After Surviving Death, I No Longer Believe in Love1
At a class reunion, my girlfriend Queena Morris and her childhood friend Fitch Howard played Truth or Dare. They drew a task card of performing a sweet interaction.
They behaved intimately.
Everyone watched my expression carefully and was afraid that I would ruin the party.
I just smiled faintly, "That is sweet. Why don't you kiss each other?"
***
It was my ninety-eighth love trip with Queena.
She left me behind again and made an appointment to go hiking with Fitch, leaving me alone in the hotel.
Five years before, when I graduated from college, I proposed to her, but she said she hadn't enjoyed the single life enough and would only get engaged to me after we had traveled to ninety-nine places.
In five years, we took ninety-eight trips, and Fitch accompanied us on ninety of them.
The eight times he didn't go were because he really couldn't spare the time.
And during the eight times I traveled alone with her, she either complained about the hotel or the route, and we always ended up not being happy.
When I woke up, they were both gone.
At that time, Fitch posted a message on Facebook: [I must conquer the mountain I have always wanted to climb.]
The location was a mountain in the city where we were traveling. It was a famous spot.
He also posted a picture of Queena's profile. In the picture, her expression showed relaxation and satisfaction.
She never showed that in front of me no matter what I tried.
I pretended not to see it and put away my phone. After finishing my meal, I sent a message to Queena: [Are you hiking? I'll come find you.]
She didn't reply.
A heavy rainstorm broke out halfway through the journey and I was trapped in the mountain.
The heavy rain caused a flash flood, and at the critical moment, I called Queena for help.
The call was connected, and Fitch's voice came, "What's up? Let's talk tomorrow. She is exhausted from climbing the mountain today and has already fallen asleep."
After saying that, he hung up the phone.
The cold rain hit me mercilessly, extinguishing my obsession with her bit by bit.
By the time I escaped death and returned home, it was already the third day.
During that period, Queena did not call me or send me messages.
When I arrived at the hotel, it was already evening, a little after ten o'clock, and she was sleeping soundly.