Chapter 6: Standing Up

Thump thump. Thump thump… It was the noisy thumping of my heart. Jason heard it. He heard the words, "Every time you get drunk, you call his name."

Knowing him, he’d definitely seize the chance to dig deeper. And, like before, tease me: "Rachel, you really do like me, don’t you? Hahaha."

But right now, his face was only filled with surprise and panic.

"Hiding in the office?" Michael’s voice snapped me back to reality. He glanced at the office, his smile fading, and strode over.

But when he opened the door, it was empty—not a soul inside. Undeterred, he moved on, like a husband eager to catch a cheater, opening the bedroom and the walk-in closet in turn. He even yanked open the laundry hamper, like maybe someone would be dumb enough to hide there. The whole performance was cold, humiliating, and weirdly theatrical.

I stood there, arms crossed, while he tore through my life like he was looking for evidence on a crime show. Only when he found the place truly empty did he finally seem to realize, and sneered.

"Playing games, Rachel? What’s the point? Anyway, we look so much alike. If that’s what you want, I can satisfy you."

As he spoke, his finger dug under my chin, and I hated how my skin prickled with shame. His cologne was overpowering, some overpriced thing that always reminded me of wood smoke and winter evenings.

I hadn’t said a word yet. Jason did.

"Jerk. Let go."

He rushed over and swung at Michael, but his fist passed right through—he couldn’t touch a single hair, only jumping around in frustration.

"Jeez. Rachel, he just came from another woman’s bed and now he’s hitting on you. Why are you just standing there? C’mon, Rach, you used to have a mean right hook. Don’t let this guy walk all over you."

Jason’s words were like a drum, making my heart tremble and freeze. Ten years ago, I really was reckless. Relying on my good grades, I once confronted the math teacher for over-punishing students during the Monday morning assembly. And when I saw a girl surrounded by bullies at the back gate, I stood up for her without hesitation. Back then, I thought I was a warrior, afraid of nothing.

If Jason hadn’t reminded me, I’d almost forgotten I used to be so "reckless." The memory stung—how I’d stopped being that girl somewhere along the way.

"Enough."

With a soft sigh, I brushed Michael’s hand away and walked past him. I finally found the cigarettes I’d been craving on the kitchen counter and lit one. The flame steadied my shaking hands. The bitter smoke tasted like defiance and endings.

"Michael, you know, with or without this face, I’d still have to put up with you."

My hands were still shaking, but for the first time in years, it felt like my own pulse.