Chapter 9 #2
One of the bodyguards stood near the entrance, watching us silently. “You,” I said, pointing at him. “Can you drive?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
Kai swore under his breath. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“You’re not going anywhere alone.”
“Good. I’ve got him.”
Kai stepped forward, his expression tightening. “June, stop. You’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m thinking perfectly fine,” I snapped.
That was the problem. Everyone thought I wasn’t fine. They looked at me like I might break, like exhaustion and fear had somehow made me incapable of making decisions for myself.
I wasn’t breaking. I was done waiting.
I walked out before Kai could say anything else, moving faster than I probably should have. I didn’t care whether the bodyguard had the keys or if there was even a car waiting. I just needed air. Space. Anything to get me out of that apartment that smelled like him.
By the time we reached the parking level, a car was already waiting. Of course it was. People like Kai never waited for things; things waited for him. The door opened before I even reached it, and I slid into the back seat.
“Where do you want to go?” the driver asked.
“Just drive.”
The car pulled into the street, and the city began sliding past the window, lights streaking across the glass while buildings passed too quickly for me to recognize.
My head felt light again, not exactly dizzy, just empty, as though my brain wasn’t catching up with my body.
I hadn’t eaten properly in days, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to.
After a few minutes, I spotted a convenience store on the corner, its bright lights glowing against the grey afternoon.
“Here,” I said. “Stop here. Wait for me.”
“Cannot park here,” the driver said.
“Stop anyway.”
He hesitated, but I opened the door before the car had fully stopped and stepped out while it was still rolling.
Stupid. Dangerous. I didn’t care.
Inside the store, cold air hit my face. I grabbed a basket and forced myself to focus.
Food. Just grab food. That was what normal people did.
I walked past the shelves, throwing things into the basket without really looking: energy bars, instant noodles, packaged sandwiches, things I probably wouldn’t even eat.
I used to tell my patients to take care of themselves. Eat properly. Sleep properly. Exercise. I had said those things so many times that they had become automatic, as if life were actually that simple. As if everything didn’t change the second a baby showed up.
I almost laughed.
Maru cried all night. Every night. Nothing worked—milk, toys, rocking, singing. Sometimes I just stared at her, wondering what she wanted from me. I wished babies came with subtitles. An AI translator for crying that could tell me what I was doing wrong.
The thought made me freeze.
I loved her. I did. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t be exhausted or scared that you had ruined your life.
Dannie was sick. Everything around me was falling apart. And somehow, I was supposed to be strong enough to hold it all together.
My grip tightened around the basket as I kept walking. It suddenly felt heavier than it should have. When I looked down, it was full, though I couldn’t remember putting half of it inside.
This wasn’t supposed to feel heavy. But my body felt weak. Too weak.
The floor seemed to tilt beneath me, and I grabbed the shelf before I lost my balance. For a second, I couldn’t tell whether the world had moved or I had.
I forced myself toward the till. Only three people were ahead of me, but the queue felt endless. While I waited, I kept reaching for things from the nearby shelves.
Chocolate bars. Caramel wafers. Peanut butter cups. Butter cookies. Instant milk tea. Gummy candy. Sweetened coffee. Two bags of chips I didn’t even like.
Unnecessary. Unhealthy.
Comfort food.
I wasn’t even sure I would eat any of it, but I needed them anyway. Right now, I needed something—anything—that made me feel like I still had some control over what happened next.
Then I noticed them.
Two men were wearing sunglasses indoors. One had a baseball cap pulled low, the brim shadowing half his face, while the other stood near the drinks fridge, pretending to browse. They were positioned almost opposite each other. Not together, exactly, but not separate either.
Something about them felt wrong. Too still. Too aware.
Every few seconds, their eyes flicked toward me.
One of them slowly moved down the aisle, pretending to check the shelves while keeping me in sight. My fingers tightened around the basket, and then someone tapped my shoulder, making me jump.
“It’s your turn,” the cashier said.
I forced myself forward. For a second, I considered abandoning the basket and walking out, but the snacks suddenly felt too important. Ridiculous, but the need for them was real. I set the basket down and tried to focus on the cashier. Then she spoke to me in Cantonese.
“Sorry… I don’t speak Cantonese.”
She pointed toward the fabric recycling bags beside the register.
I nodded. “Yes. That’s fine.”
I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted her to hurry.
She scanned the items one by one, each beep sounding too loud and too slow. I glanced over my shoulder.
Both men were gone. That somehow made everything worse.
I tapped my phone against the payment machine. Approved. Done.
Then someone touched my back, and I jumped so hard my heart slammed into my throat.
“You dropped something,” the woman behind me said.
I turned and saw my hair tie lying on the floor. I bent down to pick it up, and that was when I saw him again.
The man with the baseball cap was standing near the end of the aisle, watching me. He wasn’t pretending anymore. He had stopped hiding behind the shelves, and now he was walking toward me with quick, purposeful steps.
My stomach dropped.
I straightened, my shopping bag still half-open in my hand, just as he cut straight through the line, ignoring the complaints around him.
I barely had time to step back before he grabbed my wrist. His grip was hard enough to hurt, and before I could react, something cold pressed against my back.
“Don’t move,” he said quietly.
My entire body froze.
For a second, nobody seemed to understand what was happening. Then he raised the gun—not at me, but into the air—and the whole store went silent before exploding into chaos. Someone screamed. Someone dropped something. A child started crying.
I didn’t think. I swung the shopping bag straight into his face.
Glass shattered inside the bag as liquid splashed everywhere. He cursed and loosened his grip for half a second, and that was all I needed. I tore myself free and ran straight for the door.
I almost made it.
Hands grabbed me from both sides before I could reach the exit, one arm locking around my neck while another hooked around my waist. I kicked and twisted and screamed, fighting as hard as I could, but my body felt weak and slow, like it belonged to someone else.
The door burst open as they dragged me outside, and cold air hit my face. Before I could get my bearings, they shoved me into the back of a car.
The door slammed shut. The car started moving.