date, at the grocery store, or just relaxing at home, if Howard called, Vivian would drop everything and leave.

I used to get furious about it. I’d argue and she’d respond with that condescending attitude, as if I didn’t understand the deep bond she had with Howard. Then she’d accuse me of being petty and heartless.

But this time, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I pointed to a nearby corner. “Just let me out here. It’s close to home. I’ll walk.”

Vivian looked surprised and said apologetically, “I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine. He’s a patient. You should go.”

I stepped out of the car, feeling oddly calm. I thought about how I still had time to get seafood. I wanted four fat crabs and a lobster…

Vivian didn’t drive off as expected. Instead, she rolled down the window and called after me, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Why aren’t you upset? Aren’t you going to stop me from going to see him?”

I smiled slightly. “Why would I be upset? You’re just helping someone in need.”

With that, I turned and walked away.

I had seafood to buy, and her problems were the least of my concerns.