Chapter 5: The Rental Apartment

5

After that day, I didn’t contact Ryan again. Until the new weekend arrived.

The reality show uses a rotation system. This weekend, the original couples would switch back.

“Director.” Lauren’s tone was very understanding, as if thinking for the show. “My and Ethan’s popularity is too high. If you switch back now, the audience will curse you.”

The director thought for a few seconds: “But—”

“Ethan,” Lauren turned, “who are you choosing tonight?”

She’d waited a long time for this moment. The more secret something is, the more it wants to be chosen in public.

Ethan understood her thoughts. He deliberately glanced at my face, leaned back in his chair.

“Is there even a choice?”

“The audience doesn’t want to see her.”

Lauren got the answer she wanted, then looked at me. “Natalie, you don’t mind, right?”

“But you’ve been a housewife too long, probably don’t know—audience preference is most important, you should think of the big picture…”

“Okay.”

I replied crisply.

Ethan looked up at me. They all thought I would make a scene. That way, they could edit my reaction into the extra footage to highlight Lauren’s thoughtfulness.

But they didn’t expect me to agree so easily.

Lauren, who had painstakingly memorized her lines, had nowhere to say them, and after holding it in for a while, awkwardly said:

“That’s good, just don’t regret it.”

I said, “Let’s do it this way from now on.”

Her face stiffened slightly. Then she smiled again, tucked her hair behind her ear, and said softly:

“Are you trying to make Ethan jealous?”

“Everyone knows you’re on the show to win him back.”

“What to do, not only is he not jealous, you have to watch him go into my room.”

Over there, the director called out. They decided to continue last week’s setup.

Before leaving, Ethan, somewhat teasing, asked Lauren: “Aren’t you afraid of her and Ryan in one room?”

At the mention of that name, Lauren reacted strongly. She seemed to hear the world’s funniest joke.

“I’ve never seen him like anyone.”

“With her?”

“Locked together for a year, he still didn’t like her.”

The two exchanged glances and smiled knowingly.

Ethan, in front of me, deliberately took off his coat and put it on Lauren.

“Natalie, if you want to win me back, these tricks aren’t enough.”

He wanted to provoke me. Make me break down in public, so he could become the victim.

Ethan and Lauren were taken to a luxury villa. This was the reward for last week’s highest chemistry score. Lauren posted a candlelight dinner on Instagram. The comments all shipped them.

All this I saw while scrolling on my phone in the show’s car. The car was headed for the old city district.

[If these two don’t get their heart rate up today, they’ll be eliminated, right?]

[They won’t eliminate Ryan, his status is too high, they’ll probably switch partners.]

[So boring, why did Ryan even join this show]

[The weirder, the more I ship it, I feel something will happen.]

[The one above is crazy, if something really happens, I’ll eat my shoe]

I put away my phone and asked the staff: “Where are Ryan and I staying tonight?”

“You two had the lowest heart rate, so you have to be punished. Tonight you’ll stay in…”

The car stopped, he nodded at the old apartment building in front of me. “There,” he said, “a rental apartment.”

Getting out of the car. Filming me was just an in-car livestream camera. From a distance, only my back could be seen. No sound could be heard.

I stood at the door. My mind went blank for a few seconds.

I took out my phone and called my former boss, also my best friend.

“Ryan told me, long time no see.”

Right now, I desperately needed her to pour cold water on me.

“So what?”

“What else could he say?”

Just as I expected.

“To be blunt, who doesn’t have an ex?”

“He has so many options, why would he choose a divorced woman like you?”

“Just because of those months you relied on each other? Be honest, that was his lowest point in life, who would miss that?”

She was right. I hung up.

I opened the door.

Ryan was on a ladder, fixing the ceiling light. When he raised his hand, his lean muscles rippled, lines smooth. Just like back then. Only, when filming with a wire harness, his waist was wrapped in bandages.

That old lamp in his hand. Off, then on again. Too familiar. So much so that I stood at the door, unable to enter for a long time.

“Dinner.” He saw me. Simple words, no extra expression. Making my unease seem especially strange.

I was overthinking. For him, maybe this show was just a safe way to end his marriage publicly.

Outside, it was snowing. He was tall and well-built, with sharp features, supporting himself on the counter preparing mac and cheese. He exuded the aura of a husband.

I snapped a pic of Ryan in the kitchen, his back to me, and posted it with a caption: #RoommateLife. Within seconds, my notifications blew up.

Counted as completing the show’s task.

After eating, he didn’t make me wash the dishes. He moved quickly, washed his hands, and then, for some reason, started making my bed.

There was only one bed. He said he’d sleep on the floor.

“Does your waist injury need a new bandage?” I asked.

“I can do it myself,” he said.

After showering, I came out of the bathroom to find a thin blanket already laid out on the floor. He was taking out a long bandage from his suitcase. I instinctively avoided his gaze and took out my phone.

Ethan sent me a voice message. My hands were wet, and I accidentally played it out loud.

Ethan saw the Instagram post I made. “Can you eat mac and cheese?”

“Last time at home, you said you wanted that cake, I bought it for you on the way.”

That cake was what I said I wanted for my birthday last year. He never bought it for me. Waited so long, now he bought it just to maintain his affectionate image on the show.

I stared at the cake box on the counter. Last year, I’d have given anything for that. Now, it felt like a prop.

The light above was blocked by Ryan. “Can you help me?”

He was holding the roll of bandage. Didn’t he just say he could do it himself?

Changing the dressing, wrapping the bandage. My arms weren’t long enough, so I could only circle him with both hands, not quite touching. My pulse pounded in my ears. We kept our voices low, like the walls might spill our secrets.

In this old rental apartment. The heating was weak, and the smell of snow and rain seeped in through the old house’s cracks. It was clearly cold. But we kept our distance. My fingertips only touched the bandage. His face could only turn to the side, looking elsewhere.

Not like that year, in the southern apartment. Hot, airless. It was clearly hot. But again and again, as if there was no tomorrow, we possessed each other recklessly.

“Snap.” The lamp turned on. We stood under the light.

In the poorest, most hopeless year, we couldn’t bear to change even a lamp. If it worked, we used it. That old lamp was fixed again and again. Always flickered at midnight.

Back then, eighteen-year-old Ryan told me: “If that lamp buzzes, that’s me missing you, just so you know.”

Tonight. At an age lacking nothing. The lamp flickered countless times.

I looked up and said to Ryan, “Didn’t you fix it just now?”

He froze, looked down into my eyes. “Yeah.”

“I did it on purpose.”

I asked him, “Why?”

“If I fix it, you won’t hear it anymore.”

I was stunned.

He took the bandage from my hand and deftly wrapped it around himself.

“Natalie.”

He called my name.

“Yeah?”

“Do you prefer mac and cheese or cake?”

People always have to answer honestly about food.

“Mac and cheese.”