Chapter 3

Joanna's POV

I went to the rehearsal hall with my injury.

My ankle wrapped in thick bandages, I didn't go onstage. I just spent the day supervising the group dance formations from the side.

Someone asked if I wanted to take leave. I said no need. Sitting was still work.

At eight in the evening, I returned home. The entryway light was off.

Only my shoes sat by the shoe cabinet. No messages from him on my phone.

Another day and night without him coming home.

My phone rang while I was pouring water.

"Hello, your online visa review has been approved. Now you just need to mail the paper materials. We can issue the visa within three business days."

"Okay, I'll organize everything tonight and mail it first thing tomorrow."

"Wishing you all the best."

After hanging up, I walked into the bedroom.

I opened the nightstand drawer. Passport, ID documents, bank statements, employment verification.

I placed the documents into a folder one by one.

Halfway through packing, I suddenly stopped and glanced around the room.

Ethan had mild OCD. He didn't like the house cluttered with too many things.

When I first moved in, I'd bought a floor lamp. He said it didn't match, so I returned it.

Later I wanted to grow flowers on the balcony. He said they'd attract bugs, so I didn't.

Over five years, I'd learned to minimize my presence in this home.

Only now, while packing, did I realize I owned so little it wouldn't even fill a suitcase.

A few seasonal clothes, one pair of backup dance shoes, a jewelry box, my passport, and some contract copies.

That was it.

Five years, condensed into half a suitcase.

The bedroom door suddenly pushed open.

Ethan walked in. He paused when he saw the documents spread across the bed.

"What are you working on?"

"Organizing visa materials," I replied without looking up. "I was thinking we could travel abroad for Christmas. Preparing in advance."

"Christmas?" Ethan glanced at me. "It's only July-"

Before he finished, his phone rang.

Grace's name lit up the screen.

"Ethan, the ER transferred a patient. I can't handle it alone. Can you come help?"

The voice on the other end wasn't loud, but in the quiet room, it was crystal clear.

Ethan hung up and looked at me. His lips moved.

He looked guilty, yet couldn't let it go.

"Go ahead," I said, folding a document and tucking it into the bag. "Work is important."

Ethan stood there, frowning. Something probably felt off to him.

If this were the old me, I definitely would have frowned and said, "She's also a doctor. She even worked abroad. Can't she handle something this small?"

"There are so many doctors at the hospital. Why does she always call you?"

But this time I said nothing.

I didn't even lift my eyes from the documents.

"I probably won't be back tonight," he said. "Breakfast together tomorrow?"

"Okay."

Ethan left, reassured.

The sound of the door closing was soft. The car engine started about two minutes later.

I listened to the engine fade away, then packed the remaining materials into the folder and sealed it.