After the Wind: My Goodbye Chapter 2

"Why are you so quiet?"

On the drive back, Matthew held the steering wheel with one hand, casting a quick glance at me.

The streetlights cast flickering shadows across his handsome profile.

I pulled my gaze back from the window, staring down at my bare wrist.

"Nothing to say," I murmured.

Matthew sighed, braking at a red light.

He reached over the console with his right hand, instinctively trying to squeeze the back of my neck.

I tilted my head slightly, dodging his touch.

His hand froze in midair for a second.

Then he smoothly pulled it back, resting it on the steering wheel.

"Are you seriously still throwing a tantrum over that bracelet?"

His tone carried that familiar, weary indulgence used for a spoiled child.

"You know how my mother is. She's old-fashioned."

"Mary lost her parents when she was young and grew up in our house. My mother has always felt she owes her."

"It is just an emerald bracelet. If she wants to give it away, so be it. Was it really worth making a face at dinner?"

Making a face?

I had not said a single word. I had simply eaten my dinner in silence.

But to him, my refusal to smile and play along with Mary's boasting made me difficult.

"Matthew," I said, my voice flat.

"Yeah?"

"You told me five years ago that the bracelet would be mine."

The car went dead silent.

A horn blared behind us; the light had turned green.

Matthew hit the gas, and the car glided forward smoothly.

"We were just starting the business back then. I didn't have the money to buy you anything nice. It was just sweet talk to make you happy, and you've held onto it until now?"

He let out a dry laugh, his tone casual and dismissive.

"Do you really think the Brandt family can't afford a better bracelet now?"

"I'm going to Europe next month on business. I'll bring you back a couture diamond necklace. It'll look a hundred times better than that dusty old emerald."

"Be good, Norie. Stop sweating the small stuff."

He was always like this.

Using the gentlest voice to effortlessly erase every hope I had for our future.

Five years ago, Matthew bought me a cheap thirty-dollar silver band at a night market stall.

With bloodshot eyes, he had slipped it onto my finger.

"Norie, once I make it big, I'll have my mom personally put our family's heirloom emerald bracelet on you."

"I'm going to make you Mrs. Brandt, with all the bells and whistles."

I was still wearing that cheap silver band on my left hand.

It had already tarnished to a dull, dark gray.

The car rolled into our apartment complex's underground garage.

Matthew unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at me.

"Tomorrow is the weekend. Where do you want to go? I'm all yours."

In the past, I would have happily researched itineraries, filling the day with plans.

But now, I only felt an exhausting emptiness.

"Don't worry about it," I said, pushing the door open. "I need to clean up the apartment tomorrow."

Matthew got out, locked the car, and caught up to me in a few quick strides.

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Are you really mad at me?"

His breath brushed against my ear, carrying the faint, rich scent of red wine.

"Mary was so excited about the bracelet she couldn't sleep. She wants me to take her to get a custom vintage dress tailored tomorrow to match it."

"You know she has terrible taste and has relied on me since we were kids."

"I'll go with her in the morning, and I'll be back to spend the afternoon with you, okay?"

"Okay," I said softly.

Matthew smiled with satisfaction, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.

"I knew my Norie was the sweetest."

When we got inside, Matthew headed straight for the bathroom.

I walked to the entryway, hanging my bag on the coat rack.

Unzipping it, I looked at the document lying quietly inside.

An acceptance letter for an advanced study program at the National School of Fine Arts in Paris.

At the very bottom was my signature, penned just this afternoon.

I pulled it out and slipped it into the hidden compartment of my half-packed suitcase.

The sound of rushing water echoed from the bathroom.

I walked out to the balcony and texted my mentor in Paris.

Hey, I've booked my flight for early Monday morning.

She replied instantly: Finally came to your senses? Good for you! Forget that five-year waste of time. Get your ass to Paris. I'll show you what real European gentlemen look like!

I stared at the screen, a quiet, faint smile touching my lips.