Chapter 5: Four Days to Freedom

Jonathan saw her out, and when he returned, he was frowning. He closed the door a little too hard, running a hand through his hair. He looked at me like he was searching for answers.

I ignored him and went back to the kitchen to cook again. I busied myself with the dishes, pretending not to notice his frustration. The clatter of pans was the only sound between us.

“Did you do it on purpose?” Jonathan sounded puzzled. He stood in the doorway, arms folded, his tone caught between suspicion and concern.

Then he explained, “Her husband was my old college buddy. Before he passed, he asked me to look out for them. Your cooking is really good, and the kid likes it.” He spoke quietly, almost defensively, as if he needed to justify himself. I wondered if he even realized how much he’d changed.

When I didn’t reply, Jonathan shook his head, as if giving in. “Since you don’t like it, I won’t invite them over again.” He sounded tired, defeated. But I could tell he was already thinking about how to see them anyway. I didn’t care. Not anymore.

The next day, after Jonathan left, I took out my suitcase, preparing to return to Maple Heights in a few days. I waited until I heard the front door click shut before pulling the old suitcase from under my bed. Its wheels squeaked across the floor, a small rebellion in the quiet apartment.

Although we had a childhood engagement, both families had exchanged keepsakes and birthdays. I remembered the little lockets, the birthday cards signed by both mothers, the expectation that we’d always be together. It all felt so far away now, like a story from someone else’s life.

If we truly wanted to break it off, we had to do it in front of the neighbors, so there’d be no confusion later. In Maple Heights, everyone knew everyone’s business. Breaking an engagement was a public act, a kind of ritual. I braced myself for the whispers.

While packing, I saw the quilt covers and pillows I’d secretly embroidered over the years. The stitches were uneven, but each one held a memory—a night spent dreaming of a different life, a hope for love that never came.

After a moment’s thought, I gathered the quilt covers, pillows, and new shoes I’d made, put them in a bag, and went to the pawn shop at the end of the block. The bell above the door jingled as I entered. The clerk, watching a baseball game on a tiny TV, barely looked up as I laid my things on the counter. It hurt to let them go, but I needed the money more than the memories.

Things I’d spent years making sold for just thirty bucks. I counted the bills twice, the reality settling in. It was barely enough for a week’s groceries at the local market. My past was worth less than a tank of gas.

Though it wasn’t much, food and living expenses at college would add up, so I could save this money. Every penny mattered now. I tucked the cash deep into my wallet, determined to make it last.

Back home, I marked a big X on today’s date on the calendar. The red marker bled through the paper. Each X was a victory, a countdown to freedom.

Twenty days left. The number felt huge and small all at once. I let myself hope.

In twenty days, I could leave this place and start my new life. I whispered the words aloud, letting them settle in the air. My new life. Mine.

Jonathan came home very late. The clock on the wall ticked past ten. I waited in the dark, listening for the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, the muffled voices of other tenants drifting through the walls.

The food I made was untouched. It sat cold on the counter, the steam long gone. I wrapped it up and put it in the fridge, more out of habit than hope.

“I ate at school,” he explained casually. His voice was light, almost dismissive. He didn’t meet my eyes.

But smelling the white tea perfume on him, I knew he must have eaten with Lauren and her daughter. The scent lingered in the hallway, sharp and floral. It clung to his clothes, a silent confession.

He knew eating at home would upset me, so he took them out to eat before coming back. It was considerate in a way, but also cowardly. I wondered if he realized how obvious it was.

I quietly put away the dishes and returned to my room. I moved through the house like a ghost, careful not to make a sound. My room was my only refuge.

My room was full of my high school books and papers; there wasn’t enough space, so many were stacked in the living room. Cardboard boxes and old grocery bags overflowed with textbooks and notebooks, each one a reminder of the future I was fighting for.

I tied up the books in my room with string, planning to pack those in the living room after Jonathan left tomorrow. The knot was tight, my fingers steady. I was determined not to leave anything behind—not a single page.

Since I was leaving, it wouldn’t be right to leave any of my things behind. I didn’t want to give anyone an excuse to say I owed them anything.

While I was packing, I heard a knock at the door. It was soft, hesitant. Jonathan never entered without asking. I waited, heart pounding.

I knew it was Jonathan; he had always been polite, never stepping into my room without my permission. He’d knock, wait for my answer, then linger in the hall if I didn’t respond. Some boundaries, at least, he respected.

“What is it?” Not wanting him to see me packing, I asked through the door. I kept my voice even, trying not to betray the nerves twisting in my stomach.

After a long silence, he spoke again: “I’m filling out the marriage license—can we set the date for the ninth of next month?” The words hung in the air, heavy and familiar. I remembered that date all too well.

The ninth of next month was the day I married Jonathan in my previous life. It felt like fate was taunting me. I stared at my suitcase, the future balanced on a knife’s edge.

I glanced at my packed suitcase and replied lightly, “Marriage is a big deal. I’ll have to talk it over with my family when I’m back.” I tried to sound casual, as if it didn’t matter. But my hands shook as I folded another shirt.

After another long silence, I finally heard his footsteps leaving. His retreat felt like a small victory. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the headboard. The room was quiet, the only sound my own heartbeat. I closed my eyes and let the tension drain away.

Actually, with his position now, he didn’t need to notify the family to file a marriage license. He could have done it all himself, if he wanted to. But maybe, somewhere deep down, he knew it wasn’t right.

Besides, my parents died young, so because of our childhood engagement, his parents had taken me in. The Whitakers had always treated me kindly, but kindness wasn’t love. I’d learned that the hard way.

So in everyone’s eyes, I was already part of the Whitaker family; the marriage registration was just a formality. It was just paperwork—another box to check on the list of expectations.

Besides, he was handsome, had a good job, and treated me well. On paper, he was perfect. But paper can’t hold a heart. I gripped the edge of the sheet of paper in my lap, my knuckles white. Anyone could see my heart was already his.

That’s what they all believed. But I knew better now.

I did owe the Whitaker family. For years, I’d carried that debt like a stone in my pocket.

But in my previous life, I spent a lifetime repaying that debt. Every sacrifice, every sleepless night—I’d paid in full.

I owe them nothing more. This time, I want to walk my own path—a path without Jonathan Whitaker. I whispered it aloud, letting the words settle in the quiet room. My path. My choice. I’d remind myself of that every day if I had to.

The next morning, I was surprised to see Jonathan had made breakfast. The hiss of the frying pan, the scent of cinnamon and coffee, drifted from the kitchen. For a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming.

Fried eggs and oatmeal—my favorites. He’d remembered, after all these years. I sat down, unsure of what to say.

In the three years I studied here, he rarely did this. Usually, breakfast was a rushed affair—coffee gulped on the way out the door. This felt almost intimate.

I sat down quietly. The table was set for two. I kept my eyes on my plate, afraid to meet his gaze.

At the table, only the sound of the spoon occasionally tapping the bowl could be heard. The silence was thick, broken only by the soft clink of silverware. I wondered what he was thinking.

“I’ll take leave and go back with you,” Jonathan suddenly said, looking up. His voice startled me. He looked determined, as if he’d already made up his mind.

I was startled and instinctively shook my head. Panic rose in my chest. I couldn’t let him come with me—not now.

“I’ll drive you back. It’s not safe for you to go alone,” he frowned at me. He always worried about appearances, about what people might say if I traveled alone. I wanted to scream that I could take care of myself.

I was about to find an excuse to refuse when a little girl ran in from outside. Her laughter broke the tension, bright and unexpected.

“Godfather!” Emmy’s voice was high and sweet. She barreled into the kitchen, arms outstretched.

The little girl had two pink butterfly bows in her hair and ran straight into Jonathan’s arms. She wore a sparkly Paw Patrol backpack and clutched a juice box in one hand. He scooped her up easily, spinning her around. For a moment, he looked genuinely happy.

“Emmy, why are you here? Where’s your mom?” Jonathan instinctively looked outside. He craned his neck, searching the sidewalk for Lauren. His concern was obvious.

Emmy glanced up at me from his arms. “Mom said Auntie doesn’t like her, so she’s afraid to come.” Her words were innocent, but they stung. I forced a smile, not trusting myself to speak.

I quietly looked at this future daughter-in-law who, in my previous life, never once appeared before me after marrying my son. She was beautiful, even at three. Her eyes were bright, her smile infectious. I wondered what kind of woman she’d grow up to be.

Though only three years old, she was already beautiful. It was easy to see why people adored her. She had Jonathan’s charm, Lauren’s grace.

So even though she was four years older than my son, he still treated her and her mother like queens. In another life, they’d become the center of his world. I was just a footnote.

Naturally, Jonathan hurried away with Emmy, because she said Lauren seemed unwell. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even look back at me. His priorities were clear.

And Jonathan didn’t say a word—he just took the child and rushed out. The front door banged shut behind them. I was alone again.

I sneered. A bitter laugh escaped me. It was almost funny, how predictable it all was.

Now it was perfect—I didn’t need to worry about finding an excuse to go back alone. I felt a strange sense of relief. At least now, I could leave on my own terms.

I picked up a pen, stood in front of the calendar again, and marked a big X on today’s date. Each stroke felt like a small victory. Nineteen days left.

I quickly gathered all the books from my room and tied up my notes, books, and test papers in the living room. I worked quickly, my hands steady. I wanted to be ready, just in case.

After selling everything, I had thirteen dollars and set off back to Maple Heights. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—barely enough for a couple of coffees and a bus ticket. I slung my bag over my shoulder and didn’t look back.

Today, I was going to break off my engagement with Jonathan Whitaker. The words echoed in my mind, equal parts terrifying and liberating.

The two elders treated me well, but convincing them to break off the engagement wasn’t too hard. I rehearsed my speech all the way there, heart pounding.

I just had to tell them that Jonathan was about to make it big, and that he and I were no longer suited for each other. It was a half-truth, but it was enough. I hoped they’d understand.

The backyard in Maple Heights was quiet and stifling. The summer air was thick, the only sound the distant hum of cicadas and the faint clatter from a nearby Little League game. The world felt suspended, waiting.

A bonfire burned in the grass, mosquitoes circling around it. The smoke curled up into the twilight, carrying with it the scent of burning leaves. I slapped at my arms, trying to ignore the bites.

I sat beneath the old wooden fence, pressing tobacco leaves with a cutting board and slicing them thin with a kitchen knife. The rhythm of the knife was soothing, almost meditative. The fence creaked behind me, a familiar comfort.

Uncle Dave and Aunt Linda sat silently on the porch steps. Their faces were lined with worry, their hands clasped tight in their laps. They’d always been there for me, in their own quiet way.

After a while, they sighed deeply and earnestly tried to persuade me, “Annie, even if he likes someone else, you two are engaged. If he dares not marry you, I’ll set him straight myself!” Uncle Dave’s voice was gruff, but there was real affection there. He’d always looked out for me, even when I didn’t ask.

“Your parents are gone. Before they passed, they asked us to look after you. You, you… sigh…” Aunt Linda’s eyes filled with tears. She reached over and squeezed my hand. I felt the weight of their love, and their worry.

Seeing I stayed silent for a long time, they looked at each other and could only say helplessly, “Why are you so stubborn?” They’d always called me stubborn, even as a child. I smiled a little, despite myself.

“Come on… let’s find the community board president.” It was the Maple Heights way—settle things fair and square, in front of witnesses. I nodded, grateful for their support.

I silently followed behind them. The walk to the community center was quiet. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

The board president wrote a statement, and the engagement keepsakes were exchanged back in front of several neighbors. The whole process was quick but solemn. We sat in the church basement, the smell of coffee and paper everywhere. I felt the eyes of the town on me, but I stood tall. This was my choice.

I breathed a sigh of relief and helped the two elders back home. Their shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but I could tell they were proud of me, in their own way.

I knew they only wanted the best for me. They’d given me a home when I had nowhere else to go. I’d never forget that.

By rights, Jonathan was now the most sought-after young man, so even his own parents couldn’t understand why I insisted on breaking off the engagement. People would talk, I knew that. But I didn’t care anymore.

But I couldn’t tell them. Some secrets were too heavy to share.

I couldn’t say that my last life was so bitter, that even my only son was actually Lauren’s child, and that he’d been given to them as family. The truth was twisted, too painful for words. I swallowed it down, burying it deep—a memory of my son calling Lauren "Mom," of me standing in the hallway, unseen.

And I— Spent my life alone. But not this time. This time, I’d choose myself.

The engagement was finally dissolved. The relief was immediate, like a weight lifting off my chest. I was free.

The two elders said that from now on, I was their daughter. Aunt Linda hugged me tight, her voice trembling. “You’ll always have a home here, Annie. Don’t you forget it.”

I didn’t mention going to study in the Northwest, but I stayed at home with them for half a month. We spent quiet evenings on the porch, watching the fireflies blink in the dark and the local news humming from the living room. For the first time in years, I felt at peace.

When I left, the two elders walked me all the way to the end of the street. Their footsteps were slow, their hands warm in mine. I promised to call, to write, to visit every chance I got.

They kept reminding me to treat this as my home and to come back and visit often. Their voices echoed after me as I boarded the Greyhound bus. I waved until they were out of sight.

When I got to town to buy a ticket, I discovered they had stuffed two hundred dollars into my bag. I found the bills tucked between my clothes, a silent gift. My throat tightened. I pressed the money to my chest, overwhelmed by their kindness.

I couldn’t help but cry. Tears streamed down my face as the bus pulled away. For the first time in a long time, they were tears of gratitude, not sorrow.

After returning, the first thing I did was mark fifteen big red Xs on the calendar. The calendar—a Hallmark with a motivational quote at the bottom—was almost full now, a map of my journey out of the past. Each X was a promise kept.

Four days left. Just four more days. I could hardly believe it.

Only four days left. I counted them again, just to be sure. Freedom was so close, I could taste it.

I was carrying my luggage, about to go to my room, when I heard the door open. My heart sank. I knew that sound all too well.

Jonathan had just come back from work, with Lauren and Emmy. They filled the doorway with laughter, Emmy skipping ahead, clutching a bag of Goldfish crackers. I steeled myself for whatever came next.

“You’re back?” Jonathan looked a bit surprised to see me. He set his briefcase down, his expression unreadable. I nodded, keeping my face neutral.

Lauren nodded at me politely, then turned and went straight into my room. The click of her heels echoed on the hardwood, her perfume lingering in the hallway. She didn’t even wait for an invitation. I watched, stunned, as she brushed past me.

I frowned as I watched her close my door as if it were her own. The click of the lock echoed in the hallway. My hands tightened on my suitcase.

—While my things were still piled in the living room. Books, clothes, all my memories stacked in plain sight. It was as if I’d already been erased.

I looked at Jonathan. He avoided my gaze, fiddling with his keys. I waited, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Jonathan paused, as if remembering something. “Oh, after the heavy rain a couple of days ago, the roof at Lauren’s place leaked, so they’re staying here for a few days.” He said it like it was nothing, like it was perfectly reasonable to give away my room without asking.

“I saw you weren’t here and didn’t have much stuff in your room, so I let her stay there.” His words stung. I wanted to shout, to demand my space back. But I just stared at him, gripping my suitcase, setting my jaw, stunned by his casual disregard.

So it’s fine to clear out my things without asking and let someone else move in? The question burned in my mind. I bit my tongue, refusing to let him see how much it hurt. This was the last straw. Four days left, I reminded myself. Just four more days, and I’d be gone for good. Could I survive that? I had to.