Melting Away

1 The fourth year I spent as Isabelle’s stand-in, she came back. Without a moment’s hesitation, Scott kicked me to the curb and got back together with her. At a party with friends, he raised his glass and sincerely wished me the best in finding love. I smiled and returned the toast, offering him the same. Everyone in the room thought I was just putting on a brave face. Scott thought so, too. Until, late one night, his best friend, Alaric, posted an update to his social media. The photo showed a seventeen-year-old Alaric standing next to a seventeen-year-old me. His caption read: “A broken mirror can be whole again.” The likes and comments from our mutual friends, in the minute that followed, exploded. … Maybe I’d seen it coming. So when Scott finally brought up the breakup, I was actually relieved. “Audrey, I’ve done you wrong.” “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just name it.” He was speaking to me, but his gaze drifted past me, landing on the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost nine. We both knew what that meant. Isabelle’s flight was about to land. “We can talk about it later. I just got back from working overtime. I’m tired,” I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion as I bent down to unbuckle my heels. There’s an unwritten rule among adults: three days of no contact is a breakup by default. Scott and I had already accumulated countless three-day silences. My response was meant for his offer of compensation. But Scott misunderstood. He blocked my path to the bathroom, his expression serious. “Let’s clear this up tonight. I don’t want to go see Isabelle with things still up in the air.” The overhead light cast an urgent shadow across his handsome brow. I was suddenly reminded of another night, years ago, under this same light. Scott had held my hand, insisting I make him my boyfriend. I stopped and simply stared at him for several long seconds. “You want to break up? Fine. I agree.” He seemed stunned that I’d agreed so easily. He flinched. The knot in his throat bobbed. “Don’t you have anything you want to say to me? You can scream at me, hit me, whatever you want.” I almost laughed. But my lips felt too heavy to lift. In the end, I just tilted my chin toward the space behind him. “Scott, it’s almost nine.” The unspoken meaning was clear: You should go. A complex emotion flickered across his face, a desire to say more that was quickly smothered by a greater urgency. He grabbed his jacket and was gone. From the moment he spoke to the moment he disappeared, the entire process took less than thirty seconds. That was the weight of Isabelle and me on the scales of his heart. Faced once again with that stark imbalance, I leaned back against the cold wall. A small, hollow laugh escaped my lips.

2 It was Scott who had pursued me first. After we met, he launched a relentless campaign to win me over. I asked him why so many times. Each time, he insisted it was love at first sight. Yes, love at first sight. I slowly grew accustomed to him appearing like clockwork every day. I let my guard down, letting him pull me closer and closer. The only strange thing was how, after we got together, he would often just stare at my face, lost in thought. When I’d ask him what was wrong, he wouldn’t answer. He’d just whisper in my ear how much he loved me. Back then, I truly believed I was loved. Everything changed on an unremarkable weekend. While tidying up, I accidentally knocked over a box in his study. Photos spilled across the floor. As I knelt to pick them up, I saw that they were all intimate pictures of Scott with another woman. On the back of every single one was the same sentence. “Scott and Isabelle, together forever.” The girl’s eyes, the curve of her brows—they were strikingly similar to my own. I stared for a long time before the truth finally dawned on me. I finally understood what he meant by “love at first sight.” I tried to break up with him then. But that winter, Scott followed me all the way to my hometown. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and he just stood outside my building all night, shivering in the wind. When I saw his face, pale and tinged with blue from the cold, my resolve softened. I accepted his clumsy explanations and his stammered promises. But the trust in our relationship was gone. In the years that followed, friends around us got engaged, then married. Occasionally, Scott would bring up our future, his tone half-joking. I would always find a way to deftly change the subject. Eventually, he stopped bringing it up. Instead, he just became more attentive, more thoughtful. Until one night, when I came home from a late business trip and found him fighting to stay awake at the dining table, a bowl of warm seafood soup waiting for me. In that moment, something inside me just…melted. Maybe marriage wouldn’t be so bad, I thought. The hurt was real. But so was the love I had for him. Just as I was about to let myself believe in us again, the news broke. Isabelle was coming back. Suddenly, Scott was always busy. His phone was always on silent. Messages went unanswered for days. He still came home, but it was like he’d left his soul somewhere else. And then, Isabelle’s flight was confirmed. Scott finally stood before me and said the words we both knew were coming.

3 I called my boss and accepted his offer for a two-week project out of town. He’d been hesitant, worried I’d burn out after my recent stretch of overtime. But now, I had changed my mind. Maybe work was the best way to fill the void left by a broken heart. It was late by the time I finished handing off my work to a colleague. I should have turned off my phone and gone to sleep. Instead, on some dark impulse, I opened my social media. The first thing I saw was a photo of Scott and Isabelle, holding hands. It hit me without warning. His caption read: “Glad I wasn’t too late. Hope I’m never late again.” My heart felt like it had been struck by a blunt object. I slammed my phone screen off and stared into the darkness until morning. The intense workload was a blessing. It forced everything else from my mind. In those two weeks, I lost ten pounds and barely had a spare moment to think about Scott. It was only in the quiet, empty moments that a flicker of him would return. On the day I was scheduled to fly back, a friend messaged me, a reminder about a party that night. I knew there was a high probability Scott would be there. And maybe Isabelle, too. But I had no intention of avoiding it. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t going to sever all ties with my friends just because we had broken up. I typed a single word in reply. “Okay.” … The private room was dimly lit, a cacophony of voices and music. As I pushed the door open, several pairs of eyes turned to me. Before I could make out any faces, I heard Scott’s voice. He’d clearly been drinking; his pitch was higher than usual, laced with a desperate edge. “I’ve waited for Isabelle for so many years. Now that she’s back, I’m never letting her go again.” A calm, deep male voice cut him off. “So you can just end your last relationship without a second thought?” “Scott, is that all love is to you? A game?” The question seemed to stump Scott. He was silent for a few seconds before retorting, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Alaric, not everyone is like you, still hung up on a first love who vanished without a trace. I’m not you. I know what I want.” The other man didn’t reply. The air grew tense. Scott must have realized he’d misspoken, because he slung an arm around the man’s shoulders. “My bad, I’ll take a shot as punishment. You just got back, don’t let my drama ruin the mood…” Someone whispered my name. “Audrey’s here.” All conversation stopped. Scott looked up, a flash of panic on his face. And in the corner of the sofa, the man who had been hidden in the shadows slowly lifted his head. His features were sharp, his eyes deep-set. The way he looked at me… it was exactly the same. It was Alaric. It was really him. My breath caught in my throat. The world went silent, and the only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat, a heavy thud against my eardrums. And then another.

4 “Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Alaric.” Scott was the first to recover. He pretended nothing had happened, pulling Alaric in front of me. “He’s been abroad for a few years, just got back.” “I’ve been wanting to introduce you two, but it was always bad timing. Whenever he was back, you were out of town…” Scott was drunk and a little flustered, so he rambled on. But I didn’t hear a word. I just stared at the man in front of me. I never imagined that after all these years, we would meet again like this, by a cruel twist of fate. Remembering the words he’d just spoken, the faint ripple of emotion in my heart quickly subsided. Anyone in the world had the right to judge another’s love life. Anyone but him. I had no intention of dredging up the past. I smoothed all emotion from my face and acted as if he were a stranger. I simply nodded at him. “Hi. I’m Audrey.” … The atmosphere at the party remained tense. Everyone assumed the awkwardness stemmed from my breakup with Scott. I ignored it, finding a quiet corner to sit by myself. Alaric took a seat diagonally across from me. His gaze kept drifting my way, too intense to ignore. My heart began to beat a little faster. I didn’t even notice Scott sit down beside me. “Audrey, I’m sorry for how things ended. If there’s anything you need…” he began, his voice low and sincere. His words just irritated me. I forced a tight smile and shifted away, putting some distance between us. He couldn’t keep his promises when we were together; why bother making them now that we were apart? “You don’t have to. I wish you and Isabelle a lifetime of happiness.” I hated using arguments to demand an answer I already knew. If I couldn’t keep him, it was better to let go with dignity. Strangely, when I said that, the light in Scott’s eyes dimmed for a second. But he quickly recovered, raising his glass. “Well… here’s to you finding your true love, then.” More eyes turned toward us. I maintained the last shred of my dignity and raised the glass in front of me. As my gaze passed over Scott’s shoulder, I saw Alaric. He was watching me quietly. His brow was furrowed, his expression a complex mix I couldn’t decipher. In that instant, all the hurt and confusion I had suppressed came rushing to the surface. Why was I always the one who got hurt? What had I done so wrong? The cold liquor slid down my throat, burning all the way down. I set my glass down and excused myself to the restroom. As I stood up, I could feel their eyes on my back. Alaric’s. Scott’s. Everyone else’s. The door closed behind me, shutting out their muffled whispers.

5 “Did Audrey’s eyes look red when she left?” “She’s definitely just toughing it out. Four years… you don’t get over that so easily.” Scott overheard them and froze. He turned to the person who had spoken, his voice urgent. “Was she really crying?” The person was taken aback. “Well… her eyes were a little red. Maybe I was mistaken.” Scott was about to ask more when the door opened again. I was back, my face a perfect mask. “I still have some work to finish up, so I’m going to head out. You guys have fun,” I said, picking up my bag and smiling at my friends. Scott shot to his feet. “Audrey, I’ll drive you…” Before he could finish, his phone rang. The screen lit up, and his eyes darted away guiltily. Even without seeing the name, I knew who it was. The room was so quiet that the woman’s voice on the phone was perfectly clear. “Scott, my stomach hurts… Can you come home?” It was Isabelle. A sharp, clear pain, like the prick of a fine needle, pierced my heart. Scott clutched his phone, his gaze flicking between it and me, his face a picture of conflict. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I turned and pulled the door open, leaving without another word. … Back in the room, Scott watched the door close, a flicker of regret on his face. He spoke, as if explaining to himself as much as to everyone else. “Isabelle’s cramps are always really bad. I have to go…” Alaric, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly stood up and grabbed his jacket. Scott blinked, instinctively reaching out to stop him. “Where are you going?” “Leaving,” Alaric said, his tone flat. “Wait!” Scott grabbed his arm as if it were a lifeline, his voice pleading. “Alaric, we’re up in the hills. It’s not safe for a girl who’s been drinking to get down by herself. Can you please give her a ride? Please?” He knew Alaric was reserved and didn’t like interacting with people he didn’t know well. He didn’t have much hope. But Alaric stopped. He was silent for a few seconds. When he finally spoke, he agreed. “Fine.”