I didn't think I had done anything wrong.
But I still apologized to Fitzroy, because I had indeed hurt his heart back then.
"It's alright."
He said, "At first, I couldn't accept it, but then I understood. Back then, I was poor, had no money, no power, no qualifications to make you suffer with me."
"You broke up with me, and as compensation, you gave me a million to help me start my business."
"In a way, you were my benefactor." He rubbed his cheek against my belly.
"Adele, I've never hated you, and I don't need your apology."
"I just want you by my side."
I looked at the soft, tousled top of his head, his slightly curled hair, and reached out to touch it. It felt like the little dog we used to keep at home.
I couldn't help but sigh.
"If I were still that young lady, I might have accepted your feelings." I withdrew my hand and said helplessly, "But now, it's not possible. Fitzroy, the difference between us is too great."
"You should find someone better, someone who can help you, or even marry for business... not me."
"Now, I really don't deserve you anymore."
I said it plainly, without any dramatic emotion.
There was only a slight sense of nostalgia for how things used to be, but no other feelings. Love might be important.
But in the face of such a huge class divide, it didn't matter that much.
"Fitzroy, let it go."
I said softly, "I've been fine these years without you, and so have you."
"Let me go, and let yourself go too."
People should always look forward.
Not be trapped in the past, forever tangled up with memories.
---
His confession went to this extent, and I still rejected him. Clearly, Fitzroy hadn't expected it.
He seemed a bit stunned, a bit dazed, and even a bit angry.
"You'd rather go on a blind date with a balding man who's seven years older than you than date me?"
"Adele, are you blind?!"
He was so enraged that he lost control, pacing back and forth in the hospital room, wanting to throw something but restraining himself.
"Fine!"
He sneered, "I'll wait to see what kind of life you manage to make for yourself."
With that, he slammed the door and left.
I sat beside the hospital bed, exhausted, pressing my fingers to my temples. He truly looked down on me.
But he still loved me.
This unequal, condescending, and pitying love wasn't something to be happy about.
I slowly got off the bed and left the hospital, walking along the pedestrian path at the edge of the road, watching the endless parade of people.
The crowds were thick, the chatter was loud, but miraculously, my heart was much calmer.
After walking until my feet ached, I stopped and took a taxi home.
---
In the following days, I started looking for a job online again.
I had just sent out a few resumes when I got a call from the hospital—my mother had been rushed to the emergency room. I hurried to the hospital.
The red light outside the operating room flickered, and I stared at the two big words "In Operation." My shoulders trembled involuntarily.
This time, she didn't make it.
When I heard the doctor's "I'm sorry," the tears couldn't be held back any longer. They blurred my vision and clouded my mind.
In the ICU, I looked at her, her body filled with tubes, a breathing machine attached to her. I fell to my knees, crying.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
I whispered, "I'm so useless."
The burial process was simple.
In a suburban cemetery, I was the only one there, having not invited any relatives. After the ceremony, I withdrew all the resumes I had sent out.
With the last bit of money I had initially saved for my mother's treatment, I embarked on a global journey.
In the bitter cold of south, I walked into a small tavern, took off my heavy down jacket, and ordered a strong drink. A young foreign man walked up to me, and with awkward English, asked if I minded sitting with him.
"I don't mind."
I smiled and said.
Originally, things were progressing in a straightforward manner. We would go to a hotel and spend a romantic night together.
But just as his fingers were about to touch my hand, a sudden force sent them flying away. It was Fitzroy.
He wrapped me up in his down jacket and lifted me, storming out. Clearly furious, he shouted at me:
"You've really outdone yourself! No work, no job, just learning how to play around with one-night stands?"
"You didn't even look for me for a one-night stand, are you blind? Am I not better than that pretty boy?" His eyes were red with anger.
He raised his hand, as if to strike me, but then paused, the arm trembling, muscles straining in an effort to hold himself back. I couldn't help but find it a bit amusing.
I closed my eyes and softly called his name: "Fitzroy, my mother is dead."
"I'm the only one left in this world." Being without family is a terrifying thing.
Looking up, I saw nothing but the vast expanse of the land, feeling no connection to it. Even if I jumped into the Arctic Ocean and died, no one would care.
