Please Forget Me When The Storm Ends

It was the seventh year that I spent with Tristan Zabel. His junior from school, Cassandra White, cried over a breakup for the twelfth time in the middle of the night. He got anxious and put on his jacket to leave. “Jimelle, Cass’ supervisor is giving her a hard time, and she just got played by some douchebag. If I don’t go, she’s going to spiral, and something bad could happen to her.” In the past, I would turn hysterical, call her a fake, and block the door to keep him from leaving. But this time, I endured the cramps from my acute gastritis and calmly nodded. “Poor Cass. You should go be with her. Stay a few days if you need to.” Just then, Cassandra’s tearful voice came through his phone. “Tristan, I’m so scared! When are you coming?” He was stunned when he noticed the cold sweat on my forehead. “You look pale. I can stay tonight if you’re not feeling well—” “It’s fine. I’ll take some medicine and sleep it off.” I cut him off, pressed the car keys into his hand and said, “Go. Don’t keep her waiting.” He had no idea I was keeping score. It was strike twelve, and he had just run out of chances. Tomorrow, I would get on a plane and fly to the overseas headquarters with a visa in hand. By the time he realized I was gone, it would be too late for him to find me again. Chapter 1 Jimelle's POV The door slammed shut, and my boyfriend, Tristan Zabel’s footsteps quickly faded down the hallway. I clutched my cramping stomach and slowly crouched beside the shoe rack beside the door. My forehead was beaded in cold sweat as I fumbled around for two painkillers and swallowed them. It did not help. My stomach convulsed in pain. Gritting my teeth, I put on my shoes and called a ride to the ER. The nurse took my blood pressure and then sent me to the infusion room. Once they got the IV in, I leaned back and closed my eyes. Just then, I heard hurried footsteps. A man shouted, “Doctor, please hurry! She’s bleeding!” That voice was all too familiar. I slowly opened my eyes and looked through the gap in the glass divider between the infusion bays. There was Tristan, with his arm around Cassandra White, holding her up as he burst into the emergency room. Cassandra leaned against him. There was a tiny scrape on her calf that was barely bleeding. “Tristan, it hurts so bad! Am I going to die?” Cassandra asked in a quivering voice as she teared up. He reached out and wiped the tears from the corner of her eye. “Don’t say that! It’s just a scratch. You’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere.” He took off his jacket and carefully draped it over her shoulders. My chest tightened for a moment, but the feeling quickly faded. Two hours earlier, he had seen me drenched in cold sweat and had asked why I looked so pale. Cassandra had only scraped a little skin, but he acted as if it was a catastrophe. After tending to her wound, Tristan helped her onto the hallway bench. They were sitting diagonally from me on the other side of a frosted glass divider. Cassandra fiddled with something in her hand. It was my car key. It was a handmade leather keychain attached to the keys. I had spent a month stitching it together and had engraved our initials, J&T, on it. Tristan had once said this keychain was my special thing, and that nobody else could touch it. But Cassandra was carelessly picking at the engraved letters. Cassandra said with a pout, “Tristan, this keychain is so ugly! The leather’s all worn and peeling.” Tristan glanced at it and said, “Yeah, it’s pretty worn out. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it off tomorrow. I’ll get a Stellalou one. You like that one, don’t you?” “Really? Thanks, Tristan! You’re always so good to me.” Cassandra leaned into him. Tristan tensed up, then adjusted himself to block the breeze. That made the thirteenth strike. I pulled out my phone, opened the camera, and calmly recorded the scene. After saving the video, I opened the chat with Albert Lance. He was the HR representative from the overseas headquarters. [Mr. Lance, my visa is all set. My flight leaves at 4 p.m. I’ll be at headquarters the day after.] Albert promptly replied, [Great! Looking forward to having you, Jimelle. Have you wrapped up all your resignation procedures there?] [I’m finishing up the final handover tomorrow morning. There won’t be any loose ends.] After I sent the texts, I locked my phone screen. The IV fluid had just run out, and the nurse came over to remove the needle. I pressed the cotton swab against my hand, stood up, and left the emergency hall through the other exit. The night breeze was chilly. I pulled my thin jacket tighter and did not look back at Tristan and Cassandra. I crossed out the last strike on my countdown. ‘Tristan, you’re almost out of time,’ I thought. Chapter 2 The next morning, I returned to the apartment I shared with Tristan. When I pushed open the door, I could smell the faint scent of his cologne from the night before. It was the scent Cassandra loved the most. Without missing a beat, I walked straight into the bedroom and pulled out a black suitcase from under the bed. There was not much I needed to take. I only needed a few pieces of clothing, my identification documents, and a reference book for work. Just as I finished folding the last shirt and placed it into the suitcase, the front door beeped. Someone had just entered the house. Tristan walked in with Cassandra. When he saw me standing in the bedroom, his expression faltered for a moment. “Jimelle, how’s your stomach?” He came over and tried to reach out to feel my forehead. I stepped aside and avoided his hand. “Much better now,” I said calmly. He turned to look at Cassandra and said, “Cass had a bad scare last night, and I didn’t feel right leaving her alone in her dorm. Her doctor says she’s emotionally unstable right now.” Tristan paused, then continued, “Let her crash here for a few days. The guest room is free anyway.” Cassandra timidly poked her head out from behind him and looked at me. “Jimelle, I’m so sorry to intrude. But I’m really terrified. Every time I close my eyes, I see horrible images.” As she spoke, she shook the car keys in her hand. The keychain engraved with J&T had already been removed. In its place was a brand-new Stellalou keychain. He had removed the leather keychain I had stayed up three whole nights to make. He had not even hesitated. ’Where’s my keychain?” I looked at her hand and asked calmly. She hid behind Tristan and said, “I’m so sorry, Jimelle. That keychain was just so old, and I accidentally broke it. Tristan said it wasn’t a big deal anyway, so he swapped it out for a new one.” Tristan frowned. “Jimelle, it’s just a cheap little trinket. Are you really going to make this into a thing? Cass is going through a lot right now. Can’t you cut her some slack?” I looked at him. I found it amusing. In the past, he would get worried if I so much as furrowed my brow. But at this moment, he dared to ask me to cut another woman some slack. “Fine.” I nodded. Tristan let out a breath of relief and smiled. “I knew you’d be the bigger person. Oh, by the way, the guest room doesn’t get much sun, and Cass needs it.” He pointed at the master bedroom. “You can take the guest room for a few days. Let Cass have that room. You’re always busy with work, anyway. You crash as soon as you get home, so it doesn’t matter where you sleep.” I looked at him, then said, “Okay.” I zipped my suitcase and pushed it into the corner. Tristan paused for a moment, then said, “Don’t worry. Once Cass is more stable, I’ll take her back to the dorm. Oh, and I’m craving your meatloaf tonight. I’ll leave work early and return to make it with you—” “No need.” I cut him off. “I’m not eating at home tonight.” I ignored his shocked face, grabbed my bag, and walked straight out the door. I glanced at my watch. It was 9:30 a.m. There were still six and a half hours until my 4 p.m. flight. It was time to go to the office and finalize the handover of my work. I arrived at the company on time for my final handover at 10 a.m. Tristan had told Cassandra confidently that I would never land that overseas executive spot and that I would never leave him. What he did not know was that the regional director’s transfer order from headquarters had been sitting in my inbox for three days already. Just as I was doing the handover, Tristan barged in with the director, Robert Smith, and Cassandra, who had clearly been crying. He stopped right at my desk. Chapter 3 “Jimelle, where are we on Project Genesis?” The director, Robert, coughed lightly. I had a good guess what was happening. “The final contract will be signed this afternoon—” Tristan cut me off and towered over me. “Add Cassandra’s name to the contract as co-lead. She’ll handle the follow-up on the remaining payments from here on out.” Cassandra tugged at his sleeve and sobbed. “Tristan, forget it. My depression keeps acting up. I don’t have the energy. I don’t deserve to take credit for Jimelle’s work anyway…” “Nonsense!” Tristan shot me a glare and said, “Jimelle, this project is Cass’ only shot at getting confirmed! You’re about to be the salesperson of the year anyway. Would it kill you to let her share a little of the credit?!” Robert looked uneasy. “Tristan, Project Genesis has great margins, but the client is a nightmare. As per our risk control policy, any co-lead is also on the hook for shared KPI liability. Cass just got here.” Tristan said, “I’ve reviewed the first three quarters’ numbers. Cash flow is looking good. What risk are we even talking about? “Robert, don’t make excuses for her. Jimelle already did all the grunt work upfront. Now, it’s just a victory lap. How could Cass possibly mess up wrapping things up at the end?” Watching his smug face as he practically handed the golden opportunity to Cassandra, I sighed and slid the document across the desk toward him. “Fine. Since you’re so confident, Mr. Zabel, I’ll step aside and hand this one off. This is the official transfer of responsibilities. As of today, Cassandra owns all ongoing work and KPI exposure on Project Genesis. I’m withdrawing from this project.” Tristan was stunned for a moment when he saw me agree so readily. He sneered, pulled out his fountain pen, and signed his name in the approval section as the overseeing vice president. “Good call! I’ll clear it with risk management. I’ve got Cass’ numbers covered. If anything happens, I’ll put my own job on the line and take the fall.” I smirked as I saw his bold signature. He had no idea that Project Genesis, which looked like a great deal, was only being held up by my personal connections and a high-stakes performance clause I had in place. It was a ticking time bomb. Once I walked away, it was going to blow up in their faces. Whoever took over would spend next month getting hounded by the client and get stuck with a pile of uncollectible debt. They would become a total joke across the industry. Cassandra barely suppressed her smugness and thanked me. I stood up and left my work badge and access card on the desk. “Mr. Lance will handle the rest of the paperwork. Enjoy working together.” Tristan frowned and grabbed my wrist. “You’re not even taking your badge? You’re acting weird today.” I glanced at the old watch on his wrist that I had given him, then I pried his fingers off me. “Get that thing sanitized. I’ve got plans this afternoon. Don’t bother waiting up tonight.” As the elevator doors closed, I watched Cassandra clinging to his arms and pointing at that contract with a beaming smile. ‘Smile all you want. This will be the last time you two take anything from me,’ I thought. At noon, I took the spare key and drove the car Tristan usually used straight to a used car dealership. I sat in the cafe across the street and called the dealership owner, Leo Wade. “Leo, I brought the car. The pink slip’s in the glove box. I’ll sign a limited power of attorney. Get someone to take it for now and rush the paperwork. Just sell it outright. Sixty percent of book value.” Half an hour later, after deducting the expedited service fee, the advance payment was transferred to the offshore virtual account I had prepared in advance. I tossed him the keys, turned, and walked into the designer boutique next door. I sold every bag Tristan had ever given me as “makeup gifts.” I had spent a month erasing every trace of myself from this city. As for the few thousand dollars left in my domestic bank account, I left it there for him to deal with the mess he had created. Chapter 4 At 2 p.m., it started raining heavily. I stood by the roadside with my suitcase and waited for a cab to the airport. I had two hours left until my flight. A cab with its light on pulled over to the curb and splashed water everywhere. Tristan got out of it. Without an umbrella in hand, he rushed into the rain and snatched my suitcase before dragging me to the cab. “Cass called and said she’s going to cut herself! If you hadn’t given her an attitude all morning, she wouldn’t have gotten triggered. You have to come to the hospital with me and apologize to her!” I stumbled as he pulled me, and my stomach began to cramp again. “Let go of me! I already handed over the project. What more do you want from me?” “But you didn’t give it to her willingly!” he shouted. “If anything happens to Cass because of you, I’ll never forgive you!” He shoved me in the back seat of the car. I clung to the door frame and said, “I’m going to the airport! I don’t have time for your little games!” “What airport?” He lunged forward with force and shoved me hard. My foot slipped, and I lost my balance. My forehead slammed against the stone sidewalk, and I instantly felt a sharp pain shoot through my body. Fresh blood streamed down my brow and into my eyes, turning my vision red. I curled up in the rain. I was too hurt to even make a sound. The rain was too heavy. He did not see my blood clearly. He looked at me coldly and said, “Are you seriously going to lie on the ground and play victim right now? If you won’t come, then stay here and think about what you did. Sir, head to the City General Hospital.” Tristan left me there as the engine roared and the cab accelerated into the heavy rain. Muddy water splashed from the road and left me drenched from head to toe. I lay in the cold rainwater and watched the car disappear into the distance. He did not turn back even once. This was the last time he would hurt me. I got up, wiped the blood off, and called a private cab to take me straight to the airport. In the car, I pressed a tissue against my forehead. The bleeding stopped, but it left a deep gash. After I passed through security, I took out the SIM card I had used for seven years, broke it in half, and threw it into the trash bin. When it was time to board, I stood up and walked toward the gate without looking back. … Meanwhile, at the First City Hospital, Tristan rubbed the space between his eyebrows as he looked at Cassandra. She was lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to an IV of saline solution to “calm her down.” Her wrist was covered in an unnecessarily thick layer of gauze. He had seen the ER doctor’s examination firsthand. There was only a tiny red mark from an eyebrow razor, and it had not bled at all. The ER doctor could not even find a reason to stitch it. He gave in to her whining and prescribed a bag of glucose before admitting her for observation. Tristan checked his phone and noticed I had not even texted. Usually, if he was late, I would always text to check in on him. Today, even after he had pushed me down in the rain, I did not send him a single text to confront him. “She’s probably still sulking,” he murmured and scoffed. He then dialed my number. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service,” said a cold, robotic female voice. Tristan froze. I had used that number for seven years. He dialed again. The call still could not get through. He started to panic. He left Cassandra and drove straight back to the apartment. When he arrived and pushed open the door, it was pitch black inside. “Jimelle?” No one answered. He turned on the light. His heart sank when he saw what was before him. My shoes were not on the shoe rack. My mug was not on the coffee table. He rushed into the bedroom like a madman and yanked open the closet. More than half of it was empty. Not a single piece of my clothing remained. My toiletries in the bathroom were completely gone as well. Tristan stumbled into the study. On the desk lay a neatly placed quitclaim deed, with “Jimelle” already signed at the bottom with a glaring signature. Next to it, a lawyer’s business card was attached with a paperclip, along with a note. [My lawyer will handle all transfer documents from here. Keep the half of the down payment I put into this place. Consider it a farewell gift. It makes me sick to even think about it. I’m walking away with nothing. Clean break. No strings attached.] Beside the agreement lay the cheap silver necklace box with another note. [I already threw out the trash. These things reek of garbage for me now. I’m giving them back to you too.] Tristan’s blood ran cold, and he collapsed into a chair. He recalled the scene in the rain when I had curled up and clutched my forehead after he pushed me to the ground. That was when it hit him. Blood had been seeping through my fingers. I had been bleeding. I had planned everything down to the last detail. I left him without the tiniest hesitation. “Jimelle…” he called out pitifully. He grabbed his car keys and dashed out of the house like a madman, plunging into the torrential rain outside.