The Wild Bird's Return

That was the evaluation my fianc, Hayes, left for me in a hidden spreadsheet: [Family Background: Orphan. No messy social ties. Personality: Docile and controllable. Zero ambition. Notes: The perfect background character. Capable of producing excellent heirs for the family.

Right next to it, under his first love's name, he wrote:

[You are a wild bird. You are meant to soar free and proud.]

He once said he would never marry her. Because being his wife meant hosting endless family banquets, catering to picky, elitist elders, and playing the role of a silent, perfect wallflower. He couldn't bear to break her spirit.

What he didn't know was that I had a form of my own. A transfer application to the frontlines of Africa as a war correspondent.

The man I truly loved was still out there.

I was going to bring him home.

Chapter 1

"You're going back to being a war correspondent?!" The station director's shocked gasp echoed through the office that morning.

I slid the transfer application across his desk. "Yes. I want to be stationed back in the DRC."

"Sutton" The director stared at me, speechless for a long moment. "You're practically built for the frontlines. We all saw it three years ago.

But you're about to get married! You're literally on pre-wedding leave! Does your fianc even agree to you going back to a war zone?"

I stayed silent for a second.

"The wedding is off."

"What?!"

Under his wide-eyed stare, I didn't blink. "Yeah. I'm not marrying him."

Yesterday, Hayes went out to pick up our wedding favors and asked me to email him the vendor list from his laptop. I opened a spreadsheet titled [Wedding Plan]. Instead, I found his dating history. Six women.

Each profile detailed their height, appearance, and background. Mine was on the very first page.

[Name: Sutton.]

[Family Background: Orphan. No messy social ties.]

[Personality: Docile and controllable. Zero ambition.]

[Notes: The perfect background character. Capable of producing excellent heirs for the family.]

At the bottom, he had highlighted three words.

[Suitable for marriage.]

I sucked in a sharp breath, battery acid pooling in my gut.

My fingers stiffened over the mouse for a few seconds before I gritted my teeth and kept scrolling.

The other women had similar evaluations.

[Too extravagant. Pass.]

[Lazy lifestyle habits. Pass.]

[Has a younger brother. Pass.]

But the last tab. Except for her name and a photo of her skydiving over the Grand Canyon, it was empty. The only text was a single line in the notes:

[You are a wild bird. You are meant to soar free and proud.]

Her name was Kenzie.

I remembered when we were finalizing the guest list, Hayes hesitated over that exact name. He added it, deleted it, then added it again. When I asked him why, he claimed she was traveling the world and probably wouldn't fly back just for this.

Turns out she was his first love.

Hayes's iMessage was still logged in on his Mac. I searched for Kenzie. Their chat history was wiped clean.

But her latest Instagram story update read:

[Dammit! The man I love is getting married. I'm going to slash the tires on his getaway car and hijack the wedding!]

Hayes had replied in the comments:

[Don't bother. I wouldn't marry you anyway.]

[Ugh, fine! I guess you actually found true love this time!]

[What are you talking about?]

[Please! With your family's suffocating, old-school rules, marrying you means becoming a free maid for your entire household. Pass! My journey is the unknown wilderness and freedom!]

[Yeah, I know. That's why I'm marrying the woman they want me to marry. And I couldn't bear to make you do any of that.]

Couldn't bear to? Hearing that from Hayes was a first.

Hayes and I met through a blind date setup. He was young, successfulthe youngest attending surgeon at a top-tier hospitaland undeniably handsome. But thanks to his painfully traditional, difficult parents, he had never managed to tie the knot. They were absolute control freaks.

They demanded a daughter-in-law who was submissive, constantly useful, and willing to wait on them hand and foot.

My first time at Hayes's family estate, his mother intentionally knocked over a full cup of scalding black tea and ordered me to kneel on the rug and scrub it clean. But I swallowed my pride and did it. Because the first time I laid eyes on Hayes I told myself I'd do almost anything for a man with a face like that.

We dated for two years. His parents were thrilled with me. And he got used to coming home to an immaculately clean penthouse, a hot dinner always waiting on the stove, and his expensive suits perfectly steamed.

But his attitude toward me? Always lukewarm.

Chapter 2

It wasn't until his birthday this year, when I tried to bake him a cake from scratch. The oven exploded while preheating.

When he rushed into the ER and saw my arms covered in glass shards, he lost his composure for the first time.

He cupped my face in a panic, his voice shaking. "You don't have to do this for me You really don't"

But even then, he never once said he "couldn't bear it."

Later, he proposed. I genuinely thought he was doing it out of some sliver of real affection, that he wanted to build a life with me. But I was wrong. He was just checking a box for his parents.

Kenzie was the woman he cherished so deeply he'd rather let her go than see her suffer.

The second I read their messages, I knew this relationship was over.

He was putting on a show for his family, and I was putting on a show for myself. But no matter how good the acting is, it's still just a play.

When I got home from the station, I dug into the very back of my closet and pulled out a few dusty camera bags. My deeply buried past. The texture of the camera bodies felt foreign under my fingertips. The batteries were dead.

While waiting for the external charger to do its job, I plugged the SD cards into my laptop and opened the long-forgotten files.

The first photo was of a Black woman waiting on a dirt road for cholera pills.

The second was a five-year-old child soldier, barely taller than his rifle.

The third was a refugee camp in North Kivu, a sea of tattered tents.

The smell of gunpowder and dust seemed to punch right through the screen. My chest tightened like a vice. I leaned back hard against my chair, waiting for my spiking heart rate to level out, and let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

I wondered what Hayes would do if he saw these. Would he still label me as [Docile and controllable]?

My phone buzzed twice. A text from Hayes. He sent a location pin for a restaurant.

Right. He had invited the groomsmen and bridesmaids out for a pre-wedding dinner tonight. I didn't have much family or many friends, so the entire wedding party was basically just his social circle. But I knew this dinner was just an excuse.

Because today, Kenzie flew back.

By the time I walked into the private dining room, they had already ordered. Kenzie was sitting in the seat right next to Hayes. There was no open chair left for me.

She looked me up and down, a smirk playing on her lips, before casually waving a hand. "Just grab a chair from the corner and sit wherever."

I dragged a chair to the furthest possible end of the table. Through it all, Hayes just sat there, watching indifferently. He didn't say a single word.

Someone across the table spoke up. "Kenzie, we honestly thought you weren't going to make it back!"

"Are you kidding? This is Hayes's wedding! I would have crawled back if I had to, just to see exactly what kind of piece of work he ended up with!"

A few of the guys exchanged knowing looks. "True. You two always had a special connection."

From there, the conversation shifted entirely to Kenzie's travels. By the time the appetizers arrived, she had already regaled them with stories about deep-sea fishing for yellowfin tuna in the Mediterranean, hiking the Camino de Santiago in Portugal, and climbing Uluru in Australia.

The table looked at her like she was a goddess.

"Kenzie, you're a girl! How are you brave enough to go to all those places?!"

"Please. I'm not the kind of woman whose entire existence revolves around groceries, a husband, and kids." She tossed her hair. "Fortune favors the bold, and I'm out here experiencing the world!"

As the alcohol flowed, she became the undisputed center of attention. Hayes sat beside her, barely speaking. But every time he turned his head to look at her, the look in his eyes softened so much it was practically melting.

I quietly downed the rest of my tequila. It burned bitterly at the back of my throat. Suddenly, this whole charade felt incredibly hollow.

Chapter 3

Kenzie was already recounting her latest escapade dodging scammers in Egypt. She suddenly turned her head and asked Hayes, "Do you want to know how to say 'darling' in Arabic?"

Hayes paused, then shook his head.

"I'll teach you!" Kenzie leaned heavily against his shoulder and blew a puff of air directly into his ear. "Habibi~"

Hayes let out a helpless breath, gently pushing her upright. The tips of his ears flushed a deep pink. "Sit up straight"

"Come on, say it with me!" Unable to resist her teasing, he sighed, yielding to her demand. "Habibi"

"Bingo!" She beamed. "Exactly. You are my Habibi~"

Her eyes darted over, suddenly locking onto me. "Have you ever been to Africa?"

Someone immediately scoffed. "Does she look like it? Africa? She's probably barely left the state!"

Even Hayes offered a mocking smirk, shaking his head.

Kenzie narrowed her eyes, a triumphant sneer plastered across her face. "True. My mistake. I asked the wrong person!"

"Ask her? You should be asking her which neighborhood discount grocery store has the cheapest cereal, or which brand of floor cleaner works best!"

The table erupted in roaring laughter. She turned her head away, immediately launching into her next topic.

My fingernails bit sharply into my palms. I figured the tequila was getting to me. Why else would my blood boil over such a cheap, pathetic provocation?

"I have," I said quietly.

The chatter around the table dimmed slightly. Kenzie tilted her head. "What?"

"I've been to Africa."

A flash of shock crossed her face before morphing rapidly back into disdain. "Oh, please. There's no need to be so desperate for attention. If you haven't been, you haven't been!"

She rolled her eyes. "Lying is a bad look. It's way too easy to get exposed."

"I'm not lying."

"Then tell us, where did you go?" She raised her chin, absolutely certain I'd choke.

"Kenya? Morocco? Or maybe South Africa?"

I stared dead at her. "The Democratic Republic of the Congo."

The room went dead silent.

"Where? The DRC? Where even is that?"

"She's definitely wasted. Imagine making up something like that, haha!"

"What kind of normal person would go there? It's just a dirt-poor war zone"

The fire in my chest flared hotter. I wasn't the only one out there! Doctors Without Borders, UN peacekeepers, international construction crews Were none of them normal either?

"Not only have I been there, but I stayed for an entire year." I locked eyes with her. "I drank unfiltered water thick with mud, and listened to gunshots at three in the morning.

I've watched militias slaughter each other over mineral mines. I've walked through Ebola treatment centers and handed out emergency grain sacks with UN workers I've even taken a bullet."

Absolute, suffocating silence. Every jaw at the table dropped.

"And one more thing." I leaned forward slightly. "There are no yellowfin tuna in the Mediterranean. They prefer tropical waters.

The Camino de Santiago isn't in Portugal, it stretches from France to Spain. And climbing Uluru has been strictly banned since 2019."

I narrowed my eyes. "Kenzie, lying is a bad look. It's way too easy to get exposed."

The blood instantly drained from her face. Confused, bewildered stares ping-ponged back and forth across the table between us.

Kenzie shot up from her chair, her voice shrill with panicked defensive rage. "She's an orphan with nothing! How the hell could she have gone to those places?!"

She pointed a shaking finger at me. "She's the one lying!"

I propped my chin on my hand and offered a sharp smile. "Then why don't you show everyone your photos? You've been to so many exotic places, you must have snapped a few pictures, right?"

"I I"

"Don't tell me you don't have any?"

Panic wildly overtook her features. She whipped around to Hayes. "Hayes! What the hell is wrong with your wife?!"

Chapter 4

"Isn't this supposed to be my welcome home dinner?! How could you let her bully me like this?! Whatever. Since I'm clearly not welcome here, I'll just leave!"

She wiped her eyes dramatically and actually bolted out the door.

The room instantly plunged into chaos. The others urgently shoved Hayes. "Go after her! It's late, what if she gets lost?!"

Hayes's face darkened. He shot me a vicious glare before storming out.

The rest of them quickly abandoned the table. "Sutton, we're heading out too."

Someone lowered their voice, making sure I could hear. "How does she have the nerve to target Kenzie like that? Doesn't she know she's the one stealing someone else's spot?"

"Just pure jealousy. Kenzie is gorgeous and worldly. What does she have?"

"She tried to embarrass Kenzie, but in the end, it's her own husband running out to coax her. So stupid!"

Their mocking voices faded down the hall. In an instant, I was the only one left in the massive private dining room.

I let out a soundless scoff. I poured myself another shot of tequila and tossed it back.

Actually, Kenzie wasn't entirely wrong. I hadn't been to any of those places. But the only reason I knew she was lying was because of my mother.

I wasn't born an orphan. She was an international news correspondent who eventually stationed herself in active war zones. Back then, a woman working overseas while her husband stayed home to raise the kid was practically an unforgivable sin. The neighbors used to constantly sneer at me.

"Your mom abandoned you!"

I would ball up my tiny fists and swing at them, fiercely defending my dignity as a kid, but it only earned me more ruthless mockery.

Growing up, seeing her in person was incredibly rare. But she constantly mailed thick letters stamped with postmarks from all over the world. She wrote down every detail of her life there, always stuffing photos into the envelopes. The happiest moments of my childhood were sitting on my dad's lap, listening to him read those letters out loud.

I would close my eyes and sketch out the image of that brilliant, fearless female reporter in my mind.

She used to write:

[Sutton, most women's worlds are so small, but the real world is vast. When you grow up, you have to see it for yourself. Only by experiencing the world will you truly know what you want.]

She was my eyes. At an age where I hadn't even read a handful of books, I caught breathtaking glimpses of the world entirely through her.

But when I was five, she died in the line of duty. She was killed after exposing a military massacre of civilians during the Kosovo War.

The press agency only managed to recover her camera. Inside, alongside the priceless photojournalism she died protecting, was a picture of me. I never even knew when she took it.

Back then, I didn't really grasp what being killed meant. But those same gossiping neighbors who loved to hover around our porch took twisted pleasure in the tragedy.

"See that? Women who love to run around in the wild never end up well!"

After that, I was a girl without a mother. But I clung to her advice like a lifeline. Go see it for yourself. Record the world with your own hands. Then you'll know what you want.

This afternoon, when I dug out those old cameras, that battered vintage Leica, stained with dried mud and ancient blood that one was hers.

The tequila burned like battery acid in my gut. I gripped the edge of the table so hard my nails practically dug into the wood. I buried my face in my hands.

"Mom, I miss you so much"

The next morning.

A splitting headache jolted me awake. I peeled my heavy eyelids open, staring blankly for a long moment before realizing the ceiling above me was my own. I had no idea how I got home last night.

I dragged myself out of bed to pour a glass of warm water.

Hayes was sitting in the living room, his face dark like storm clouds. "Is this how you play the hostess?"

I didn't have the energy to deal with him. I turned and headed straight for the study.

But my desk was completely empty.

Chapter 5

My voice came out as a raw croak. "Where is my camera?"

"I gave it to Kenzie."

I whipped around. He crossed his arms, offering a dry scoff. "Didn't you tell her to take more pictures?"

My brain struggled to process the words tumbling out of Hayes's mouth. He he gave my mother's camera to Kenzie?

The glass in my hand shattered against the floor. I lunged, twisting my fists into his collar. "How dare you touch my camera?! How dare you!!"

Hayes recoiled in genuine shock. "Where is Kenzie?!"

"Sutton! Let go!"

"Where is she?!" I yanked at his shirt, practically tearing the fabric. The tequila from last night burned the back of my throat, spilling hot and fast from my eyes.

Hayes froze, stunned by the tears. "At the Cloudmont Hotel."

"Room number!!"

"1103"

I shoved him backward and bolted out the door. I slammed the gas pedal the entire way to the hotel, sprinting straight up to the eleventh floor. I kicked the door hard enough to rattle the frame.

"Get out here!!"

A moment later, Kenzie yanked the door open, her face twisted in a scowl. "What the hell is wrong with you this early in the morning?!"

I barged right past her. Sure enough, the vintage Leica was sitting on the TV console. I snatched it up and pivoted toward the door, but Kenzie grabbed my arm. "Hayes gave that to me! You have no right to take it back!"

I grabbed her by the collar and backhanded her. A sharp, resounding slap echoed through the room.

"It belongs to me! What gave you the right to take it?!"

She stood there, stunned. A second later, she let out a piercing shriek. "You hit me?!" She lunged at me, clawing and sobbing wildly. "You crazy bitch! You already stole my man! Now you want to steal the gifts he gives me?!"

During the scuffle, her fingers snagged the frayed leather strap. It snapped. She snatched the heavy metal body and hurled it onto the hardwood floor.

CRASH.

My mind flatlined.

The camera my mother's camera lay scattered in pieces across the floor.

A twisted, vicious triumph flashed in Kenzie's eyes. "If I can't have him, you don't get this!!"

A piercing ringing erupted in my ears. Blood rushed straight to my head, and every muscle in my body clamped tight, stretched to its absolute breaking point. I grabbed a fistful of Kenzie's hair and slammed her head into the drywall with every ounce of strength I had left. Blood instantly trickled down her forehead.

"Help!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "She's trying to kill me!"

The hotel door was suddenly ripped open. Hayes rushed in.

Seeing the blood on Kenzie's face, his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. He seized my shoulders and shoved me hard against the wall. "Sutton! Are you out of your mind?!"

Behind him, Kenzie touched her bleeding forehead with trembling fingers. Her legs gave out, and she slumped against the doorway. "Hayes, I'm so scared."

I shoved his chest away and dropped to my knees on the hardwood. My hands shook as I frantically tried to piece the shattered metal and glass back together. Jagged edges sliced into my fingertips. I didn't care. But no matter how hard I tried, the pieces wouldn't fit.

Hayes grabbed my bleeding hands, forcing them still. "Calm down! It's shattered! You can't put it back together!"

A shudder ripped through my spine as silent tears flooded my face. He ground his teeth together. "It's just a busted camera! I'll buy you a new one! Did you really need to go completely psychotic over it?!"

My teeth sank into my bottom lip until the skin broke. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. A busted camera. It was the only thing I had left of my mother, and he called it a busted camera.

I looked up at him. The sheer hatred boiling inside me was suffocating. I swung my hand and slapped Hayes straight across the jaw. The blood from my fingertips smeared bright red against his pale cheek.

"Get out, Hayes! Get out!!"

Under his horrified stare, I ripped the diamond engagement ring off my finger. I hurled it straight into the trash can.

I packed up every single thing I owned, emptied the apartment, and drove back to my hometown. I went to see my mom. I sat in front of her headstone for an entire day. During that time, Hayes's name lit up my phone screen with countless missed calls.

Chapter 6

I didn't answer. I blocked his number.

A suffocating wave of shame washed over me from time to time. If my mother could see what I had become over the last few years, would she be disappointed?

I had failed her expectations. I hadn't grown into the proud, brave, and resilient woman she wanted me to be. Instead, I had rotted away for three years beside a man who wasn't worth a dime.

On the third day, I visited the cemetery as usual. But as I approached the headstone, my footsteps faltered. Sitting right beside the cold granite was something completely unexpected.

A bouquet of dew-covered blue wild irises.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Those were my mother's favorite flowers. Who had been here?

I spun around and sprinted to the cemetery office. The staff told me that someone had been delivering them every few months. They handed me a physical address.

A name hovered at the edge of my mind, but I didn't dare believe it. Following the address, I pulled up to a small, unassuming flower shop.

The shop owner confirmed it. About three years ago, she received a recurring order. The customer requested a fresh bouquet of blue wild irises to be placed at Camille's grave every three months. Because the man had paid for three full years upfront, the order stuck in her memory.

My heart lodged in my throat, choking off my air. "Do you know who this person is?"

The owner swiped across her tablet a few times. "The order only has a last name. Mr. Ji."

"But the credit card he left on file expired a long time ago. We had a supply shortage a while back, so we sent him dozens of emails, but he never replied."

"Do you know him?" The owner looked up from her screen, her expression suddenly morphing into panic. "Ma'am? Are you okay?"

I pressed my palms hard against my burning, stinging eyes and waved a hand. "I'm fine. I'm fine."

The owner was incredibly understanding. She slid a pack of tissues across the counter, brewed me a hot cup of chamomile tea, and turned away to quietly trim the stems of some roses.

I sat in the quiet shop for a long time until my breathing finally leveled out. I picked out a small bundle of daisies and headed for the door. Just as I reached for my wallet, the owner called out.

"You don't need to pay for those."

My hand hovered in the air.

She wore a distant, reminiscent look. "Ma'am, I just remembered. Mr. Ji also mentioned that someday, someone might come asking about this order. He said if she came alone, I should give her a bouquet on the house. And tell her: 'Keep walking forward. The starlight will light the way.'"

That afternoon, I completely broke down in front of my mother's grave. My knees hit the dirt, and I sobbed until my chest physically ached.

I never expected him to stay by my side in this way. I never expected that, even now, I would still have to rely on him for comfort. What kind of mental preparation did he have to force himself through to leave those words with a stranger?

I was the only one who understood what "if she came alone" really meant. It meant he was no longer by my side.

A colleague called me later that evening.

"Sutton, your flight is booked for next week. Who are you putting down as your life insurance beneficiary this time? Your husband?"

I shook my head, staring blankly at the wall. "Please put down Doctors Without Borders."

"Doctors Without Borders?"

"Yeah."

"Why them?"

I took a shaky breath, inhaling the chill of the room. Because he was a doctor without borders.

I stumbled unsteadily out of the cemetery gates.

Standing right by the entrance was a silhouette I never expected to see. Hayes.

His jaw was covered in dark stubble. He looked entirely worn out. When he saw me, he didn't say a word. He just extended a box toward me.

Inside lay a vintage camera. The exact same make and model as my mother's.

"The original one it was beyond repair."

We stared at each other in dead silence. I had no idea how he tracked me down. I had no idea where he managed to dig up a discontinued camera from 1994. But it didn't matter.

The thing I cherished was already shattered.

Chapter 7

What was the point of finding an exact replica?

Seeing that I wouldn't take the box, he rubbed his temples, looking utterly exhausted. "Just come back with me. The wedding is next week. Those expensive, custom-made invitations have already been sent out to half the socialites in the city. If you keep throwing this tantrum, my family is going to become the laughingstock of high society."

A dry, mocking scoff scratched at the back of my throat.

"So, in your eyes, I'm just throwing a tantrum