He Was Just Like Her

For three years of marriage, I lived in his shadow. His name was Dylan Green, and in his heart was a woman named Melody Scott—a presence he had carried for many years. Today is our third wedding anniversary. I spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen, simmering his favorite mushroom soup, preparing four dishes he liked, and specially ordered a cream cake topped with fresh strawberries. Wearing a newly bought off-white dress and a light pink lipstick I applied in front of the mirror, I sat at the dining table waiting for him. The candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table laid with food. At half past seven, Dylan Green's car finally pulled up at the villa gate. No sooner had he sat down than his phone rang. The moment he glanced at the screen, the laziness in his face vanished, leaving only urgency. "What's wrong?" I gripped my chopsticks tightly, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Melody's stomach illness flared up; I have to go see her." He snatched the coat draped over the chair back, moving so quickly there was no time for me to speak. "Today is our anniversary." I clenched the tablecloth until my fingertips turned white. His footsteps faltered, but he didn't look back. "Cindy, don't be childish. I'll be back soon." The door slammed shut with a bang. Cold wind slipped through the crack beneath the door, making the candle flame flicker, almost going out. I looked at the untouched dishes on the table, tears suddenly dropping onto the tablecloth, spreading into a small wet stain. For three years, whenever Melody Scott had something to attend to, he was always the first to rush over. As his lawful wife, I felt like an unnecessary presence. I stood and walked to the dining table, taking off my wedding ring. After wearing it for three years, a faint white mark remained on my finger. I placed the ring beside the untouched cake and took out my phone to open the ticketing app. In the south, there is a small place called S City. I had saved photos for a long time, always wanting to go. While packing, I realized that in these three years of marriage, my belongings were pitifully few. A 24-inch suitcase, still half empty after packing my clothes and everyday skincare products. The lilies in the living room vase had withered, their yellow petals strewn across the floor. I changed the water, then swept the withered petals into the trash. At last, I took one final look at the villa where I had lived for three years, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out without looking back. I hailed a taxi straight to the airport. By the time I arrived, it was already past ten. I bought the fastest ticket to S City and sat in the departure lounge waiting to board. My phone vibrated; it was a message from Dylan Green, just three words: "Wait for me to come back." I smiled at the screen, then deleted all my social accounts one by one, finally blocking his number. Goodbye, Dylan Green. Goodbye to the me who loved you for a full ten years. As the plane took off, the city lights below turned into flickering stars. Leaning against the window, I felt for the first time how close the sky was. I closed my eyes and had a dream. In the dream, there was no Dylan Green, no Melody Scott. Only me, quietly brewing tea and reading in a small shop in S City, filled with the scent of flowers.