Spring Came When I Left

I ran into Randall again ten years after our divorce.
I was enrolling our son in his new school.
He was there to donate a new building for his daughter.
I offered him a polite smile. He looked flustered.
We ended up making small talk, the usual awkward pleasantries. As we parted ways, his eyes were glued to the acceptance letter in my hand. He looked like he wanted to say something more.
Finally, he couldn't hold it in. "Our son he seems to be doing well with you."
Doing well?
I just smiled, not offering a real answer.
Yes, he was doing well. After I stopped loving Randall, our son and I we were both doing very well.

01
Randall caught up to me at the school gate. "Where are you living now? I can give you a ride."
I took a few steps back, putting some distance between us. "No, thank you. I drove myself."
Randall looked stunned, a little lost. "Since when do you drive?"
I smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as the wind blew it across my face. I just shook my head gently.
Randall's memory of me was frozen ten years in the past. But I had moved on, traveled so far from the woman he remembered.
On the drive home, a car shadowed mine the entire way. I knew who it was, but I didn't let it bother me. It was only when I stopped at a red light that the thought truly hit me.
Ten years.
I used to imagine that seeing Randall again would break me, that all the old pain and hysteria would come rushing back and I'd fall apart.
But there was nothing.
I was as calm as if I'd run into a complete stranger, a footnote in the story of my life. Even with him following right behind me, my heart remained perfectly still, not a single ripple disturbing its surface.
I locked my car and took the elevator straight up to my apartment. Randall didn't follow, but I knew he wouldn't leave. It was just like all those nights we used to fight; he would rather sleep on a park bench all night than be far from me, waiting for me to be moved by his gesture.
Sure enough, after I'd washed up and pulled back the curtains, I saw the tell-tale glow of a cigarette ember in the darkness below.
Randall stood with his head bowed, the ground around his feet littered with countless cigarette butts. He looked up. I looked down. Just like we had a thousand times before. But we both knew there was no going back.
"Mom, what are you looking at?" my son asked, emerging from his room in his pajamas.
I quickly drew the curtains shut and smiled. "Nothing."
Just an irrelevant person from the past.

02
I thought I would be able to sleep.
But I couldn't.
Tossing and turning, memories flooded back like a relentless tide.
When I first met Randall, he wasn't the CEO he was today. He was the handsome, broke scholar, juggling three part-time jobs a day. He had an alcoholic father, a gambling-addicted mother, and a grandfather who had raised him but was now gravely ill.
People at school were always circling him, drawn to that face of his. It was too striking. The boys were jealous, the girls were obsessed. I wasn't the first person to offer him help, but I was the only one who stuck around until the end.
"I like you," I'd told him. "You don't have to give me anything in return for what I'm doing. Just don't push me away."
I held out my debit card. It contained my entire life's savings. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to cover his grandfather's hospital bills.
Young love is foolish and pure. At that moment, I truly just wanted to help him. Even if it was all a scam, I didn't care.
Randall took the card. He looked at me, his eyes serious. "Thank you."
But his grandfather still died.
I went to the funeral to help, ignoring my family's objections. I watched Randall's father beat him, watched his mother scream at him, all because his grandfather had left him the family's only house.
When his father raised a beer bottle to smash it over Randall's head, I ran in front of him.
It didn't hurt. Because the bottle never landed.
I stood in front of Randall, and he had raised his arm to shield my head.
Blood streamed down his arm, splattering my face in red. I cried as I called the police, then grabbed Randall's hand and ran.
"Don't go back, Randall," I pleaded. "From now on, I'll take care of you."
I don't know where I found the courage. A college student still living on an allowance, making such a bold declaration.
But Randall believed me. Maybe the sight of my snot and tears streaming down my face had shocked him. He held me, patting my back comfortingly. "Okay, okay, I believe you."
By the river, the reeds swayed in the wind. Randall looked up, and for the first time, he gave me a smile more beautiful than any rainbow.
"Chloe," he said, "I'll take care of you for the rest of my life."

03
In college, my single allowance supported the two of us.
Randall was brilliant, and he worked incredibly hard. He was always working part-time jobs, and after graduation, he used my graduation award money to make an investment that paid off tenfold.
That was his first real win. He dragged me to a jewelry store that same day and bought me a gold necklace.
I was ecstatic, but he was wracked with guilt. He promised he would work even harder, that one day he'd buy me a much bigger, thicker gold chain.
I just smiled happily and told him to keep going. The size didn't matter; as long as it was from him, I would love it.
But Randall took it as his motivation. He worked himself to the bone, buying stacks of finance books and teaching himself the trade. He was decisive, bold, never one to play it safe. In just a year, his initial capital had grown dozens of times over. He found his niche and started making a fortune.
He became known as the man with the Midas touch. Every project he invested in turned to gold. The parents who had abandoned him came crawling back after seeing his name in the financial papers, demanding he support them. But he took them to court, declaring that parents who don't raise their children don't deserve the title. He publicly disowned them in the papers.
That night, he knelt before me, holding a massive diamond ring.
"Chloe, marry me," he said. "Let me take care of you for the rest of my life."
I nodded, tears in my eyes, believing I was stepping into a life of pure happiness. I never imagined that the more perfect something seems, the more likely it is to be flawed. Especially the human heart. It's the one thing you can never truly give away.

04
After we got married, I was truly happy.
Randall had promised to take care of me for the rest of my life, and he did. I stopped working. He gave me his entire salary, and I controlled all our savings.
When I got pregnant, he treated me like a precious jewel. He followed me everywhere. In the winter, when my feet were cold, he would wash them himself. When I got leg cramps in the middle of the night, he would groggily get up to massage them. My mom always teased that I was being treated like a queen.
"Why a queen?" I asked her.
"He waits on you hand and foot, like you're his ancestor!" she'd laughed.
And why not a queen? Perhaps that's why, when he cheated, I fell apart so completely. Because I knew, in that moment, that he was never coming back.
I was his queen, his ancestor to be worshipped. But with someone else, he was the one being worshipped.

05
Isabelle was not a remarkable-looking girl.
She wasn't as pretty as me, not as educated. But she understood Randall's heart. Perhaps every man dreams of being a hero. In Randall's darkest days, I had been his. So with me, he was always accommodating, always yielding.
When he played basketball, I complained about the smell of sweat and made him shower before talking to me. When he watched anime, I called it childish and told him to turn the volume down.
But Isabelle was different.
She was his personal assistant. She not only managed his work flawlessly but also took care of my needs with meticulous attention. When Randall played basketball, she was there with a bottle of water and a word of encouragement. When he watched anime, she'd whisper in awe, "I never knew the CEO had such a passionate side!"
I never understood how watching cartoons could be "passionate," just as I never understood how Randall could get so worked up over animated characters. I couldn't grasp it, but Isabelle got it instantly.
Randall and I lived together day in and day out, yet we were drifting further apart. Isabelle was always a few steps behind him, yet they were growing closer.
Soon, the name "Isabelle" became a constant presence in our lives.
"This bouquet is nice. You don't like it? I'll give it to Isabelle." The client had sent deep red roses, a color I found tacky. In the past, Randall would have thrown them out or given them to his colleagues. This time, he saved them for Isabelle. "Girls her age love roses. Better not to waste them."
It was just a bouquet. I didn't make a big deal of it. But Randall's excuses started piling up. A handbag I didn't want, he'd take. "I'll give this to Isabelle. A little bonus for the month."
Out at a restaurant, I wanted to order crab. "Isn't Isabelle allergic to seafood? And crab is a 'cooling' food; you shouldn't have it either."
He even let her sit in my passenger seat because she got carsick.
Randall was oblivious. Every time I confronted him, he acted as if his conscience was clear. In his mind, Isabelle, an orphan from a group home, was just a pitiful little sister he wanted to look after, just as he had once been pitiful.
I endured it. I thought I could keep enduring it.
Then came Randall's birthday.

06
We had been in a cold war for a week. My belly was swelling, and every time I went home, my parents would tell me not to be so petty, to swallow my pride sometimes. A man of Randall's stature, they said, was bound to have these things happen.
I baked his favorite chocolate cake from scratch and went to his office to surprise him. But as I pushed the door open, I saw Isabelle sitting on his lap, her clothes half-off, locked in a passionate kiss with him.
I snapped.
The black cake flew through the air, splattering across the white of her skin. Randall's computer, the potted plantseverything was smashed. Isabelle screamed and cowered on the floor. Randall shielded her with his body and roared at me.
"Chloe, are you insane?! Have you had enough? Can't you just grow up?"
He was the one cheating. She was the one having the affair. Yet he was telling me to be mature. I couldn't understand it. I couldn't accept it. I couldn't believe that in a conflict between me and Isabelle, Randall would take her side.
The office door was wide open. Everyone outside was listening. I raised my phone, recording, and demanded an explanation. He just stared at me, his eyes cold.
"Chloe, I told you I would take care of you for the rest of my life. Don't push your luck."
Isabelle, wrapped in his suit jacket, rushed over and knelt before me. "Chloe, Randall and I are truly in love. Please, let us be together! I don't want anything. As long as I can be with him, I'll do whatever you ask!"
Randall pulled her up, his expression pained, and held her in his arms. He said nothing, but his actions said everything. In that moment, I was blinded by jealousy. I didn't care about anything else. By the time I came to my senses, it was too late.

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