When I stepped off and walked out through the exit gate, the tenant who'd been renting the place I owned in Charleston finally replied.

"Ms. Thomas, we moved out almost six months ago. You and your husband came to take back the keys that day, remember?"

"He said the two of you might use it now and then for short stays, so you wouldn't be re-renting it."

I'd bought that apartment for William's mother in the first place.

Lucy got sick, and the trip from the countryside into the city was too much for her, so I'd simply bought a place close in.

Later, when she took a turn for the worse, she was transferred to New York, to the hospital that's under my father's name.

The apartment sat empty after that.

I handed the keys to William and let him keep the rent as spending money.

Now and then, he'd transfer the rent back to me.

The last transfer was ten days ago.

"My wife was so envious back then. She said your husband really loved you, that he'd even twist the cap off your water bottle for you."

After that message came a video the tenant had sent.

It was meant to be a keepsake clip, but it had caught William and the woman beside him in the frame.

In the video,

William was down on one knee, rubbing the ankle of the woman in front of him.

One of them looking up, the other looking down,

and then they smiled at each other.

This was not the man I knew.

The William I knew would never have been there at all.

He'd be stretched out on the couch, giving me a look.

"You can handle going on your own, can't you?"

That sour ache welled up in my chest again, bubbling, pressed and rolled over and over by a needle, painful but not fatal.

I saved the video and sent it to my best friend.

"Tina Abbott, help me sell the apartment, whatever price you can get."

I had no use for that place, and I wasn't about to keep his lover housed in it.

Tina fired back a string of exclamation points,

said she'd unload it as fast as she could and make sure I didn't lose out.

Then she sent me a few divorce lawyers.

Only at the end did she say:

"Freda. You're finally awake."

I should have caught on long ago.

The tenant had texted me a goodbye message half a year ago.

But waking up now wasn't too late, either.

My fingers moved, and I went back to that post.

Blogger Immy had posted an update.

"We went to the restaurant we always used to go to when we dated. He still remembered my favorite dish."

After reading that update, I lifted my head and walked into the restaurant, straight toward the two of them.

I sat down at a spot by the window.

Through the half screen in front of me, I could see William and the woman across from him.

"Immy, has it been okay where you've been living these past six months?"

William picked up a piece of shrimp scampi and set it in the woman's bowl.

Immy nodded, looking a little shy.

"I'll move out once I find a job. Otherwise it wouldn't look good if your wife found out, it'd hurt things between the two of you."

I couldn't help holding my breath.

"It's fine," William said carelessly. "I don't feel anything for her anymore."

It came down on me like a hammer to the head,

hard enough to leave me dizzy.

"Meeting Freda was an accident to begin with. She's pretty, her family's got money, but she's got high standards and she's hard to please."

At that, Immy laughed, bright and open, showing her teeth.

"So what you're saying is, I'm easy to please?"

Those hands of William's, the ones that always stayed spotless when he ate with me, were slick with shrimp oil now.

He dropped the shrimp meat into Immy's bowl.

"You're not like her. Maybe a first love really is something different."

I was calmer than I'd imagined.

I didn't even shed a single tear.

By rights, I should have rushed over, grabbed William, and slapped him across the face.

Six months ago, on a rainy night, I fell and started bleeding,

and I drove myself to the hospital, alone.

It wasn't until I woke up in the hospital bed that I called him on his business trip.

I cried and told him we'd lost the baby,

William wanted to rush back.

I told him not to. It had already happened, and this trip mattered for his promotion. There was no reason to come home.

He hung up with his eyes rimmed red.

I sat there holding the phone, awake the whole night.

So it turned out he'd spent that whole night with his first love.

And the "high-maintenance" he'd just complained about left me dazed for a moment.

It turned out he'd been talking about me.

Tina's message popped up.

"Three days at the most and the house is gone. The buyer didn't even haggle."

I sent back a single "Good."

I drew in a deep breath, stood up, and dialed William's number as I walked.

Once, twice, three times—each ended without hesitation.

The fourth time, he picked up.

I said,

"Honey, I'm in Charleston. Surprise."

"I'm having dinner right now, at that place you've been going on about for years. The shrimp scampi really is amazing."

Crash!

William shot to his feet,

his head snapping around the room.

"You—you're here? Where are you sitting? Didn't I tell you Charleston's no fun?"

He shoved Imogen away, hard, like he was terrified of being seen.

Her face soured,

teeth catching her lip,

her eyes darting everywhere, hunting for whoever was on the phone in the restaurant.

I laughed softly.

"I was teasing. I'm not there."

William let out a breath, helped Imogen back up with something almost apologetic, smoothed down her dress.

Then he heard me go on.

"But I want to video call. I want to see whether you've been eating properly."

In the gap while the call switched from voice to video,

I heard Imogen rubbing her waist, complaining.

"Are you really that scared of her? So what if you get caught? Is she going to turn into some monster and swallow you whole? Or me?"

William made her crouch in a corner, one hand clamped over her mouth.

"My mom's still being treated at the hospital under her father's name, and she's at the critical stage right now."

So that was all it was.

I'd actually thought he might have remembered something he once said.

During the third phase of Lucy Simmons's treatment,

I went with William to visit her.

Lucy sent everyone else away and said to me,

"Freda, I know William isn't good enough for you. We're the ones reaching above ourselves."

"That boy—he's lazy, and he only puts his heart into a handful of people. If one day you find out that—"

"Mom, I will never wrong Freda."

William walked in and took my hand.

"And I'll never divorce her either."

Memory and the present overlapped, and I heard William say,

"Staying married is only a temporary measure."

The first second his face appeared on the screen,

I hung up.

My stomach heaved and heaved until I was sick.

I braced myself against the wall and threw up until the world spun,

wiped away the tears slipping from the corners of my eyes,

and pulled out the phone buzzing nonstop in my pocket.

"??"

"Why'd you hang up, babe?"

"Here, I'll send you a picture."

"It really was just dinner with a regular friend. He just left."

"Love you, Freda."

I cleared every message with one tap and opened the direct messages on the lifestyle app.

Imogen had sent me one a minute ago.

"Hi, Cloud Freda, are you still taking couples comics? I'd love to commission one about me and my boyfriend's story."

"We'll be using it in our wedding video."

I tapped the screen.

"I'll take it."

I sat in the cab, following William at an even distance, neither too close nor too far.

The driver noticed the mask on my face, the red at the corners of my eyes,

and couldn't help asking,

"That guy up ahead?"

I answered flatly.

"My husband. He's cheating."

The driver was furious on my behalf.

"These scumbags always leave traces when they cheat. Sweetheart, you really have to keep your eyes open…"

In the car ahead, the two of them were kissing,

and it pulled me back a few months,

to the night William got drunk.

I'd meant to silence his notifications, but my thumb hit his contacts instead.

The name pinned to the top had no label, just blank,

yet the thread under it ran on and on,

the last message three years old.

That was when I learned William knew how to keep a conversation going.

He could walk someone through what to eat for dinner, help her pick out earrings.

It seemed that whenever he wanted to, he could slip right into someone's life.

I scrolled up for a while, then my fingertip stopped.

"Imogen, this time it's really over."

"I'm getting married."

That was the night before our wedding.

That same night he'd pinned me against the window and kissed me for ten minutes,

until my lips went numb.

Half a year later,

Imogen asked him.

"Is it that you don't love me anymore, or that you can't love me?"

William replied.

"Can't."

The day he sent that was the happiest day of my life.

For our six-month anniversary,

William, who rarely bothered, cooked a whole spread with his own hands.

All the dishes I'd nagged him about for so long, the ones he'd never wanted to make.

Mom and Dad always said everyone had their little flaws,

and that a man like William was a good one.

That same good man

could finish telling me he loved me and then hold and kiss another woman.

Right now, I was nothing more than a stranger watching someone else's love story.

So I followed behind them like this,

down street after street of Charleston.

William had never once brought me back to the home soil that raised him,

and yet I knew it better than he did,

which brick had left the scar on his forehead,

which river he used to sneak into to catch fish.

Imogen put her hands on her hips and laughed without restraint.

"I still remember. That chubby kid wanted to hit me, and you blocked him for me and took a brick to the head. That scar on your forehead's from then, isn't it?"

"And then you were laid up for a few days, and I talked you into going down to the river to catch fish for me. You didn't catch a single one, and you took a fall too!"

The laughter in William's eyes spilled over.

I was standing less than ten yards from them,

listening to Imogen make William shout 'I love Imogen' at that little river.

What William didn't know

was that Imogen was forwarding me their memories almost in real time.

"Cloud Freda, I really hope you can draw these memories out well. They mean so much to us."

Of course. I'll draw them well.

It was a surprise for William.

That night, by the grass at the lakeside, William confessed to Imogen again.

The passersby, knowing nothing, cheered them on,

and Imogen flushed red, hand over her mouth as if she were about to cry.

"Immy, marry me."

In the crowd, someone had seen Imogen's posts too,

and recognized them at once.

"Who says you can't find love with your ex all over again?!"

"This is everything. Get together, get together!"

More and more people came, until it was a crush.

Suddenly I felt someone yank hard at the strap of my bag,

and I lost my balance and hit the ground.

Someone's heel came down on the back of my hand.

Through the splitting, bone-deep pain, someone shouted.

"Move back, someone's fallen!

A few more feet trampled over me,

and the ring slid right off my fourth finger.

"Immy, this way!"

I didn't look up, and still I knew whose shoe was on my hand.

I'd bought those shoes for him last week.

If he looked down right now, his eyes would meet mine.

Even though I'd played it out a thousand times over, I couldn't help but think,