My mother had been hospitalized.

My boyfriend worked as a doctor at the same hospital. You would think he would have visited her often, but he never did. Not once.

On the first day of her stay, he did not come because he had taken a day off. His childhood friend was moving, and she needed his help.

On the second day, that same childhood friend appeared at the hospital as an intern. He followed her everywhere and showed her the ropes. He handled anything she asked for, no matter how small.

It went on like that, day after day.

My mother's ward was on the thirteenth floor. His office was on the seventeenth. All it would have taken was a ten-second elevator ride or a two-minute walk down the stairs. Even so, Sebastian did not visit her for more than twenty days.

My mother recovered. I picked her up by myself and took her to the train station. While I was on the way, he texted me.

Sebastian: [Suzy's pet dog is getting vaccinated today. I need to drive her there first.]

This time, I replied. [Got it. Drive safely. By the way, we're over.]

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and hugged my mother.

"Safe trip," I said.

My eyes filled with tears as I leaned against her sharp collarbones. Her illness had already taken so much from her.

"Once I hand in my resignation letter, I'll take the first train back to you," I said. "We'll stay together until the end of our days, okay?"

She looked stunned. "What about Bastien? Aren't you two supposed to get married?"

Sebastian Ross was my boyfriend and one of the best internists at Annsberg General Hospital. We had been together for five years.

I was not from Annsberg. I had crossed several states in this vast land I called home so I could stay close to him.

Then my mother was diagnosed with Stage II stomach cancer. During all 20 days of her hospitalization, my boyfriend never showed up to see her once.

On the first day…

My mother secretly came to Annsberg and checked into the General Hospital without telling me. When Aunt Rosalind called to inform me, I was out of town for work.

I had no one to rely on except Sebastian. I called him and asked him to watch over her while I rushed back to Annsberg after my meeting.

Silence filled the line.

Then he spoke. "Suzy's moving today. I'm on leave. I can't."

His voice sounded cold, as though it might fracture at any moment. The call ended there.

I did everything I could to leave work early and went straight to the hospital. I learned that my mother had been sitting in the inpatient hall for five hours because she did not understand how to make an appointment.

…

The next day, the diagnosis came back. She had Stage II stomach cancer.

I could not bring myself to tell her. I sat alone on the emergency stairwell and cried until my chest hurt. When I felt completely overwhelmed, I called Sebastian and asked him to stay on the line with me.

He refused without hesitation. "I can't. Today is Suzy's first day as an intern at the hospital."

Then, as though he remembered how serious my situation was, he added a token of comfort. "Look, there's a 50% chance of a cure, okay? Plenty of people with stomach cancer live for at least two to five years. There's nothing to worry about."

I could not believe what I was hearing. My lips parted and trembled, but no words came out.

What did it matter if plenty of people survived or lived for another half decade? She was the only mother I had. If she was gone, she would be gone forever.

…

My mother tried to schedule her surgery on the third day. She managed to secure a date only on the tenth day.

The wait was unbearable. I begged Sebastian to help move things along, but he refused every time. He insisted on keeping his distance. He claimed professional ethics. We were too close, he said. A conflict of interest.

That evening, while I bought food at the cafeteria, I overheard an irritated nurse complaining to her friends.

"I swear that new intern slipped some kind of love potion into Dr. Ross' coffee. She recognized one patient as her elementary school classmate and told him about it. You know what he did?

"He forcibly delayed surgery for an older woman from the thirteenth floor to this Wednesday. That's Dr. Silva's day. His hands can barely hold a scalpel anymore. How is this—"

…

Tears streamed down my face and soaked into my mother's clothes. Her arms stiffened in confusion, then slowly relaxed around me.

She ran a hand through my hair. Her palm was rough with calluses, but it was warm. She put on a brave smile. "Stop crying, Pumpkin. You look awful when you cry."

She gently wiped my tears away. "I'll be fine."

Maybe we would be.

She had always had only me. Only then did I realize that I had always had only her.

Without Sebastian in my life, things would be more than fine.

…

It was 2:00 p.m. when I finally left the train station. Five hours had passed since he promised to come with me to see my mother off. An hour had passed since I broke up with him.

I was about to hail an Uber when he called.

"I just got back from the vet, and this is what I see? 'We're over'?" His voice was sharp with disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you this time?"

This time. He made it sound as though I had a habit of causing trouble.

Maybe he was right. I had been the one who cried and begged him for explanations more times than I cared to count. Those conversations always ended the same way. I would concede to his indifference and quietly patch myself together afterward.

I shook my head and said nothing.

His fury sharpened. "Madelaine Goode, I asked you a question. Answer me. Where are you, and what does this mean?"

"I'm at the train station," I said at last.

Silence followed. It felt as though he had finally remembered the three separate promises he made to meet my mother before she left Annsberg.

"Tell your mother to wait at the station," he said. "I'm coming right now."

I watched my mother's train pull away without expression. My phone rang again.

"Maddie, Suzy's dog is throwing up again. I need to check on them real quick. Tell your mother I'm sorry I couldn't make it this time. Next time, I'll go with you to your hometown and meet her. I'll apologize to her myself."

I hummed in response.

I did not feel disappointed or upset. This was his favorite refrain. "Next time, I will not miss our date. Next time, I will remember our anniversary. Next time, I will find the time to meet your mother."

Sebastian knew I would always grant him that grace. That certainty made it easy for him to offer promises he never intended to keep, no matter how much they hurt me.

There would be no next time. Not anymore. It was time to go home.

…

Leaving proved easier than I expected. One afternoon was enough to cancel my lease, pack my belongings, and submit my resignation.

Sebastian never showed up once that day.

That evening, my coworkers threw a farewell party. Lily, the intern, started crying before she finished her first drink.

"Promise you'll still talk to me after this, Maddie," she said, holding out her hand. "Pinkie swear."

My rival at work handed me a USB drive. "This is some information I gathered on my own related to our field. Don't lose it."

Even my employer, the man we jokingly called Capitalism's Lil' Soldier, pressed a bank card into my hand. He had heard about my mother.

"There's 72,000 dollars on it," he said quietly. "Everyone contributed. Use it for your mother's treatment."

I nodded, raised my glass, and drank a blend of wine and tears.

I thought about the days when Sebastian stayed away. My mother had been on the thirteenth floor, and his office was on the seventeenth. A ten-second elevator ride or a two-minute walk down the stairs would have been enough.

Even so, he never found the time. Not once in twenty days. Not once to see the woman he claimed he wanted to meet during our five years together.

I looked at my coworkers instead. I had only worked there for two years, and we were not especially close. That did not matter. They knew I was leaving to care for my mother, and they responded with generosity.

Sebastian had never even bought my mother a five-dollar towel.

I thought about my train ticket and knew, without doubt, that I had made the right choice.

As the party wound down, I reached for my wallet to pay the bill.

Lily suddenly tugged at my sleeve and whispered, "Maddie, is that Dr. Ross?"

I turned around.

She was right. Sebastian stood there in a sharp gray suit. He cradled Suzanna Locke's puppy in one arm and stroked its fur with the other.

Sebastian had a bag slung over his arm. I recognized it at once as the restaurant's signature dish: a stew of baked cod piperade, mussels, and chorizo. His colleagues stood beside him.

Sebastian hated the smell of fish.

Half a year ago…

My mother brought our hometown's signature snack when she visited me: fish pies. They were baked to a golden crisp and filled with haddock and prawns, with almost no trace of a fishy odor.

Sebastian still threw a tantrum. He did not care that my mother was watching when he dumped every last one into the trash.

"If I see anything related to fish at home again, we're breaking up!" he shouted at me, his voice sharp with threat.

My mother said nothing. By evening, she had bought a train ticket home, claiming she was worried about a possible flash flood.

On the way back, she called me and asked in a small voice, "I'm so sorry I messed up, Pumpkin. I caused trouble for the two of you, didn't I?"

…

I remembered how anxious she had sounded, how heavy her guilt had been. It felt as if someone had stabbed me in the chest.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the warmth was gone. "No. It has to be someone else."

Sebastian suddenly turned and stared straight at me. Then he started walking over. "Why are you here instead of home? Where's Mrs. Goode?"

This was the first time in twenty days that he had shown even a trace of concern for my mother.

I ignored him and nodded to myself. "Yes."

"I didn't mean to stand you up, Maddie. There were too many people at the vet, and I couldn't leave when I wanted to," he said.

I paid the tab. "Okay."

"I'm taking my annual leave. Once Suzy's puppy fully recovers, I'll visit your hometown with you."

I motioned to my colleagues. It was time to go. "I'm fine."

Sebastian paused. His gaze swept over the room, and his tone turned accusatory. "Are you having a gathering with your colleagues? Why didn't you tell me?"

I froze.

Why was he upset? He had spent day after day with Suzanna while my mother lay in the hospital.

Did he ever inform me? He had promised to drive my mother to the station after her discharge.

Did he keep that promise? He used to loathe the "stench" of fish, yet now he ate it without complaint because Suzanna wanted it.

On what grounds did he think he had the right to be angry about me meeting my colleagues?

I slid my card back into my wallet without looking at him. "Who knows? You're always busy. No time to read a text."

I pointed at Suzanna and smirked. "Are you really going to make Suzy wait?"

Sebastian turned, startled, and met Suzanna's pleading eyes. Color crept into his face. "Listen. Her parents are on vacation abroad, okay? Someone has to look after her. That's why I'm bringing her out. Don't misunderstand."

"Mm-hmm. I didn't misunderstand," I said.

I turned to my colleagues. "Ready to go? Let's head out."

They understood at once. They ignored Sebastian and left with me, without a single greeting.

I could still feel his confused stare burning into the back of my neck as I walked away.

…

When I got home, I started cleaning.

Couple-themed outfits went into the trash. Our Christmas couple photo shoots were torn apart. Every message I had exchanged with him over the years disappeared with a tap of my finger.

Sebastian came back just as I finished. He had not returned home once during the twenty days my mother was hospitalized, yet he showed up now, when I was already preparing to leave.

His eyes landed on the shredded photos in the trash. He stopped short and rushed over without even removing his coat. "Why did you tear those up?"

I did not look at him. "They're out of style. I don't like them anymore."

He was about to speak when he noticed my suitcase. His expression eased.

"Well, trends change. We can always take new photos," he said. "The vet said Suzy's dog needs follow-up visits, so I won't have time to go on vacation with you."

He set a bag on the table. "I brought you dinner. Eat it while it's hot."

I stood there, stunned. Had I really heard him correctly?