It All Ends the Same

I quickly composed myself and adopted the polished demeanor of a business professional. Michael and I began discussing the project as we toured the massive factory floor.

Inside, rows of ceramic cat statues, intricately crafted and unique in design, lined the shelves.

Harrison was a well-established company in the area, known for its significant influence. They often supported smaller businesses and cooperated with government initiatives to boost the local economy.

This time, the project involved partnering with a local artisan workshop specializing in heritage crafts. The goal was to use our resources and Michael’s international channels to introduce these traditional products to foreign markets.

Right in the center of the workshop stood a massive structure—a colossal ceramic cat statue, towering over 130 feet tall.

The factory manager beamed with pride as he explained, “This piece is for the exhibition in a few days. We want to showcase our skill and share our culture with the world.”

Michael nodded, clearly impressed as he stared at the cat statue. “It’s remarkable. Would it be possible to see how it’s made?”

…

As I conversed with Michael in fluent German, I felt completely different from the meek, docile version of myself.

Randall’s gaze lingered on me longer than usual, his expression curious. It had been a long time since he’d seen me like this.

However, Macy, ever vigilant, noticed his attention on me and grew visibly anxious.

Seizing a moment when the factory manager was leading us to another area, Macy called out softly, “Ms. Nara.”

Although I didn’t want to engage, since a client was present, I replied politely, “Yes?”

She was just stepping closer when a loud shout pierced the air.

“Look out!”

In a split second, the massive structure we had just been admiring began to wobble. The enormous ceramic cat tilted dangerously before collapsing with a deafening crash.

Instinctively, I tried to push Randall out of harm’s way. However, he was already moving toward Macy, pulling her to safety as the sculpture came crashing down.

I couldn’t dodge in time and was hit in the calf.

The sharp pain radiated through my body. It wasn’t just the physical agony, but heartbreak, too.

My eyes found Randall’s across the chaotic room. There was a flicker of guilt on his face, but all I could think about was if he loved Macy that much.

What of me? What am I to him after ten years of marriage?

Factory workers scrambled to clear the debris, some lifting the broken pieces while others stabilized what was left of the frame. The injured were quickly rushed to the hospital.

In the hospital room, Randall sat by Macy’s bedside, his shoulder wrapped from where he’d been hit while protecting her.

Despite his injury, he still patiently told Macy, whose arm had suffered a minor scrape, “Be careful not to get the wound wet for the next few days, okay?”

The scene was enough to make someone in the room clear their throat in awkward disapproval.

Only then did Randall seem to remember my presence, his wife. He glanced apologetically at me. “Nara, are you okay?”

I looked down at my now bandaged leg.

Thank goodness the ceramic hadn’t been heavy enough to cause permanent damage. If the frame had fallen at full force, my leg could have been irreparably injured.

Still, the worst injury was to Michael. Standing directly beneath the collapsing structure, he’d been hit on the head.

There had to be an explanation for what happened.

The factory manager tried to explain, saying the wooden frame supporting the sculpture had been unstable. Likely, someone had jostled by, causing the collapse.

Unfortunately, the surveillance cameras had been malfunctioning, so we’d have to rely on our own recollections.

Randall’s expression darkened. “Who was near the unstable frame right before it fell?”

Macy hesitated, pretending to think before saying, “I think it was Ms. Nara.”