Chapter 2

2.

Realizing what she had just blurted out, Bianca quickly changed the subject.

"Flynn, where are you? Let me come pick you up."

I casually gave her my location, hung up, and sat quietly on the bench.

The gazes of passersby made me deeply uncomfortable.

Ever since my amputation, Bianca had always kept me indoors, claiming I was too much trouble to take out.

Coupled with the shame of my disability, I found it harder and harder to face the strange, pitying stares of strangers.

"Excuse me, are you Flynn?" a timid voice asked.

I looked up and saw an attractive girl I did not recognize.

I instinctively covered my face and shook my head to deny it.

The girl looked disappointed. "Sorry, you just look so much like him."

"Do you need any help?"

By then, I had removed the prosthetic and was sitting in my wheelchair, my left pant leg hanging empty.

I declined politely, "No, thank you. I am waiting for someone."

As she walked away, I overheard her muttering to herself.

"He really looks just like him."

I smiled bitterly, surprised that anyone could still recognize me in this state.

I rolled my wheelchair back into the shadows.

I waited until night fell. Waves of pedestrians walked past, but Bianca never showed up, and no messages came through.

My finger swiped across my phone screen and stopped on Silas's latest post.

"Victory banquet. Our shared glory."

Beneath the caption was a photo of him and Bianca attending an evening gala in formal attire.

He was handsome, and she was gorgeous. Bianca leaned tenderly against Silas's chest, looking utterly intimate.

I almost wondered if my memory was playing tricks on me. Was Bianca really my wife?

During our three years of marriage, she had grown increasingly resistant to my touch.

Eventually, she would push me away even when I tried to hug or kiss her.

Whenever I wanted to post a picture of us, Bianca would snap at me.

"Can you act like a real man and find some real ambition? Stop posting this meaningless junk."

It turned out that posting photos was not meaningless. The person in them was.

The simple warmth I had begged for over the years was something someone else received effortlessly.

I curved my lips into a faint smile, swallowing the bitterness in my throat.

I grabbed dinner on my own and took an Uber home.