I had spent five years with Odessa, staunchly refusing to believe she was hiding our relationship just to keep her options open. But now that she was going to great lengths to distance herself from me, I had my answer. It was time for me to walk away.
“Soon,” I said. “Let me sort out my place first. I’ll leave as soon as I sell the house.”
Unexpectedly, Odessa returned to the ward in haste, claiming she needed her car keys.
“Sell? Who’s selling what?” she asked, pausing briefly to listen to a voice message.
The house we shared had been combined into one. Selling it would require separating the units again, but I hadn’t planned on hiding it from her.
However, she didn’t seem to catch my words, too immersed in listening to her voice messages. She grabbed her keys and casually said, “The doctor said you might have memory loss. I thought you really forgot everything.”
Her tone turned accusatory. “You didn’t give me a heads-up before showing up at the fireworks site. You know that gave me the feeling of being ambushed!”
Her bold deflection left me speechless.
So this was why, when I first woke up in the hospital, she feigned aloofness and pretended we weren’t close, even though no one else was around.
Ten minutes earlier, when she told me she was just my “neighbor,” her expression was detached, as if showing polite concern for a stranger. No guilt.
But then again, maybe she did feel guilty about what happened on the mountaintop. Otherwise, she wouldn't have lost control of the drone and caused it to fall on my head. At first, I thought her haste to leave was because she didn’t know how to face me.
What a joke. She didn’t care about me at all.
“Sorry, miss” I said, faking confusion. “My mind’s still a bit foggy from the fall—I didn’t recognize you right away.”
She offered a vague response, keeping up her own charade. But when she turned to look at me, noticing my unusually distant demeanor, confusion flickered across her face. The man who had always clung to her affectionately, even in private, was suddenly acting formal and reserved. She scanned the room, ensuring no one else was around, then leaned into my embrace, attempting to soothe me.
“Leif, let’s not do this here,” she said, leaning closer and dropping her voice. “There are so many people around. Let’s keep pretending. You focus on recovering, okay? Once we’re home, I’ll make it up to you.”