Giving the Wasteland Back to Yesterday

On my birthday, my boyfriend Francis Henson told me he had a surprise for me.

I thought he was finally going to propose, so I showed up in my best dress, nervous and thrilled.

What I didn't expect was to walk into the restaurant and find the friend I'd cut off years ago sitting in my seat, holding a bouquet.

"Micky, long time no see. Happy birthday."

She winked at me, playful.

"The guy you picked this time is a big step up from the last ones."

I knew exactly why she was here. She'd come to take him from me.

I was about to have it out with her.

But Francis had already taken the flowers from her hands, and on top of that, slid a plate of peeled shrimp across to her.

Then he turned to me.

"Your coworkers took you out for afternoon tea, so you can't be hungry yet."

"Sylvie hasn't eaten. She goes first."

Sylvia Fisher smiled sweetly.

"Aw, thank you, Francis."

I smiled too.

If Sylvia liked collecting other people's garbage, then this time I'd hand it over myself.

01

I sat down across from the two of them.

Sylvia's hand froze on the way to her mouth, shrimp and all.

She bit her lower lip, as if she were nervous.

"Micky, you're not mad, are you?"

"I reached out to Francis ahead of time and said I wanted to see you. I really just wanted to celebrate your birthday."

"It's been a few years since we last saw each other. I've missed you so much."

I looked at her coldly and said nothing.

Francis couldn't hold back after all.

"Michelle Pruitt, Sylvie came all this way to celebrate your birthday, and you're still sitting there with a face like that?"

Every time he said "Sylvie," it came out warm and familiar.

I raised my eyes to him.

"How do you two know each other?"

He frowned slightly.

"Sylvie joined our department last month as an assistant. We added each other for work."

Francis's social media was full of me.

Every woman on his contact list knew he had a girlfriend who was more than a little possessive.

He'd never once complained about it.

But right now the look he gave me was impatient, weighing me, waiting for me to demand an answer.

I said nothing. I just lowered my head and started eating.

At the table, Sylvia and Francis chatted away happily.

You could tell this wasn't the first time they'd gotten together like this.

Now and then the conversation turned to me, and I gave a cool word or two in reply.

When the meal was nearly over,

Sylvia suddenly pulled something out from beside her and set it in front of me.

"Oh, right, this is the gift Francis picked out for you. See if you like it."

It was the necklace I'd mentioned to Francis once last month.

Right now it lay a little askew in its elegant jewelry box, the certificate of authenticity tossed in carelessly and half spilling out.

I picked it up, then slowly pulled a chestnut-brown strand of hair off the chain.

I glanced first at Sylvia and her chestnut waves, then turned to Francis beside me.

"You gave someone else my birthday gift to wear first?"

His expression didn't change at all.

"When Sylvie came with me to pick it out, she just tried it on for you."

I let out a soft laugh and set the gift aside.

Then I stood up.

"I'm full."

Sylvia quickly grabbed my hand.

"Micky, did I cross a line again without thinking? Let me apologize, okay?"

Looking at that earnest face of hers, I was a little surprised.

So three years hadn't left her completely unchanged after all.

At the very least, her acting had gotten a lot better.

She kept pleading.

"Don't go yet, okay? We haven't even had the birthday cake."

I looked down at her hand resting on my arm and coldly drew mine away.

"I can't eat another bite."

Sensing my mood, Francis stood.

He took my bag from my hand with practiced ease, but his tone was cold.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Sylvia trotted after us, the click of her heels sharp against the floor, her voice careful.

"Francis, could I catch a ride with you two? It's so late, and I'm a little scared to take a cab by myself."

Francis looked at me.

"Sylvie scares easily. We really should see her home."

I stopped walking and met his eyes in cold silence.

His patience finally ran out, his voice dropping.

"If you don't want to, then take a cab home yourself."

I took my bag back from him.

"Fine. Go ahead."

Without a moment's hesitation, I put out my hand.

A cab happened to pull up right in front of me, and the next second I got in without a second thought.

Behind me came Francis's voice.

"Michelle, can you not be so difficult for once"

The door shut, and it all cut off at once.

I wiped away the single tear that had just fallen, and yet my heart felt lighter.

What's mine, no one can take from me.

And whatever can be taken, no matter how much I like it, isn't worth keeping.

Sylvia might be feeling pretty pleased with herself.

But my world has never once gone dark over the loss of a man.

The phone in my bag suddenly buzzed.

A message from Francis.

"Michelle, you really went too far tonight."

"Sylvia's felt guilty about you this whole time. She begged me to bring her along, just so she could make things right with you."

"Do you have any idea how much you hurt her, treating her like that today?"

Yes, Francis knew perfectly well what had happened between me and Sylvia.

Before him, I'd been in three relationships.

Every one of them fell apart because Sylvia stepped in.

The first was the guitarist in the school band. He chased me for half a year before I finally said yes, and by the second month he got drunk at a party and kissed Sylvia in front of everyone.

The second worked at the coffee shop off campus. Half a year in, he broke up with me, and the iced Americano that used to appear on my desk every morning started showing up as a latte on Sylvia's.

Every time, Sylvia cried and apologized to me.

She said she never expected it to happen, that she was only trying to test whether they truly cared for me.

I believed her.

I believed I just had bad luck with men, and that she'd happened to help me see the truth.

But the third time, I still found myself hiding the relationship from Sylvia on instinct.

He was the senior colleague who trained me during my internship.

He came from money, handsome and easygoing, and once he'd made up his mind about something, he never looked back.

I really liked him, and I trusted him.

Trusted him enough that I didn't need anyone to test whether his feelings were real.

But a year in, he still knelt down in front of me with red eyes.

He said he'd fallen hopelessly in love with my best friend, and asked me to let him go.

Sylvia stood beside him, sobbing, clutching my hand as she pleaded.

"Micky, what do we do? If your senior and I end up together, can we still be friends?"

I slapped both of them across the face.

Then I grabbed my suitcase and left that city that same night.

I patched up my battered heart with endless work.

Love had gone badly, but my career turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

I let myself sink into the joy of everything going right,

until Francis walked into my world.

Ours was half an office romance. He was at the branch office, I was at headquarters.

Now and then our work overlapped.

Over time, we ended up together.

In all my years, he was the first man who made me want to walk into marriage.

But now, reading his messages come in one after another, all I felt was how absurd it was.

"I know there's a misunderstanding between you and Sylvia."

"But at the end of it all, if she hadn't stepped into those relationships of yours, how would you ever have met me?"

I stared at that message several times over.

Then I opened my banking app and transferred twenty thousand into Francis's account.

Three minutes later, he called.

Behind him, a smooth stream of piano music drifted from his car speakers.

"Michelle, what are you sending me money for?"

"For the gift you bought."

There was a pause on his end.

"That was a present from me. When did I ever say you had to pay for it?"

The words had barely left his mouth when I heard Sylvia's small, timid voice in the background.

"But Francis, didn't this necklace cost thirty thousand when you bought it?"

Her voice was faint, but I caught every word.

My own voice was calm.

"It was thirty thousand. But you wore it, so it counts as used now. There's a depreciation fee."

"Also, I booked that restaurant tonight, and I paid the bill in advance. Your and her split shares are already deducted in that number."

"Oh, right. If it makes you uncomfortable, just transfer the money straight to him. You don't have to give it to me."

When I finished, his end went quiet for a good while.

After a moment, Francis's voice came through, laced with anger.

"Michelle, what exactly are you trying to do?"

Watching the streetscape blur past outside the window, I kept my voice level.

"Nothing. I just think from now on we should keep things clear between us, so it doesn't get ugly for everyone in the end."

With that, I hung up on him without another word.

Back home, I showered first.

Then I sat down at my computer and opened the work I still had one last step to finish.

Half an hour later.

The moment I dropped the file in the team group chat, it exploded.

"Holy crap, you finished already?? And polished up everyone's sections too?!"

"Micky's amazing! No wonder they say Team B is the lucky bunch. Ever since Micky joined the company, even the way the higher-ups look at our department got friendlier!"

"Wait, isn't it your birthday today, Micky? Why are you still working?"

I was in the middle of replying in the group.

Then a private message from my manager popped up.

"Michelle, the data looks great. Your work has always been something I can count on."

"That matter from before, have you given it any more thought?"

She meant the request I'd made last week, asking to transfer to the branch office.

At the time, she'd been stunned to hear it.

The branch office was out in the sticks, and it served a lower-tier market.

Even if the position bumped me up a level, the prospects and ceiling there were nowhere near what headquarters offered.

She'd told me right then to think it over again.

Back then, all I'd been thinking about was getting a little closer to Francis.

Now that it came up again, everything inside me had changed.

"I've thought it through. I'm not going."

"There's also one more thing I need to ask of you."

The sound of a key turning in the lock suddenly came from the door.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. An hour had already passed since I'd gotten home.

I stood and headed for the living room, ready to have a real talk with Francis.

I'd barely taken a step out.

Then Sylvia's soft, coy little cry reached my ears.

"Wow, Francis, your place is gorgeous."

I froze where I stood.

A chill crept up my spine, bit by bit.

The man seemed to be smiling.

When I had the place done up, I did it to Michelle's taste. All the things you girls like.

So he still remembered this home was decorated the way I liked it.

But he also remembered how badly Sylvia had once hurt me.

And now he'd brought her here himself, walked her right through that door.

I drew in a breath, steadied myself, and stepped out.

Sylvia, who'd been looking around, spotted me first. Her expression shifted, and she came toward me at once.

Micky, I'm sorry. You were so angry on the phone earlier, I figured I just had to come, so I

I stepped back, out of her reach.

And looked coldly at Francis, who was holding a big bag.

What did you bring her here for?

He didn't rush to answer. First he pulled a brand-new pair of women's slippers from the bag and set them on the floor, then waved Sylvia over.

Only then did I see the bag was full of toiletries and household things.

He didn't answer my question until Sylvia had put the slippers on.

Sylvie already said it, didn't she? She came to apologize.

She even took tomorrow off for this. She wants to use the chance to clear the air with you properly.

Then he came over, patted my shoulder, a note of reproach in his voice.

And youbest friends for that many years. Some things you really ought to let go of.

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

I just went back into the room and started packing.

He walked in, frowning.

What are you doing?

Something came up at work. I'm going in for overtime.

His frown deepened.

Overtime for what? Isn't your project basically done, just the wrap-up left? Did something go wrong?

For a long time now, he'd grown used to me passing along the various things happening at headquarters, picking up fresh information from it and adjusting his own work direction accordingly.

So without thinking, his voice carried a certain hunger to know.

Sorry. I'm under no obligation to tell you.

He blanked for a couple of seconds, then caught on fast.

Michelle, are you really this petty? She's come all the way here to apologize. You can't seriously throw her out.

My face stayed blank.

It's your apartment. You can have anyone here you want. I've no right to say otherwise.

My name was never on this place to begin with, and I hadn't put a cent toward the renovations.

The design fee I'd done for him back then had just covered this year's rent for living here.

So what do you mean, leaving me alone here with her?

His arm shot out and blocked me, and by now there was real anger in his face.

I looked up at him.

You two seem to get along just fine.

Michelle!

His voice jumped sharply.

Sylvie schemed her way close to me, and wasn't it all for your sake? I'm willing to bring her back, and isn't that for your sake too?

Do you really have to think the worst of everyone?

From outside came the sound of Sylvia knocking.

Micky, Francis, are you two all right in there?

No one answered.

He caught himself losing his composure, took a deep breath, and softened his tone.

She's good at her job, and everyone likes her. She gave me a lot of support on this project.

Once you transfer over, getting to know her again wouldn't hurt you either.

Besides, I've already taken you to meet my parents, and I mean for us to settle down and marry within the yeareven if you don't trust her, don't you trust me?

I met his eyes.

I only trust myself.

With that, I pushed my suitcase past him and headed for the door.

The door opened, and there stood Sylvia a short way off, eyes red, the innocent, wounded look pitched just right on her face.

Micky, do you really not want to see me that much?

My steps paused. I looked straight at her.

Come to think of it, there's something I've always wondered about.

Didn't you marry my ex back then? He always wanted a wife who'd stay home. You ran off to this city to work, and he had no problem with that?

Standing beside me, Francis was clearly taken aback.

Sylvie, you're married?

Sylvia's face went dark, then pale.

The eyes that had been so sweet and lively a moment ago couldn't quite manage a smile now.

But she pulled herself together fast, bit her lower lip, and put on the look of someone about to cry.

We're divorced.

It didn't surprise me in the least.

My gaze just settled lightly on the luggage on the couch.

That was Sylvia's.

Through the half-open zipper, a piece of pink lace lingerie showed.

I smiled.

His gaze followed mine.

Then his breath caught.

I had no intention of admiring whatever colorful thing was happening on his face. I simply turned and started walking out again.

Behind me, Sylvia's voice grew more aggrieved, trying to keep me there.

Micky, don't go, please? I only wanted to talk

I cut her off.

I'm leaving the place to you. You two have a good long talk tonight.

The moment I opened the door, his furious roar rang out behind me.

Michelle, if you dare walk out that door, don't you ever come back.

I didn't turn around. My voice was certain.

Fine.

After I left, the first thing I did was check into a hotel not far from the company.

That same night I borrowed the hotel printer and ran off two documents.

One was the application form for the company dorm.

The other was the registration packet for the global strategy project's elite candidates.

The higher-ups had been building out overseas operations on and off for five years, and lately the talk about formally launching a foreign subsidiary was getting louder.

I only found out after asking my team lead: the higher-ups really did intend to place the best domestic staff over there.

For anyone with ambition, that was about as good as news got.

Even at a thousand-to-one odds, plenty of people would break their backs for it.

The next day, I moved into the company dorm.

By my first day there, I already regretted not applying sooner.

They called it a group dorm, but it was really a single studio with its own bathroom and kitchen, simply and cleanly finished.

Fifteen minutes' walk to work, cheap rent, safe management.

Most of all, going back to living alone was when I realized life could be this simple.

I came home and bolted the door, and I didn't have to leave it open for anyone.

When I cooked now and then, I didn't have to scramble through menus on my phone worrying about someone else's tastes.

And in the corners, nothing kept turning up that didn't belong in the place.

I was more than satisfied with how things were now.

Francis, on the other hand, didn't seem to be doing so well.

From the day I left, he messaged me every single day.

At first it was the same tired excuses.

"I just took Sylvia home that night. When are you coming back?"

Then it turned to playing the victim.

"That imported vitamins you bought are gone, and I've had no energy at all pulling these overtime shifts."

And finally it became blame.

"Michelle, do you have a heart at all? Chandler's Diner came to me for the bill today in front of the whole office, all but saying I'd been skipping out on the tab. You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

I'd almost forgotten, until he brought it up.

Chandler's Diner was a small private-kitchen place near his office.

That year, I couldn't stand how busy and stressed he was, sometimes too swamped to even eat.

So I found the owner and had him send a full home-cooked spread to his office every day.

Over time Francis got used to it, and now and then he'd even message the owner whatever dish he was craving.

What he didn't know was that the bill was paid a week in advance.

Because he was a regular, the owner had probably held out a whole week before saying anything.

Picturing that scene, I couldn't help feeling a little satisfied.

I sent him the owner's payment QR code, then set the phone down and went back to work at my computer.

To stand out faster, I shuttled between the company and the dorm every day, and before long the coworkers saw me as a workaholic.

Another week later, I used a week's worth of hard work to lock down a project everyone else had their eyes on.

So I could do the design proposal justice, the higher-ups handed me the right to choose who I'd work with.

Right before I left that day, out of nowhere, I got a call from Francis.

After the diner business, our relationship had dropped to freezing.

He hadn't reached out, and I hadn't thought about him.

It wasn't until I saw the little heart trailing after the word "Francis" on my screen that it hit me.

I hadn't ended it yet.

So I picked up.

"Still angry?"

The man's voice came through, a little worn out.

"Be angry all you want, but don't carry it into work."

"I already set up the new project chat for you. On my end, counting Sylvia, that's two. The rest of the roster is yours to decide."

Right on cue, my phone buzzed.

A chat window named "XX Project Winning Team" kept popping with new messages.

Member A: Thank you, Francis, for the chance! I won't let you down!

Sylvia Fisher: Will I hold everyone back? First time on a project this important, I'm honestly a little nervous~

Member A: Don't worry, I heard the team lead is a friend of Francis's, so they definitely won't stick us with the hard stuff.

Two lines in, my heart sank all the way.

Right on time, the man's gentle voice came over the phone.

"This chance is rare. I'll give it everything alongside you."

"When the reporting conference comes, I'll go up and present for you."

"If I get transferred to headquarters off this presentation, then you won't have to come out to the branch either."

People really do laugh when they're beyond words.

What made him think I'd skip over an entire headquarters full of talented coworkers to pick him at the branch?

Just because he talked big?

I let out two cold laughs.

"Francis, I turned in the roster a long time ago. Your name isn't on it."

"And I won't be lowering myself to go over there, and I won't be dragging you up here either."

"Because starting today, we're done."