I went to my mother's house to help pack up her belongings.

There weren't many personal items, so I finished quickly.

But her entire study, filled with research materials, was a challenge.

She had fallen ill so suddenly that she hadn't had time to transfer many of her ongoing projects.

I realized I didn't have many of her students' contacts in my WhatsApp.

Sally had always been the one handling those connections.

She was my mother's star student, staying on at New York University after earning her PhD.

My mother had given her many projects and resources, which is why, despite her young age, Sally's projects outshined even those of more senior professors.

...

The academic conference Sally was attending even had my mother's name attached to it.

Given the circumstances, Sally was the best person to handle the transfer of these projects.

After much consideration, I decided to call her.

She didn't answer.

After seven or eight attempts, I gave up.

"The number you're trying to reach is currently on another call. Please try again later…"

I knew that automated voice too well.

The phone calls didn't go through, but unlike before, I wasn't angry anymore.

I was just tired.

I contacted a colleague to help sort through my mother's research materials.

It was only then that I learned from them that the project Sally had traveled abroad for was a collaboration with the neighboring technical university.

The lead on that project was none other than Jason, who had also gone abroad for the conference.

I froze for a moment, then everything made sense.

No wonder it was Jason who had answered my call.

His voice had been full of arrogance when he said, "Sally's busy, she left her phone with me. If you need anything, just tell me."

"Sally's busy," he said. "She left her phone with me. If you need anything, just tell me."

"My mom's in the ICU. Could you please pass the message to her and ask her to come back right away..."

"Got it. She's about to give a speech," he cut me off before I could finish.

...

"Anything else?"

His impatience was palpable.

"No, nothing else. Just a divorce. We'll talk when she's back."

The next time I saw Sally was a week later, at school.

I had just left the dean's office when I ran into her.

The dean had specifically called me in.

He told me that, according to university policy, I could take up a position at the school if I wanted to.

He smiled warmly, encouraging me to think it over, and then walked me to the door.

And there she was, standing at the entrance.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Dean," she said, bypassing me to greet him directly.

...

"Hi, Sally, if I remember correctly, you two are married, right? Why don't you also discuss the job offer with your husband?"

She nodded and followed the dean into his office.

I politely said goodbye to the dean and avoided her gaze.

But just as I was about to leave, she suddenly called out to me, "Wait for me. We'll go home together."

...

I was stunned.

To me, it felt like an eternity since I had last seen her, even though it had only been a week.

But she was exactly the same as before, even her tone hadn't changed.

Her words were meant to be caring, but they felt cold and distant.

"Okay."

...

Plus, I still needed to talk to her about the divorce.

I waited in the office for half an hour.

Growing weary of waiting, I finally told her I'd head home on my own.

I never expected it to start pouring outside.

As I stood at the entrance, debating whether to go back, Sally and the dean walked up to me.

"William, you're waiting for Sally to go home together, right? There's a group dinner tonight. Mind if I join you?" the dean asked.

I shook my head. Since I wasn't planning on going, I didn't mind at all.

Sally saw the dean to his car, then jogged back over to me.

"William, I'm sorry I didn't reply to your messages earlier. I was tied up. The dean will be at the dinner later. It wouldn't look good if you didn't come," she said.

...

I realized she was more concerned about how the dean might perceive her, which was why she insisted I join.

Seeing her so anxious, I didn't want to make things harder for her.

"Alright, I'll go," I agreed once more.

...

I wasn't doing it for any other reason than to end things amicably.

She cared about her job, and I didn't want to cause her any embarrassment.

When we got to the car, I was surprised to see Jason behind the wheel.

Sally turned to explain, "There's a project we're working on, and Jason has been a big help, so he's joining us today."

...

Seeing me waiting by the car, Sally clearly began to feel troubled.

"Jason, maybe William should drive instead?"

"Hey, I'm sorry about this, but I'm used to driving Sally around. How about I get out and let you take over?"

Jason offered, though he made no move to actually switch.

Before the situation could drag on, I quietly slid into the back seat.

I shook my head, gently reminding Sally that if we didn't leave soon, we'd miss the dean's car.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

On a previous occasion, I had insisted on driving, which led to a fight.

When we got home, Sally had scolded me for making a scene over something as trivial as driving, saying it wasn't worth it.

...

Looking back, she was right—it wasn't worth it.

I sat silently in the back, watching the heavy rain outside, my thoughts drifting.

I wondered whether I should take the job at New York University.

The dean mentioned that I could choose between an administrative or teaching position, though he recommended the administrative role, noting that the teaching position had more stringent requirements.

...

I understood the dean's underlying message clearly: getting an administrative position would be easy, but a teaching role would require real talent and knowledge.

...

Asking Sally for advice about the school would have been the obvious choice, but sitting in the backseat with Jason and Sally in front, I didn't even want to open my mouth.

...

Jason, in the driver's seat, was trying hard to keep the conversation going, but for once, Sally wasn't engaging.

Instead, she kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, trying to bring the conversation around to me.

But this time, I didn't feel like responding.

Sally had a certain objective beauty—slim waist, long legs, and a striking yet innocent appearance.

In casual clothes, she could easily pass for a college student.

Today, she was dressed casually, and as soon as she got out of the car, a group of students swarmed around her.

I followed behind them, watching as they chatted animatedly.

Somewhere along the way, trailing behind her had become my habit.

And Jason had become the one standing by her side.

Just like now, they naturally sat together, side by side.

With limited seating, I became the odd one out, standing awkwardly while everyone else found their place.

...

"Mrs. Maxwell, is this your new student? Are we getting a new junior in the group?" one of her students finally noticed and added a chair for me.

...

I sat down, finally part of the group.

"This is your professor's husband. Don't mix him up with someone else," the dean said, and his words brought the table to silence.

...

A girl whispered, "Oh, I thought Mr. Warren was… After all, the hotel only had one room left, and they stayed together."

...

In the sudden quiet, her words were clearly heard by everyone, including me.

Sally, sitting across from me, looked panic-stricken, her face full of worry.

She was probably afraid I'd make a scene right then and there.

If this had been before, I might have caused a scene.

After all, it was an obvious betrayal.

But now, I couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

I kept my head down, focusing on my food, pretending I hadn't heard anything.

Sally tried to explain, "At the time, the conference hotel had one less room booked, so I chatted with Jason for a while."

"After that, I went to stay somewhere else," she added, looking directly at me as she spoke.

...

I smiled indifferently and turned the table to continue eating, as if I wasn't talking about myself.

"I didn't know the place well, so that's why I stayed with Jason," she continued.

Those present, watching Sally continuously explaining, probably felt embarrassed for her.

"William, did you hear me?" she asked.

"I know you're angry, but…"

I cut her off before she could finish.

"I'm not angry. I get it—being in an unfamiliar place and all," I said, even offering an explanation on her behalf.

...

"Don't you want to ask me anything?" she pressed, almost as if she wouldn't be satisfied until I showed some sign of anger.

...

I shook my head.

Why is she pushing this in front of everyone? I thought.

"Let's just eat," the dean interjected, trying to ease the tension.

...

The conversation quickly shifted to topics I didn't understand, so I just sat there quietly, eating.

...

Across from me, Jason kept putting food on Sally's plate, but she didn't seem to have much of an appetite and barely touched anything.

I thought the evening would end there, but then the dean unexpectedly brought up my mother.

"William, it's such a pity about your mom. Don't think I'm out of line, but Sally should have come back, even if she was abroad at the time."

I nodded, acknowledging his words.

Since my mom passed, I'd gradually grown accustomed to the pain, burying it deep within me, layer by layer.

...

"What do you mean, Dean? What happened to my professor?"

Sally, who had been holding her fork mid-air, suddenly stopped.

Her question brought the room to a standstill once again.

"That's strange. You didn't know? Your professor had a sudden stroke and passed away," the dean replied, clearly surprised.