Chapter 4
Bang! The door slammed shut with a heavy thud.
Damian stormed out in a rage. I didn’t need to guess; I knew he was hiding in some nearby corner, waiting for me to rush out and coax him back.
But not this time.
I pulled my suitcase and walked out of that small house.
On the way, I tripped over a pebble, and the heel of my high shoe instantly snapped off.
I sat numbly on the ground, a memory flashing through my mind: Chloe twisting her ankle once.
Damian, who was walking behind us, immediately supported her, his face full of tenderness. “Chloe, are you okay?”
Chloe, blushing, stood steadily, then pulled my hand and laughed.
“Oh, Audrey, you’re so lucky! You have such a thoughtful shifter!”
Thoughtful?
I had never felt it.
If Chloe had found you that day, you would have been happier, wouldn’t you?
I felt inferior for being a freak, and I envied the love Chloe received.
But Mom and Dad were her parents and mine. If I couldn’t get their love, I accepted it.
But Damian was my shifter. Only mine. I couldn’t accept the fact that he didn’t love me, that he even loved someone else, and still foolishly continue to be good to him.
I couldn’t just get over it in a short time, so I decided to leave this painful place.
Separate ways, to the ends of the earth. I needed to start a new life, to live for myself.
My new job was as a junior clerk at an electronics company. My salary wasn’t high, so I rented a small studio apartment near the office.
Though small, it was cozy in winter and cool in summer—perfect for a cold-blooded creature to hibernate.
I instinctively started to say, “Damian, you won’t have to worry about hibernation now.”
But the words caught in my throat, and I swallowed them, a lump of pain.
I couldn’t help but remember Damian’s retreating back that day.
No matter how much he pretended to care then, he was probably overjoyed now, wagging his tail as he ran off to find Chloe.
I opened the window, and the cool evening breeze brushed against my face.
I let the wind flow into my heart, letting the chill settle over my scars.
I remembered something I’d read in a book: True sorrow isn’t about dramatic highs or lows, but a quiet, steady current, like a flowing river.
I never understood it then.
But now it was clear. Just like for decades, Damian would light a cigarette on the balcony after every family dinner.
A subtle sadness always lingered in his eyes.
I thought he was upset because I’d been called a freak again, that he was furious for me.
But, just like I thought he was reluctant to move out with me, I was just projecting.
He was only sad for himself. Sad that he couldn’t see Chloe. Sad that he couldn’t be with her.