Failed Escape

Claire POV

Aaron had been calling me for days since that dinner invitation.

Every time his name lit up my screen, I thought of Vivian's soft, suggestive whispers that night, I let the phone keep ringing until it stopped.

Then came a message:

Aaron: Claire, please. Come out. I just want to see you.

Me: Sorry. I'm done being someone's maybe.

Once, no matter how angry I was, the moment he reached out, even just a little, I'd wipe away my tears, force a smile, and run straight into his arms.

But things changed when Vivian came back.

The more often she appeared, the less patient he became, with me, with us.

He stopped being the man who tried. I was always the one apologizing, always the one asking to stay.

Looking back now, I can hardly stand the woman I used to be.

All I wanted this time was one last dinner on the 19th, the night before I leave, for closure.

That afternoon, I curled my hair into the same soft waves I'd worn five years ago. The chestnut strands fell over my shoulders like a silken waterfall.

Bella called just as I was putting the finishing touches on my makeup.

"Hey, guess what? I heard Vivian and Aaron had a fight last night." Her voice brimmed with excitement.

"Really?" I arched a brow, adjusting my lipstick. "That's rare. I thought he practically built his world around her."

Bella raised her voice a little. "Apparently it was about you! No one knows what happened, but Aaron stormed out of the dinner and left Vivian there."

I kept my tone even. "Thanks for telling me, Bella. I appreciate it."

She hesitate. "You... don't care?"

A soft laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

"I'm leaving soon. Let them have whatever version of happiness they can manage."

I gave a quiet laugh. "I'm leaving anyway. I wish them well."

Then I slipped into the same blue dress I'd worn five years ago, styled my hair and makeup just as I had back then, and headed to Celestia.

Where everything began, and where it would end.

It was the same table. The same view.

Aaron must've had the restaurant prepare everything in advance, Celestia looked even more extravagant than it had five years ago.

Fine crystal, flickering candles, and a centerpiece of white lilies filled the room with their faint perfume.

There were no other guests tonight, only a discreet line of servers standing quietly in the distance.

He'd cleared the place again.

Typical Aaron.

I sighed, gazing out the window where the city lights were beginning to blur into the dusk.

What was I supposed to say when he arrived?

Would he accept it quietly, or lose his temper, as he always did when things slipped from his grasp?

My phone buzzed. Aaron's name lit the screen.

"Claire, I'm so sorry. The meeting ran longer than I expected. I'm coming to you now."

"It's been too long. I've missed you."

I could hear the faint rhythm of his footsteps, the low warmth in his voice that once made my heart flutter.

"Alright," I said softly, pretending lightness. "You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood tonight."

But as the sky deepened from amber to indigo, the seat across from me remained empty.

Half an hour passed.

Then an hour.

Aaron still hadn't shown up.

I called...

No answer.

Then Bella's name flashed across my screen.

"Claire, check the trending feed. Vivian's gone crazy."

My stomach tightened as I opened the news.

Vivian's car had swerved across Aaron's lane, stopping him dead in traffic.

The two cars collided in a perfect T, not hard but enough to draw a crowd.

Cameras caught everything:

Aaron running toward her, panic carved across his face as he pulled her into his arms.

Another shot showed him stopping a taxi, cradling her like something fragile, driving straight to the hospital.

The tabloids were having a field day:

"Just a minor crash, but Aaron's panic says it all—he looked like he was afraid of losing her."

"Vivian didn't seem hurt. In his arms, she looked... happy."

"After last night's heated argument, the two seem to have reconciled in the most dramatic, passionate way possible."

A dull, persistent ache hovered in my chest, subtle but insistent, like a quiet whisper I couldn't ignore.

One exquisite dish after another had been laid out across the table, the scent of burning candles filling the air, the entire restaurant bathed in a soft, romantic glow.

A waiter approached.

"Would you like to wait a little longer, ma'am?"

I silenced my phone. "I'll start without him."

A solo luxury dinner wasn't so bad, I told myself.

If he wasn't coming, I could just enjoy it all by myself.

But... the lobster lacked its usual richness.

The foie gras... a faint bitterness lingered, subtle, yet unmistakable.

I almost considered calling the chef over, but the thought felt ridiculous.

After picking at a few bites more out of habit than hunger, I pushed back my chair and stood.

This restaurant, it would never see me again.

Dragging my suitcase through the quiet streets of the night, I made my way to the airport.

The café I settled into was nearly empty, yet my phone buzzed relentlessly with Aaron's calls.

I blocked him.

And then his messages started pouring in through the app:

[Claire, I'm sorry. Vivian got hurt; I need to take care of her first.]

[We still have so many anniversaries ahead, right? I'll make it up to you.]

[Tomorrow we're getting remarried. Don't forget.]

Curiosity, or perhaps a need for closure, made me open Vivian's social feed.

It had been a long time since I peeked into her world.

And there it was, a stream of photos of her with Aaron at every conceivable occasion.

The latest update, posted just a few hours ago:

"You promised you'd always take care of me."

"And I've always believed..."

In the photo, she leaned into his embrace, fragile and delicate, while he held her with a tenderness and protectiveness I had once thought was mine alone.

I let out a small, ironic smile, unaware of when the tears had started to trace salty, bitter paths down my cheeks.

Dawn was just beginning to stain the sky.

I wiped my eyes, straightened my hair, and made sure I looked composed.

At 7 o'clock, I had checked in.

Aaron's message blinked on my screen, asking if I was on my way.

I didn't answer.

Instead, I quietly removed him from my contacts.

At 8 o'clock, I was queuing to board.

Unknown numbers flashed insistently across my phone, but I didn't answer, knowing it was him trying to reach me.

At 9 o'clock, the plane began its slow glide toward the runway.

Just as I was about to switch off my phone, Bella's call came through.

The moment I picked up, Aaron's voice, tense and urgent, came through the line:

"Claire, where are you?!"

（卡点）