Beneath the Landslide

Every day at the hospital, besides eating and drinking, I would chat with the young firefighter. I found out that my savior was from the same hometown as me and shared an interest in painting, giving us endless things to talk about.

Every day in the hospital was joyful for me.

That was, of course, until a call came in one night.

"Emma White, where are you? How are you still not back yet?"

Ethan's voice was accusatory right from the start. Well, that killed my good mood.

"I told you, Ethan, when you get a chance, let's finalize the divorce."

There was a moment of silence on the other end before he spoke, annoyed.

"Alright, alright. Divorce, divorce—aren't you tired of talking about that all the time? Just because I didn't visit you in the hospital? Fine, tell me which hospital, and I'll drop by when I have time."

I had posted a photo on my social media showing me in the hospital with the caption, [I've been reborn… This time, I'll take back what's mine.]

Ethan did not care that I had been trapped for seven days before being rescued. He did not understand how traumatizing that was. I almost did not make it out alive. All he did was accuse me of blowing things out of proportion, then toss me a half-hearted offer to visit when convenient.

I remembered how much of a pushover I used to be.

I spoke up, "Ethan, I'm serious."

"Serious? About what? Emma, you better make yourself clear!"

Before he could continue his tirade, I hung up.

The peace was refreshing.

I lay back on the bed, thinking about how I would carry on with my life.

I used to love Ethan so much that I was willing to give up my career to be the perfect wife. Looking back at it, however, I realized how foolish that was.

A woman needed to have her own career.

I remembered how I once haggled with the market vendor over a 10-dollar discount, and he yanked me away, saying I was embarrassing like some street shrew.

The Ethan of the past would have praised me, saying, "Emma, you're amazing, you're so good at managing things."

When I went to get beauty treatments, he would say it was a waste of money, that my face would not look any different either way.

Even when I picked up painting again, he criticized me, asking what I was 'messing around with' at my age when I never succeeded at anything. He told me I should focus on taking care of him and the house.

Looking back, it was all emotional manipulation. Day after day, I had been under his control, thinking I was worthless. That was why, during the landslide, my first reaction was not to escape but to call Ethan for help.

I used to be the brightest star in school. Ethan's methods of pursuing me were known all over campus. Our story was practically famous.

"My darling daughter! Oh, you're alive! You scared me to death!"

My parents, who saw the news about the landslide, were terrified and flew all the way from our hometown, crossing nearly half the country to see me.

On the other hand, Ethan, who was closest to me, still needed to 'make time' to visit me.

This was not some minor illness; I barely escaped death. Even my parents could tell something was wrong.

"Sweetheart, did you two have a fight?"

"No, I just want a divorce."

When I mentioned divorce, my parents exchanged glances but did not try to stop me.

"I told you ages ago that guy wasn't good enough for you, but you didn't believe me. Pfft."

"Shut up! Weren't you the one who invested the most money in him? Didn't you used to say Ethan was your promising student? Well, look at your 'promising student' now. These years, he's made my daughter more and more miserable each time she visits.

"Sweetheart, if you want a divorce, go ahead. A woman in her twenties is like a blooming flower. The world won't stop turning for anyone. You've still got us, your parents."

I hugged them and cried out all the fear from the landslide, the disappointment in Ethan's infidelity, and the uncertainty of life after the divorce.

I cried until my voice was hoarse before stopping, seriously thinking about what to do next.

First, I needed to move out. Then, I would pick up my paintbrush and find the person I used to be.

Ethan never contacted me again. He clearly did not take my words seriously.

It seemed he thought I was not serious when I talked about divorce. He thought I could not live without him.

Even his friends started berating him.

"Man, you should go home. Emma barely survived the ordeal! You should check on her."

"Emma is a great girl. You should treat her right. Don't end up really losing her."

"Yeah, think about how hard you worked to chase after her. The whole school knew, from the principal down to the cafeteria staff and janitors."

"She wasn't easy to get to at the time, and now you're just going to throw her away?"

Ethan waved them off, clearly irritated but with a smug look on his face.

"Let me tell you something. I wrote her a few love letters back in the day, and she still keeps them. Every time we argue, she pulls them out to read.

"A girl like Emma? She's not going anywhere. Don't worry, I'm just waiting for her to come begging me."

A few days later, when Ethan finally came home and saw that I had moved out, he panicked.

He went crazy, sending me texts and calling nonstop. Regardless of what he did, I only replied with one thing. "Do you have time to finalize the divorce?"

Ethan eventually showed up.

At that moment, I was talking with Alex Capel, the young firefighter who saved me, whether it was worth opening an art studio. My paintings had gotten a good response, and I had already received quite a few small commissions.

Alex was always making jokes. Out of five sentences, three would make me laugh so hard I could not sit still.

"Well, well, Emma! You weren't home for a week and even moved out. I was wondering what was going on, but it turns out you're here cheating on me.

"Come on, let's go home. I want to hear your explanation!"