The Landslide

My name is Nola Yates, and I'm twenty-five years old. Three years ago, I met Caleb Jones at a music creation workshop. Back then, he was radiant and confident, with a natural stage presence that made him impossible to ignore. We talked for hours, about music, life, and our dreams for the future. He said he wanted to be a singer remembered by everyone, and I told him I wanted to write songs that could touch people's hearts. That conversation felt like planting a seed in my heart, slowly taking root and sprouting. Eventually, we naturally fell into a relationship. Those three years were filled with sweetness, but also with arguments. More often, though, I was alone in an empty room, waiting for him to come home from work. He was always busy—recording songs, attending interviews, and taking part in all kinds of events. And I was like a supporting character in his life, quietly standing at the edge of the stage, waiting for him to glance back at me once in a while. This time, he was going to join an outdoor adventure program set deep in a mountain in the southwest. He said the program would last seven days and hoped I could go with him. When I heard that, I almost immediately agreed without hesitation. In the three years we'd been together, he rarely had time for things like this with me. I thought this would be a new beginning for us. On the day we left, it was still dark before dawn when we boarded the Program Team's bus. The mountain roads wound ahead, and the view outside the window slowly shifted from city skyscrapers to endless green hills. The air carried the damp scent of earth, fresh and uplifting. I leaned back in my seat, watching the scenery outside, my heart swelling with anticipation. The mountain wind was far colder than I had expected. September skies should carry the warmth of early autumn, but here the wind bit like deep autumn. I wrapped my jacket tighter and quickened my pace to stay with the group, trying not to fall behind. The mountain path was rugged, and the loose stones underfoot rolled quietly, stirring a nervous unease within me. "Don't be afraid, I'm here." Caleb Jones looked back and smiled at me. That smile was still beautiful, with a familiar tenderness in his eyes. But for some reason, I always felt that tenderness was like a thin veil of mist, obscuring his true feelings. I didn't think much of it, just assumed he was nervous because of the show. After all, this show was very important to him; I'd heard it could really boost his exposure. It made sense that he cared. I quickened my pace, wanting to get closer to him. But after just two steps, the ground beneath my feet suddenly began to shake. At first, it was just a slight tremor; I thought I was simply off balance. But the next moment, the shaking grew more violent. The trees around me began to sway, and stones tumbled down the steep slope with a clatter, accompanied by the dull rumble of shifting earth. "Landslide!" Someone screamed sharply, their voice full of terror. Chaos broke out instantly. People scattered in all directions. I was shoved by the panicked crowd, lost my footing, and fell hard to the ground. Before I could even get up, heavy earth and broken stones surged over me like a tide, instantly burying my legs. The icy cold soil crept down my collar and seeped into my clothes; the pressure grew stronger, making it harder to breathe. "Caleb Jones! Save me!" I called his name desperately, my throat filled with the taste of dirt—dry and burning. Screams, cries, and the sound of collapsing rocks blended all around me, but I couldn't hear Caleb's response. In the darkness, his voice finally came through—so close, yet somehow distant, blurred, carrying a panic I'd never heard before. "Reagan! Where are you? Reagan!" That was his voice calling out to Reagan. Each word stabbed at my heart like a needle. Reagan Shaw—I always knew she existed. She was Caleb Jones's first love, the one he always spoke of. For three years, I tried my best to be the girlfriend, believing that as long as I loved him enough, was sensible enough, one day I could replace her in his heart. But now I realize, some places were never meant for me. "Caleb, I'm here! I can barely breathe!" I screamed with all my strength, hoping he could hear me, hoping he'd come to save me. The soil kept falling, the pressure on my chest growing heavier, and my vision slowly darkened. His footsteps seemed to have stopped not far away. A spark of hope ignited in my heart, and with my last bit of strength, I shouted, "Caleb Jones, my leg won't move, pull me up first!" Silence. A long silence. A few seconds that felt like a whole century. Then, his voice came again from another direction, the urgency and worry in his tone so clear: "Reagan, hold on a little longer, I'm coming to get you out!" The footsteps gradually faded away, growing more distant and blurred, until they completely vanished into the chaotic noise. I froze where I stood, my entire body chilled. The soil kept falling, my chest tightening unbearably, even breathing felt like a luxury. It turned out that in his heart, I was never a priority. Even when I was in danger, even when I screamed hoarsely, his eyes were fixed only on someone named Reagan Shaw. Just before losing consciousness, I thought I heard someone digging soil—rhythmically, again and again. But I no longer had the strength to tell if the person was coming to save me. The darkness before my eyes thickened, until I completely lost consciousness.