Chapter 12: Two of a Kind

Cecilia looked around; everything felt utterly unfamiliar. She'd forgotten the way back again. Reaching for her phone to use the GPS, she struggled to recall the name of her lodgings. Calvin, who had been following her at a distance, worried since Nathaniel's departure, approached her as she stood alone. "Cecilia," he said.

Startled, Cecilia momentarily believed Nathaniel had returned. Hope flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by disappointment when she saw Calvin. He walked toward her. "Do you really not remember me?"

Cecilia gazed at him, struggling to place his face. "I'm Fatso," Calvin prompted gently. Memory returned. As a child in the countryside with Martha, she'd had a friend named Fatso. He'd been chubby and shorter then; now, he was tall and striking. "I remember now," she said. "You've changed so much."

Reuniting with an old friend in this strange place brought a faint, bittersweet smile to Cecilia's face—a bitterness Calvin noticed. "Come on, I'll take you home," he offered.

Dropping Cecilia off, Calvin was surprised to find her staying in a dilapidated motel. For someone from the prestigious Rainsworth family, even post-divorce, this seemed unthinkable. Cecilia felt uneasy. "Sorry for the trouble," she murmured. "I live here, but please don't tell Martha. It would worry her."

Calvin nodded, unsure how to comfort her. It was late; he couldn't stay. Promising to visit the next day, he left. As he drove away, he didn't notice the matte black Cadillac lurking in the shadows.

Cecilia's living situation was inconsequential. After Calvin left, the effects of the earlier drinks hit her—a churning stomach and spinning head. Nathaniel's cruel words echoed: "You look like a ghost! Who would even like a woman like you?" She removed her makeup, her pale skin flushed and swollen from his rough handling. Since her depression diagnosis, Cecilia had researched the condition, understanding its potential for brain damage, memory loss, cognitive dysfunction, and its tendency to amplify distress.

Knock, knock. Persistent knocking echoed. Thinking it was Calvin, she opened the door, only to have Nathaniel seize her wrist. His grip was painfully tight. "Cecilia! You've truly taken me by surprise!"

His voice was harsh as he closed the door and steered her to the couch. "So you've already chosen your next partner—no wonder you're so willing to let go!" His words were barbed. Seeing her with Calvin had ignited jealousy and misunderstanding. Cecilia couldn't understand why his first love held such sway, why nothing she did seemed to reach him. She met his furious gaze, her own eyes reddening. "We're just two of a kind," she whispered. The Smiths had deceived him in marriage; he'd treated her with indifference for three years while clinging to his first love. Neither was superior.

Nathaniel, reeking of alcohol, gripped her chin. His red-rimmed eyes narrowed. "Who was he? When did you two meet?"

Seeing him like this, Cecilia laughed. "Are you jealous?"

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed further. "Are you worthy of my jealousy?"

Cecilia fought back tears. Nathaniel leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "Did he have sex with you? Hmm?"

Three years of marriage, giving up her job to adhere to Rainsworth customs, turning down invitations—and now this doubt. An unexpected sense of relief washed over Cecilia. "What do you think?" she retorted.

Nathaniel's fury escalated; his hand moved lower. Cecilia's blood ran cold. She wanted to resist, but it was futile. Only when it was over did Nathaniel calm down.

Dawn broke. He looked at Cecilia, frail and thin, then at the crimson stain on the sheet. He couldn't define the feeling in his heart.

Smack! Cecilia slapped him. The slap shattered her illusions. She covered her ears, cutting him off. "Get out!"

Nathaniel left, dazed. Memories of the night flooded his mind. He called his assistant, Mason. "Find out who the men in Cecilia's life are," he ordered. Mason was perplexed. After her marriage, Cecilia's world had revolved around Mr. Rainsworth. Did she even know other men?

Back at the motel, Cecilia cleaned herself repeatedly. Their impending divorce had finally yielded the essence of marriage—laughable and tragic.

Around nine, Calvin arrived with breakfast, oblivious to Cecilia's demeanor. "I left in such a hurry last night, I forgot to mention we have a vacant house. You're welcome to stay there. It's not safe for a girl to stay in a motel."

Cecilia refused. She didn't want to owe anyone. Calvin anticipated this. "Either way, the place is vacant. You might as well move in—no rent."

"But I'll only need it for a month," she said.

"One month it is," Calvin agreed. He couldn't understand her limited timeframe.

She had only a single suitcase. In the car, they reminisced about childhood. Calvin shared his life—moving abroad after high school, working and studying, building his own company by twenty. He was wealthy.

Cecilia reflected on her life—marriage, homemaking. She gazed at Calvin with admiration. "You're truly impressive."

"You were capable too," Calvin said. "After you left the village, I kept track of you. I saw you on TV, winning the Youth's Piano Competition... You also sang. You were my idol."

He didn't mention his struggles—the initial hardship abroad, the self-destructive habits, until he saw the news about Cecilia, a hearing-impaired woman who had achieved so much. The music industry should have been closed to her, yet she'd succeeded.