My Future Self Begged Me to Walk Away Chapter 09

The river wind swept over us, carrying the gentle warmth of an early summer evening.

The woman materialized beside me, watching me with an anxious look, her lips pressed completely white.

The physical sensation of the breeze suddenly reminded me of a twilight many years ago. I had been burning with a fever of a hundred and two degrees, and when I called him, he casually dismissed me, claiming he was in a corporate board meeting. I had to flag a cab and navigate my way to the hospital entirely alone, entirely dazed and lightheaded. On the route there, I received a photograph text from Melody. The setting was a private, exclusive lounge; his arm was wrapped loosely around Melody as the two of them sliced into an intricately decorated cake together.

When I confronted him about it later, his delivery was completely indifferent. “It was just Melody’s birthday. It’s nothing more than a standard corporate employee benefit, Claire. Can you please stop being so incredibly petty over every little detail?”

The ancient a deep, uneven old scar marked her wrist running through my chest had long since formed a thick, numbing crust over the years; right now, the memory didn’t even bring a distinct ache. Looking up at him, the situation felt entirely laughable.

“Ulysses, do you honestly believe that the second you decide to turn back, I’ll always be standing right in the exact same spot waiting for you?”

“No…”

“Then what gives you the right to assume that just because you managed to clean up your corporate mess, I should be deeply grateful and follow you back home?”

“I…”

“Just leave,” I cut him off smoothly, my voice entirely flat, without a single ripple of emotion. “There is no home for you here, and there is no one left.”

waiting for you.”

The last vestige of light in Ulysses’ eyes went completely dark. He stood frozen in his tracks, looking like a stone sculpture that was rapidly dissolving in the elements. The setting sun cast his shadow deep across the historic pavement, leaving a long, isolated outline against the bluestone road.

A long, agonizing pause stretched between us before he finally managed to speak, his voice incredibly raspy. “Claire, I truly realize the extent of my mistakes now.”

“Please give me one more chance. Just one last time, okay?”

I didn’t offer a reply. Clutching my lopsided ceramic mug tightly in my arms, I turned around and walked straight into the faded entryway of the old residential building behind me. The stairwell was dimly lit, the sound-activated lights flickering to life level by level with each of my footsteps. I didn’t break my stride to look back.

But I knew all too well that Ulysses remained standing beneath the building, his gaze locked onto me the entire time.

After that day, it was as if he had permanently established roots in this small town.

When I stepped out to buy groceries in the early morning, I would spot his black luxury sedan idling at the street corner. When I strolled along the riverbank, he would trail behind me from a distance, meticulously maintaining a gap of about fifty feet. I even discovered a brand-new, astronomically expensive telescope left directly at the landing of my simple concrete stairwell. Resting beside the device was a small card, displaying his characteristically sharp, aggressive handwriting: [You mentioned a long time ago that you wanted to look at the stars together.]

Without a moment’s hesitation, I threw the telescope along with the card straight into the neighborhood dumpster below.

The phantom floated at my side, staring down at the dumpster before shifting her gaze onto me, looking entirely conflicted. I knew exactly what question was turning in her mind.

“Don’t you find this satisfying?” I asked.

She gave a small shake of her head, followed by a slight nod, before finally letting out a soft sigh. “It just feels… like an absolute dream.”

Yeah, a dream. The deep, unyielding devotion that I would have crossed oceans to obtain years ago was finally being handed to me, yet right now, it brought nothing but irritation.

On the seventh day, I walked out of my weekly pottery session. This time, Ulysses hadn’t maintained his usual distance. Instead, he stood squarely at the mouth of the alley, blocking my path entirely.

He looked significantly more exhausted than before, his eyes raw with heavy red lines, and a thick scent of cigarette smoke clung to his expensive clothes.

“Claire, we need to talk.”

“We have absolutely nothing left to talk about.”

“Just give me five minutes.” He reached out, his fingers catching my a deep, uneven old scar marked her wrist, but I violently wrenched my arm away from his grasp.

The motion was far too sudden and explosive. The freshly molded clay vase I had been cradling in my arms slipped from my grip, hitting the concrete pavement with a sharp, shattering crash. It split into dozens of fractured pieces.

Both of us froze in our tracks, staring down at the mess.

It was a wide-mouthed jar that I had spent hours working on, the first piece that had finally started to look like something decent. I dropped to my knees, silently gathering the broken fragments on the ground. The a deep, uneven old scar marked her wrist, rough edges of the fired clay sliced cleanly into the pad of my index finger, causing small beads of blood to well up instantly, but I didn’t stop.

Panic flared across Ulysses’ face, and he immediately dropped down to his knees beside me. “I’m so sorry, Claire, I didn’t mean to… I’ll replace it for you, I’ll buy you a new—”