Traded for Gratitude, I Chose Exile

On the day we move into the new apartment, my mother, Elizabeth Carter, sends a floor plan to the family group chat. It's a three-bedroom apartment, and a name is marked beside each bedroom. The master bedroom is for my parents, and the second bedroom is for my brother, Benjamin Sullivan. The room with the best sunlight is labeled "Savannah's Room". Savannah Keller's father, Liam Keller, drowned years ago while saving Benjamin, who had fallen into the water. After she becomes an orphan, my parents take her in and raise her as their own for ten years. I zoom in and out of the picture, scrolling through it twice. Still, I can't find my name anywhere. I ask Mom about it. She pauses, as if just remembering this detail. "You said you wanted to apply to a graduate school out of town, right? Once you get in, you'll move away. Leaving the room empty would be such a waste. Savannah's situation is different. "Her dad died for Benjamin. She has no other family in this world, so she must be given that big bedroom." Benjamin is already helping Savannah choose the curtains. They are pink floral ones, which she likes. Meanwhile, my boyfriend of three years, Wyatt Whitfield, carries the newly assembled bookshelf into Savannah's room. He quietly asks her if she wants an extra shelf for her figurines. I sit on a cardboard box in the living room, watching everyone bustle around. It dawns on me then—it's not that they have forgotten about me. Rather, deep down, they subconsciously believe that to repay that debt of gratitude, I should naturally give up everything that belongs to me. Even Wyatt has become an accessory to compensate Savannah. Since there's no place for me in this home, I decided to give it all up to them. I lower my head and tap on my phone. Then, I sign the confidentiality agreement to work at a base in the Northwest for five years, with no chance of coming home. This time, I'm really leaving, and I'm never coming back. Chapter 1 My fingers were still trembling as I signed the agreement, but no one in the living room noticed. Wyatt Whitfield, my boyfriend, emerged from Savannah Keller's room, a faint sweat glistening on his brow. He grabbed the water bottle from the coffee table and took a few quick gulps. "Wyatt," I called after him. "You've been at it all afternoon. Why don't you take a break?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze already drifting back toward Savannah's room. "In a bit," he said. "The curtain rod in Savannah's room is a little crooked. I want to fix it." He set the bottle down absentmindedly and disappeared back inside. He didn't even glance my way as he passed. In three whole years, Wyatt had never gone out of his way like that for me. The day I moved into my college dorm, I hauled five cardboard boxes up six flights of stairs all by myself. He said something came up at the last minute. But later, I saw on Savannah's Instagram that he'd taken her to an amusement park that day. My mother, Elizabeth Carter, poked her head out of the kitchen, her apron still untied. "Riley Sullivan, are you just going to sit there? Go help Savannah change her sheets. The new bedding set is in the bag by the door." I glanced at the corner of the hallway, where a few boxes of my things were stacked crookedly, blocking half the passage. No one had offered to help me move them or even asked where they were supposed to go. "Mom, which room should I put my things in?" I asked. Mom jerked her chin toward a narrow little door next to the balcony. "Clear out the storage room and make do for now. It's not like you haven't stayed there before. You slept there for a while when you were little, remember?" She was referring to the time when Savannah first came to live with us. That year, my brother, Benjamin Sullivan, had been playing by the river when he slipped and fell in. Mr. Liam Keller, Savannah's father, happened to be passing by. He immediately jumped in and lifted Benjamin onto the bank, but he himself was soon swept away by the undercurrent. It was Mom who had called Mr. Keller to come to the river to help keep an eye on us. She'd never been able to get past it. Thus, the day Savannah was brought back to our house, Mom held her and cried all afternoon, saying, "From now on, this is your home. No one will ever hurt you here." Then, she turned to me and said, "Savannah just lost her dad. Just let her have your room and squeeze in somewhere else for a few days." Those "few days" turned into an entire year. And now, the same thing was happening again. I carried my pillow and flimsy blanket into the storage room. It was under 40 square feet. Not only was it crammed with mops, buckets, and clutter, but a damp, musty smell hit me the moment I stepped in. There were no windows. Instead, there was just a bare lightbulb with an exposed filament buzzing overhead. A yoga mat spread across the concrete floor was supposed to be my bed. That evening, Mom ordered in a whole spread to celebrate the move. The coffee table was loaded with seafood boil, fried chicken, and mango cheesecake. Every single dish was Savannah's favorite. Benjamin piled chicken wings into Savannah's bowl, and Wyatt peeled shrimp for her. I quietly finished the potato salad on my own plate. No one noticed I hadn't touched any other food. After dinner, I got up and went into the kitchen. There, I took a pack of instant noodles from the cupboard and set a small pot of water to boil. Mom's voice followed me in. "What are you doing? Everyone's eating, and you're hiding in the kitchen?" "I'm just making some noodles." "There's a whole table of food, yet you'd rather cook for yourself? What's Savannah supposed to think? She'll blame herself!" I turned off the stove and dumped the noodles into the trash. In the living room, Savannah peered over with an uneasy look. "Riley, do you not like any of this? Next time, I'll ask Mrs. Sullivan to order the food you like." Benjamin waved a hand impatiently. "She can make a fuss out of anything. Just ignore her." Wyatt simply smiled and went back to peeling shrimp for Savannah. There was no malice in that smile, yet it stung more than any accusation could have. That was because he wasn't deliberately ignoring me. Rather, he genuinely felt like this had nothing to do with him. I went back to the storage room and closed the door. I was hungry, but there was nothing left to eat. I lay down on the yoga mat. My phone screen still showed the signed confidentiality agreement. It was all there in black and white—a five-year service term and no leaving the post without authorization. My mentor, Gideon Atwood, personally recommended this post to me. He said that given my thesis and data analysis skills, I was the only one in the entire research group suited for the position. However, I never mentioned it to anyone. After all, what would be the point? In this house, my major, my grades, and all the effort I'd ever put in—none of it was ever worth mentioning. The report date was August 15th. That was 23 days away. In 23 days, I would completely vanish from this house. It would probably be a long time before any of them noticed I was gone. Chapter 2 On the fourth day after moving in, I found out that even the storage room wouldn't be mine for long. At breakfast, Mom casually mentioned to my father, Edward Sullivan, "Once Riley's gone, I'm planning to knock down the storage room wall and expand Savannah's walk-in closet. "She has so many things—one wardrobe is hardly enough." Dad nodded, biting into his toast. "Sure, we'll have someone come take measurements." Savannah bit her spoon and said softly, "Mrs. Sullivan, you really don't have to. I don't have that many clothes." Benjamin laughed and ruffled her hair. "You might not have much now, but I'll take you shopping later." I sat across from them, eating my cereal in silence. No one had asked me whether I even wanted to go to grad school or move out. They just needed me gone. And once I was gone, they'd erase every last trace that I had ever been here. In the afternoon, Wyatt came over carrying two bags, a large and a small one. The large bag contained a professional set of markers—128 colors, in a leather case, with the price tag still partially attached. That set cost 120 dollars. He handed it to Savannah with both hands. "Benjamin mentioned you like to draw. This set has the full range of colors—give it a try." Savannah's eyes lit up. She clutched the case, beaming. Wyatt handed me the small bag. I opened it to find discounted caramel candy found at grocery stores. The yellow discount sticker with the price of two dollars was still on it. "I grabbed this for you on the way. You like sweets, right?" Wyatt said. I'd told him more than once that I didn't like sweets. In fact, I loved spicy food. In the winter, nothing hit the spot like a plate of spicy tacos, loaded with jalapenos. It had to be so spicy that it made beads of sweat form on my nose. However, he only remembered what Savannah liked. "Wyatt, I don't like sweets." He scratched his head and shrugged it off with a casual smile. "Give it to Savannah then. No point wasting it." I set the caramel candy down on the coffee table and went back to the storage room. As I closed the door, I heard Savannah quietly saying, "Wyatt, Riley seems kind of upset." Wyatt didn't respond. A couple of seconds later, there was the rustle of Savannah unwrapping the markers, and then his low murmur. "This color's nice." He couldn't even be bothered to talk about me behind my back anymore. Instead, he simply acted like I didn't exist and went right on laughing and chatting with Savannah. That stung colder than getting cursed out ever could. That evening, I came out of the storage room to get some water. As I passed my parents' bedroom, I noticed that the door was left slightly ajar. Dad's voice drifted out, tinged with slight hesitation. "Honey, does Riley seem a little off to you lately? She's barely said a word since we moved in." I stopped by the door, glass in hand, my heartbeat suddenly quickening. Mom's voice followed right on top of his. She brushed it aside, acting as if it were hardly worth mentioning. "What could possibly be wrong with her? She's been like this ever since she was little—it's just her personality. A total mute. Don't coddle her, or you'll only make it worse." Dad fell silent for a couple of seconds and said nothing more. I stood outside the door, holding the glass of water steady. Not a single drop spilled out. It wasn't that no one had noticed. They did, but they just didn't think it mattered. That night, while tidying up, I saw a purchase notification pop up on Savannah's tablet, which she'd left charging in the living room. It was an order from a furniture brand, totaling 18,000 dollars. The delivery address was our apartment, and the payment was under Mom's name. After I factored in the bedding set, the curtains, the mattress, and all the odds and ends, I calculated that Mom had spent over 20,00 dollars setting up Savannah's room. Meanwhile, my storage room didn't even have a folding bed. Savannah must have felt a little guilty. She dug through a shopping bag and pulled out a dress, handing it to me. "Riley, I saw this and thought it would look so pretty on you. I bought it with my own money." It was pink floral, the same style as the curtains in her room. It was her favorite color and her favorite pattern. Even though I never wore pink and my favorite color was blue, I still accepted it and said thank you. Because at least she still saw me, even if it wasn't the real me. When I was lying on my yoga mat that night, my phone lit up. It was the confirmation email from the Northwest Base. "Ms. Riley Sullivan, your check-in paperwork has been approved. Please arrive no later than August 15th. All communication devices will be collected upon arrival." Mr. Atwood had added a personal note. "The entire research team is waiting for you. Your data model is the core of this project. Don't worry, everything here has been arranged for you." I read that message three times. There were people who thought I mattered and were waiting for me. It was just that none of them lived in this apartment. Chapter 3 The tenth day after moving into the new apartment marked three years since Wyatt and I had been together. I confirmed the time with him two days in advance. He replied quickly, "Of course I remember. It's this Saturday afternoon." Saturday morning, I rummaged through my cardboard boxes to find the only cardigan that hadn't pilled. Then, I scrubbed the stains off my white shoes with wet wipes and spent half an hour in front of the tiny round mirror in the storage room putting on light makeup. I arrived at the restaurant we'd agreed on. After taking a seat by the window, I ordered a long black and Wyatt's favorite iced latte. The ice melted, so I had them top it up. But those melted too. For two and a half hours, I couldn't get through to his phone, and he didn't reply to any of my messages either. At 6:00 pm, he finally texted me on WhatsApp. "I'm really sorry. Savannah suddenly wanted to go to the riverbank Mr. Keller used to frequent. She was really down, and I was worried something might happen if she went alone, so I went with her. Can I make it up to you another day?" A photo followed that message. In it, Savannah stood by the railing at the riverbank, her head hung low. Wyatt stood behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder. The setting sun stretched their shadows long across the ground, overlapping. Anyone who saw this picture, without knowing the backstory, would think they were a couple. I stared at the photo for three full minutes, then downed the cold long black in one go. The bitterness coated my tongue, dry and astringent. I paid the bill for two and headed home alone. The next morning, Wyatt showed up. In his hands was a bouquet of red roses, the wrapping extremely exquisite. I could even catch the scent of the florist's perfume still on it. My heart skipped a beat. However, he walked straight down the hallway and pushed open the door to Savannah's room. "Savannah, you had it rough yesterday, didn't you? These flowers are for you. I wish you happiness every single day." Savannah's voice, hoarse from crying, drifted out of the room. "Thank you, Wyatt." I braced myself against the wall, my nails slowly digging into my palms. "Wyatt." He turned around. When he saw me standing in the hallway, he froze for a second. Then, his face flickered with the guilt of someone caught red-handed. "It was our third anniversary yesterday," I said. He smacked his forehead and put on an exaggerated look of regret. "Right, right. I knew I was forgetting something. I'll make it up to you another day, I promise." "But you remembered to buy Savannah's flowers." "I just happened to pass by a florist, and it's not like they cost much." "In three years of dating, you've never once bought me flowers." The air went still. The apologetic look on Wyatt's face slowly gave way to that impatient look I knew all too well. "Can you stop being so petty? Savannah spent the whole afternoon at the riverbank crying over Mr. Keller yesterday. What's the big deal about me buying her flowers to cheer her up? You're her sister—can't you be a little more gracious?" Benjamin came out at the sound of the commotion and instinctively took Wyatt's side. "Riley, that's enough. Mr. Keller gave his life saving me, so isn't it only natural that the whole family gives Savannah a little extra love? What are you even competing with her for?" I wasn't competing with Savannah. I just wanted to ask Wyatt what I even meant to him. However, no one seemed to think that question was worth answering. I shut my mouth. Then, I turned around and walked into the storage room, locking the door behind me. I sat down on the floor and pulled up the name I'd saved in my phone for three years. Next to Wyatt's name was a little sun emoji, which I proceeded to delete. After a moment's thought, I cleared the contact name too. He wasn't my sun anymore. In fact, he couldn't even be bothered to pay me any attention. At dinner, Savannah secretly slipped a piece of grilled rib onto my plate. "Riley, don't be mad. Wyatt didn't mean it." I looked into her sincere eyes and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. She had unknowingly taken everything that was supposed to be mine, then handed back a few crumbs—and everyone thought that made her generous beyond reproach. And the worst part was, she had no idea what she was doing. Late that night, I got up from the yoga mat and opened my banking app. I had 5,000 dollars in my current balance. Since my first year of college, I'd been tutoring, handing out flyers, working night shifts at a coffee shop—saving up bit by bit for over three years. It was enough for a flight ticket to the Northwest. Once I got to the base, I'd take it from there and save up slowly. I tucked the bank card close to my body and lay back down. The bare filament bulb buzzed faintly overhead. There was nothing in this storage room, but at least it was quiet. Chapter 4 The final straw that broke me was what I saw on Benjamin's phone. That afternoon, he'd left it on the couch while he took a shower, and the screen lit up with a group chat notification. The group was called "Savannah's Family". It was a group of five—Dad, Mom, Benjamin, Wyatt, and Savannah. My parents, my brother, and my boyfriend of three years had made a family group chat with someone who wasn't even related to them. And I was the only one not in it. I couldn't stop myself from tapping into the chat. It had been created the day we moved in, and the chat history was long. Mom had posted a photo of Savannah's room with the caption, "Savannah, you finally have your own room." Benjamin had replied with a string of fireworks emojis. "Anyone who messes with you will have to answer to me first." I scrolled up. Mom had sent a voice message, her tone warm and tinged with a smile. "Wyatt, you take better care of Savannah than you do of Riley. She's had a tough life. I feel relieved knowing that you'll always be there to take care of her." "Don't worry, Mrs. Sullivan. I'll always take care of Savannah," Wyatt had replied. "Dude, you have my respect," Benjamin had chimed in. Then, I saw Savannah and Wyatt's private chat, pinned by the latter right above the group messages. "Wyatt, won't Riley be upset?" Savannah had asked. "No, she doesn't know about this group." "That's good. I don't want Riley to feel bad." She'd added a happy bouncing emoji after that. She didn't want me to feel bad, yet once she'd confirmed I didn't know, she was relieved—happy, even. I placed the phone back on the couch. My fingers were ice-cold, as if I'd just finished reading a verdict that had nothing to do with me. The trial had long been over, yet the accused was the last to know the outcome. Benjamin came out of the shower, his expression darkening. "Did you go through my phone?" "Why am I not in 'Savannah's Family'?" I asked in a trembling voice. The living room went silent in an instant. Mom stepped out of the kitchen, Dad lowered his newspaper, and Savannah peeked halfway out of her room. Benjamin snatched his phone back. "That's a group for us to discuss how to take care of Savannah. What does it have to do with you?" "Wyatt is my boyfriend!" I was practically screaming. "Mom, you told him to always take care of Savannah—are you trying to give him to her too?" Mom's face hardened. "What are you yelling about? Her father gave his life for Benjamin! As the big sister, can't you be a little more understanding?" Wyatt had just walked in, and the first thing he did was distance himself. "Riley, you're reading too much into this. I'm just looking out for Savannah as a friend, that's all." "Then why did you stand me up on our anniversary to be with her? Why does she get a 120-dollar gift, while I got 2-dollar discounted candy?" Wyatt lost his patience. "Given how upset she was that day, I couldn't very well just leave her alone. God, can you just drop it already?" Savannah started crying. "Riley, I'm sorry. It's all my fault." Benjamin suddenly charged up to me, jabbing his finger in my face. "Riley, are you done? Mr. Keller lost his life saving me! That means I owe Savannah for the rest of my life. If you're not willing to help me repay that debt, then you can get the hell out!" My own brother was telling me to get out of our home, and not a single person present said a word against it. Dad rubbed his temples and muttered, "Alright, that's enough. Everyone, calm down." He didn't say Benjamin was wrong in the wrong, nor did he ask me to stay. I stood in the middle of the living room like a criminal awaiting sentencing. And what was my crime? Not being selfless enough. Without another word, I turned and walked into the storage room, locking the door behind me. Outside the door, Mom was soothing Savannah, Benjamin was comforting her, and Wyatt was backing them up. Order was quickly restored, as if the argument that had just happened was nothing more than an ad one could skip. … In the days that followed, the apartment somehow grew livelier. Mom threw Savannah an early birthday celebration. She ordered a three-tier strawberry cake. Benjamin bought balloons and fairy lights and spent the whole evening on the living room floor blowing them up. Wyatt came over for dinner every day. Afterward, he'd paint with Savannah on the balcony, their laughter carrying all the way down the hallway. No one was deliberately shutting me out. It was just that in the midst of all their bustling togetherness, I had never existed to begin with. I began clearing out the storage room late at night. I stuffed textbooks, old clothes, diaries—as well as a canvas tote bag and expired biscuits Wyatt gave me—into a trash bag. Then, I snuck it into the building's dumpster. After all this time, everything fit into a single trash bag. I washed and folded the pink floral dress Savannah had given me and left it neatly outside her door. On August 14th, at 4:00 am, before the sky had even begun to lighten, I rolled up my yoga mat and leaned it against the wall. Then, I put the mop bucket back where it belonged. The storage room was spotless, as if no one had ever lived there. All I had with me was a single backpack. Inside were a change of clothes, my ID, and the base assignment letter. I moved quietly down the hallway. The sweet scent of strawberry candles drifted from Savannah's room, and the sound of a fan whirred in Benjamin's. From the master bedroom came the even rumble of snoring. Everyone was sleeping soundly. This family didn't need me. I opened the security door and got into a taxi. Then, I took out my phone and deleted every WhatsApp contact one by one. Once I reached the base, I would need to hand in my phone. I'd be gone for five years, across mountains and far waters, with no need to look back. … At 7:30 am, Mom got up to make breakfast. "Savannah, do you want hard-boiled eggs or sunny-side up? Benjamin, stop lazing around in bed!" She walked over to the storage room and pushed the door open out of habit. The room was empty, except for a rolled-up yoga mat leaning against the corner. Mom called my number, only to find my phone was switched off. She sent me a WhatsApp message, but my profile picture had gone gray. "Edward!" Her voice cracked. "Riley's gone! So are all her things!" Benjamin rushed out barefoot. He called over a dozen times, but every single time, all he got was that cold, automated message. Wyatt rushed over and stood frozen at the doorway to the storage room. Just then, Dad's phone rang. It was an unknown number. "Hello, am I speaking to Edward Sullivan? My name is Colton Bennett. I used to work with Liam Keller. I was going through his belongings recently and found some things from back then. There are some details about the day Benjamin fell into the river that I think you should know."