Feather Drifting in the Wind

The banquet slowly quieted as it wound down.

Someone suggested a group photo, and laughter rose as people drifted toward the center.

Caesar found Ivy standing alone in the shadowed corner.

There was almost no color in her face. He walked over, his voice softer now, with a faint edge of guilt. He raised a hand like he was going to touch her cheek, but she tilted her head and avoided him.

His hand hung in the air for a moment before he let it back down. "Does your leg still hurt a lot?"

He lowered his voice.

"When we get back, I'll contact Professor Weaver. He has a new specialty drug from overseas. It's supposed to be best for scars. I won't let you end up with one."

Ivy raised her eyes. They slid over his face, calm and empty, then drifted past him to Florence, who was lifting the hem of her dress and hurrying over.

Both their faces were faintly red from alcohol.

Ivy saw it clearly. Bitterness rose in her throat.

"Okay," she said softly.

Caesar looked surprised by how obedient she was.

In the past, she would have fought him, demanded answers, cried, and made a scene. He studied Ivy's excessively calm face.

"You seem to have quieted down recently," he commented, his voice holding a curious hint.

Ivy didn't answer.

Quiet?

She had screamed herself hoarse before. She had cried. She had confronted him.

All it got her was his cold shoulder and his growing impatience, and then even more tenderness toward Florence.

As if her pain was proof she was childish and worthless.

Now, she was going to leave soon.

The visa approval would come soon.

None of this mattered anymore.

Even arguing with him in the final moments felt pointless.

The crowd pressed in as the photographer called for everyone to look at the camera.

Boom!

A deep, terrifying blast tore open above them. The crystal chandelier shook violently, then turned dark. The whole banquet hall started to shake.

"Aaaah!"

Screams, sobs, and the crashing sounds of falling objects swallowed everything around them in an instant.

Chunks of the ceiling broke loose and crashed down. People scattered in panic in all directions.

They were standing near the center, the most dangerous place to be.

A thick decorative plaster slab dropped straight toward them with a rushing whistle.

In that split second, Caesar's expression changed. He grabbed Florence almost on instinct and yanked her into his arms. He covered her with his own body as they dove under a heavy dining table, where it was safer.

Ivy had been right beside him. She even felt the wind of his movement as he lunged away.

She froze, stunned by the sudden disaster as she stared at Caesar and chose to protect someone else without any hesitation.

Ten years…

Memories flashed before her like a film.

Him in his expensive suit, reaching a hand out to her like a beam of light in that run-down apartment building.

His clumsy fingers tied up her hair.

The sweetness of the first slice of cake he ever bought her.

The love that had once existed in his eyes through those ninety-nine proposals.

Love and hate knotted together across ten long years.

And in the end, there was nothing left.

Then, Ivy saw it.

Another sharp chunk of debris was falling in a straight line toward the back of Caesar's head.

She didn't have time to think, and her body moved before her mind did. She rushed forward and shoved him hard, forcing him out from under the table where he was still curled around Florence.

Almost at the same time...

Bang!

Heavy debris and broken decorations crashed down and swallowed her.

Caesar went sprawling. When he turned back, he was shocked to see what had happened.

Where Ivy had been was now a mound of rubble. Only one pale hand stuck out, limp, fingers slightly curled.

He stared, blank.

"Caesar, I'm scared! I'm so scared!" Florence sobbed in his arms, yanking him back to the moment.

Rescue workers rushed in and started searching through the wreckage. They were found quickly enough.

Medical staff checked through them quickly, voices clipped and urgent. "Stretchers! Two injured here! The ambulance can take two more! Move!"

Caesar helped Florence to her feet. She was shaking and crying.

Almost without thinking, he pointed toward Florence's face urgently and said, "Take her first! She just had a skin graft on her face. She can't risk an infection. We can't afford to make mistakes."

Only then did he look at Ivy on the ground, her breathing faint. His brows turned into a frown as he spoke quickly, like he was trying to calm her.

"Ivy, hang in there. I've had them call a second ambulance. Stay with me. You'll be fine!" He paused, tightened his hold around Florence, and added, "Florence scares easily, and she's really shaken. I have to stay with her."

Ivy, lying in cold rubble, heard every word as she slipped in and out of consciousness.

That was how the last tiny spark in her heart went out completely.

Of course.

It was always the same.

She couldn't even feel disappointment anymore. The only sensation that was left behind was numb, bitter pain.

She knew this was coming, right?

With the last of her strength, she moved her head in the smallest nod, like she understood, like she agreed.

Seeing how "sensible" she was, Caesar seemed to relax. He stopped hesitating, wrapped his arms around the sobbing Florence, and followed the stretcher toward the exit, never looking back once.

Ivy lay in darkness and silence, listening to footsteps fade and the ambulance siren rise into the distance.

She slowly lost consciousness.