Chapter 9 Too Late
It’s been almost a year since I landed in South Africa, and I haven’t had a moment to breathe.
Sometimes, colleagues back in America will still bring up Hugo and Sylvie.
His company’s been circling the drain. A ton of clients jumped ship and went to competitors.
He’s been sick constantly and rarely shows up for meetings. It’s like he’s given up running the place altogether.
As for Sylvie, she was only hanging on by her meds. After that anniversary video went viral, she dared not even step outside. Even in the hospital, she covers her whole face, terrified someone might splash her with water.
Her bucket list post got absolutely wrecked by trolls. With no income and no new sponsors, she’s barely surviving off the money I gave her a
while back.
Every now and then, Teresa texts me about the divorce papers. That’s the last thin thread tying me to any of them.
I was sipping coffee when I saw her name on my phone.
First, I asked, “Teresa, did Hugo finally agree to sign the divorce papers?”
Before she could answer, I heard someone sobbing.
The voice, painfully familiar yet distant, hit me like a brick. Hugo.
I was about to hang up and was already planning to block the number.
But then I heard him say.
“Don’t hang up. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
For a second, it felt like we were back in college again. He couldn’t stand the silence when we’d go home for the weekend. Even when we were sleeping, we had to stay on the phone together.
We were so in love then–never imagined things would end up like this.
I gave a bitter laugh and shook off the nostalgia.
My voice came out cold. “Hearing you makes me sick now.”
I heard him pause, breath catching.
After a long silence, he muttered.
“I’m sorry.”
But how could sorry ever begin to fix what he did to me?
“Sign the damn divorce papers. And don’t call me again. I won’t answer next time. Handle your life.”
I set my phone down and went back to work. I didn’t want to waste another second thinking about Hugo.
Clutching his phone, he still dared to speak quietly, desperately.
“If I sign, can I visit you abroad?”
I felt a stab of annoyance–not just at him, but at how pitiful he sounded.
Back when I loved him with everything I had, he didn’t care. And now, after breaking me, he acts like he’ll die without me. What’s the point?
I gave a dry laugh and reminded him.
“Why don’t you use that time to check on Sylvie? She’s the one who’s actually dying.
“Her bucket list still has a lot left. You better help her finish it while there’s time.”
My words were soaked in sarcasm, but Hugo didn’t even notice. He sounded excited.
“Rosalie, you still care about me, don’t you? That’s why you’re saying all this, right?
“I haven’t talked to Sylvie at all! I even cut her off financially. My whole family did. I don’t care if she lives or dies. I only care about you.”
He poured his heart out like it would change anything. But me? I felt nothing.
“Hugo,” I said, my voice flat, “we’ve been over for a long time.
“Instead of trying to win me back, you should try moving on.”
This time, I didn’t wait for his reply. I hung up first.
