I Bought My Own Umbrella

Serena had an automated reminder set on her phone. I only saw it once, by accident.

The note read: Rain this weekend. Remind him to bring an umbrella.

For a long time, I foolishly assumed the him was me.

Until the night the tropical storm hit, and I stood waiting for her, entirely convinced she was on her way.

I was stranded outside my office building. Ten minutes passed in the torrential downpour, and there was no sign of her car.

When I finally called, she answered with a flat, "What's up?"

Her tone was cold, the way you would talk to a stranger who had inconvenienced you.

I waited in the storm for forty minutes before I finally gave up and called an Uber.

That night, while she was in the shower, her iPad lit up on the nightstand. There, pinned at the very top of her messages, was a thread with a contact saved as "Toby."

The last message, sent at 2:00 PM, read:

Got it, Serena! Brought my umbrella. You always rememberhonestly, you're more reliable than my own alarm clock.

She had replied with a single sun emoji.

I scrolled through their chat history. Three years of messages.

Every single week, without fail, there was a message from her: It's going to rain today. Make sure to bring an umbrella. One hundred and fifty-six reminders.

Then I opened our own thread. Three years of shared life, and not a single text checking in on me or asking if I was safe.

The "him" had never been me.

I didn't cry. I didn't scream.

I just closed the messaging app, opened my email, and clicked on the offer letter a headhunter had sent me the previous week.

If she wanted to save her care for someone else, that was fine. I was taking my future back.

"What are you doing with the suitcase in the middle of the night?"

Serena asked, drying her hair with a towel as she walked out of the bathroom. Her gaze fell on the twenty-eight-inch silver suitcase sitting by my feet.

I folded the dust cover and slipped it into the drawer.

"There's an international expo next week. I might have to travel."

"For how long?"

"Not sure yet."

She didn't press further. She walked over to the bed, sat down, and habitually reached for her phone.

The moment her screen lit up, I caught a glimpse of a notification.

The sender was Toby.

The message read: The thunder finally stopped. I survived! [crying face emoji]

Serenas thumb hovered over the screen for a second. She typed a quick reply, then flipped the phone face-down on the nightstand.

She turned to look at me, a faint, almost imperceptible trace of calculation in her eyes.

"The rain was brutal tonight. Traffic was a nightmare. Did you get cold?"

"No."

I sat at the vanity, slowly drying my hair with a towel.

The rainwater from the storm had been freezing, and the chill still lingered at the roots of my hair.

"That client," she started, her voice entirely too casual, "he's a recent college grad. The point person for our Boston project. Hes never experienced a storm like this before and was absolutely terrified. He practically begged me to stay on the phone with him."

I looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"I see."

"Don't read into it," she said, standing up and walking over to stand behind me. She took the towel from my hands. "I only did it because I didn't want the project timeline to slip. Otherwise, why would I spend my night listening to a kid cry?"

Her touch was gentle, exactly the way she used to dry my hair.

I watched her lowered eyes in the mirror.

"Serena."

"Yeah?"

"Was there a storm in Boston today?"

The towel in her hands stopped moving.

It was a tiny pausebarely half a second.

"It must have been the outer bands of the hurricane," she said, her expression smooth as she resumed her gentle movements. "They got a lot of rain over there, too."

I didn't call her out.

According to the National Weather Service's radar, the hurricane's eye was over a thousand miles away from Boston.

Boston had some light overcast skies today, but no rain, and certainly no thunder.

Whenever she lied, her voice naturally dropped half an octave.

"Where's the blow dryer?" she asked, pulling open a drawer to rummage through it.

"Don't worry about it. I'll do it."

I took the towel from her hands and stood up, walking toward the bathroom.

"Gary," she called out behind me. "Are you mad?"

I stopped.

"Because I was late picking you up?"

"No."

"I promise it won't happen again."

She walked over, wrapping her arms around me from behind, resting her chin on my shoulder.

The cedar scent of her body wash mingled with the faint, crisp pear perfume she always wore. It was a scent I had lived with for two years.

"Tomorrow is the weekend. Let me take you to that upscale sushi place you love to make it up to you, okay?"

"Okay."

She let go of me, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Get some sleep. I'll make the reservation tomorrow."

The next morning, I was woken up by the smart speaker's daily broadcast.

"Good morning. It is currently 9:00 AM. Today in the city, it will be sunny with a high of eighty degrees. In Boston, it is currently overcast with light rain, and a high of sixty-eight. Please dress accordingly."

I opened my eyes.

Serena was standing by the bed, buttoning her blouse. When she heard the weather report, her hands froze.

"What's wrong with this speaker? Why is it broadcasting random cities?"

She walked over and hit the mute button.

"I added it," I said, sitting up and leaning against the headboard to watch her.

Her hand stopped on her collar button.

"What?"

"I couldn't sleep last night, so I was messing around with the smart home settings. I noticed you had Boston saved under your weather locations, so I added it to the morning briefing."

The bedroom fell into a suffocating silence.

Serena finished buttoning her shirt, turned around, and looked at me, her brow furrowing.

"Gary, did you go through my phone?"

"No. I went through our home network router logs."

Her face darkened.

"Is this fun for you? I told you, he's just a client. Is it really necessary to play these cheap monitoring games?"

"If I hadn't checked, would you have ever told me it was raining in Boston?"

"Why would I?" she raised her voice. "What does it have to do with you? Do I need to report every single detail of my work to you?"

She frustratedly tossed her blazer onto the bed.

"Gary, you never used to be this insecure."

I stared at her outbursts.

For two years, she had always been the emotionally stable one.

This was the first time she had ever raised her voice at meall for a "client."

"Are we still going for sushi?" I asked quietly.

She blinked, clearly caught off guard by my lack of anger.

Taking a deep breath, she forced her temper down.

"Yes. Let me wash my face and we'll go."

She disappeared into the bathroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, pulled out my phone, and opened Poshmark.

I listed a custom-tailored suitthe one I had bought for our scheduled engagement photos next month.

The rushing water in the bathroom stopped.

Serena walked out, her face restored to her usual gentle expression.

"I'm sorry about my attitude earlier. I've just been under so much pressure at work lately."

She walked to the bedside, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.

"Go get dressed. I'll wait for you in the car."

Twenty minutes later, I sat in the passenger seat.

She started the ignition, and the center console screen suddenly lit up with an incoming call.

It was Toby.

The air in the cabin turned to ice.

Serena stared at the screen, neither answering nor declining.

The phone rang for fifteen seconds before going to voicemail.

Then, because her phone was connected to the car's Bluetooth, a voice note began to play automatically.

"Hey, Serena! I washed that windbreaker you lent me yesterday. When do you want me to drop it back off?"

The voice was bright, casual, and dripping with familiarity.

I turned my head to look at Serena.

"You saw him last night?"

Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

"His car broke down on his way back. I happened to be driving that way, so I pulled over and lent him my jacket."

"On your way back?" I looked at her. "Which route were you taking to pick me up that required a detour to Boston to lend someone a jacket?"

"He's in town for business!" she blurted out.

A deafening silence filled the car.

I looked at her, suddenly finding the face beside me entirely unrecognizable.

"Oh. So he's here in the city."

I turned back to look out the window at the passing streets.

"Then those forty minutes you were late... you must have been rushing."

Serena slammed on the brakes, pulling the SUV sharply to the curb.

"Gary, can you stop with the passive-aggressive attitude? He's just a kid who just started in this industry. He's clumsy. What's wrong with me looking out for him as a mentor?"

"So you stayed connected to his Bluetooth, listening to him whine, while you let me stand in a tropical storm for twenty minutes?"

"I told you, there was traffic!"

"Serena," I said, turning to look her straight in the eyes. "If you gave him your jacket, what were you wearing when you came home?"

She froze.

"When you finally showed up last night, your hair was perfectly dry. You didn't have an umbrella, and you weren't wearing a jacket. How did you manage to walk up to me completely untouched by a storm?"

Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

"Because you never got out of the car," I finished for her. "You parked in his apartment's garage, watched him go upstairs, and only when you knew he was safe inside did you take your sweet time driving over to get me."

Her throat tightened.

"Are you tracking me?"

"The dashcam is linked to my account."

Her head snapped toward the center console.

"Gary, what is it that you actually want?"

"I don't want the sushi anymore."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open.

"Go get your jacket."

"Gary!"

Serena threw open her door and ran after me, grabbing my wrist.

The splash from a passing car's tires soaked our legs.

"Are you done throwing a tantrum?" Her eyebrows knitted into a tight knot. "Over a jacket? You're refusing to eat and starting a fight in the middle of the street?"

I shook her hand off.

"I'm not starting a fight. I just don't want to eat."

"What is your actual issue?" She stepped in front of me, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "I told you, he's just an immature kid. There is absolutely nothing going on between us. Do you have to disgust me with these constant interrogations?"

Looking at her righteous indignation, I felt a sudden urge to laugh.

"Nothing is going on, yet he texts you in the middle of the night saying he's scared of thunder?"

"He's alone in a new city with no friends, and a massive storm hit. It's completely normal to be scared."

"I was alone in a storm too, standing outside my office."

"You're a grown man!" she snapped, her voice so loud that several pedestrians turned to look. "You've always been independent and capable. You know how to find shelter. What about him? He didn't even have a windbreaker. Was I supposed to just let him freeze and get sick?"

Ah. So being independent and capable meant I deserved to be left in the rain.

I took a step back, widening the distance between us.

"So you truly believe you did nothing wrong."

"What did I do wrong?" She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. "Gary, my job is exhausting enough. Can you please show some empathy instead of nitpicking over trivial things?"

Nitpicking.

I nodded slowly.

"Okay. I understand."

I turned and walked toward the nearest subway station.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"I'll drive you."

"No need," I said without turning around. "Go take care of your helpless kid."

Serena didn't follow me.

As I sat on the train, I saw her black SUV parked by the curb for a long time. Finally, her blinker flashed, and she drove off toward Eastside.

Eastsidethe area where the city's cheapest business hotels were clustered.

Exactly where a "recent college grad" would be staying.

When I got back to our apartment, I began sorting through my closet.

The clothes I wanted to take went onto the bed; the ones I didn't went straight into trash bags.

After living together for two years, I didn't actually have that much.

Serena was a strict minimalist who hated clutter.

To accommodate her, I had given up collecting books and decor, and even kept only a single coffee mug for myself.

While clearing out the desk, I pulled open the bottom drawer and found a sketchbook.

It was a birthday gift she had given me during our first year together.

On the cover, she had written: Blueprint of Gary's Future.

Inside were hand-drawn floor plans of a housewhere the sofa would go, where we would put the cat tree, all detailed in her neat handwriting.

Back then, she had said, "Gary, once I save enough for a down payment, we're going to build a home exactly like this."

I flipped to the last page. The edges of the paper had already yellowed.

I tossed it into the trash bag.

At 3:00 PM, my phone rang. It was the relocation agent.

"Mr. Reynolds, the landlord for the short-term apartment in Helsinki confirmed. You can sign the lease online whenever you're ready."

"Great. I'll sign it right now."

I hung up, opened my email, and digitally signed the lease.

The moment the contract went through, a physical weight lifted from my chest, and I could breathe again.

The door lock beeped.

Serena walked in, carrying a paper bag from the sushi restaurant.

She froze when she saw the trash bags on the floor.

"Are you deep cleaning?"

"Yeah. Getting rid of things we don't need."

She placed the bag on the dining table and walked toward me, reaching out for a hug.

I stepped aside.

Her arms hovered awkwardly in the air, her face tightening with embarrassment.

"Still mad?" She sighed. "I drove all the way to that restaurant to get the thick-cut salmon sashimi you love. I waited in line for thirty minutes."

I looked at the paper bag.

The restaurant's logo was printed on the front, and next to it was a yellow sticky note.

The handwriting was delicate and bubbly:

Thanks for dinner, Serena! The salmon was amazing~

Serena followed my gaze. Her face went pale.

She lunged forward, ripped the sticky note off, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it into her pocket.

"That... the hostess must have written that."

Watching her pathetic attempt to cover it up, I didn't even have the energy to be angry anymore.

"The hostess calls you Serena?"

"Gary, let me explain," she said quickly, stepping closer. "I did go see him to get my jacket back. Since we were right there, we grabbed a quick bite. But this bag is fresh! I ordered it specifically for you!"

"Right there?" I pointed at the bag. "The restaurant is on the west side of town. He lives in the east. You crossed the entire city. How is that 'right there'?"

"He insisted on tagging along!" Serena raised her voice, trying to drown out her guilt with volume. "He said hed never been to a high-end sushi place and practically begged to get in my car. I couldn't just throw him out on the street, could I?"

Begged.

She used a degrading word to describe him, yet she had carried his sweet little note all the way back to our home.

"So, you took him to the restaurant we were saving for our anniversary."

I looked into her eyes, my voice so calm it surprised even me.

"And then, you brought his leftovers home as an apology gift for me."

"No! This is a fresh order!" she panicked. "Gary, why do you always have to think the worst of people? Why is your mind so toxic?"

"Toxic?" I let out a dry laugh. "Serena, if I took a female intern to a romantic restaurant, let her call me by a pet name, and then brought her leftovers home to you, would you call that toxic?"

"That's different!"

"How?"

"He sees me as an older sister! We're basically best friends, like girlfriends!" she practically screamed. "The kid didn't think anything of it. You're the one overcomplicating things!"

I nodded slowly.

"Right. I'm the one overcomplicating things."

I stepped past her, picked up the sushi bag from the table, walked straight to the kitchen, and threw the entire thing into the trash can.

"Gary, what are you doing!"

Serena rushed over, staring at the discarded food, her face twisted with rage.

"I stood in line for half an hour for that!"

"It's dirty."

I turned to face her.

"Your jacket, your sushi, and your little 'best friend'they all make me sick."

Serena stared at me, her chest heaving violently.

"Fine," she spat, nodding bitterly. "You're so pure, so above it all. Gary, you are being completely unreasonable right now."

She stormed to the entryway and grabbed her car keys.

"We'll talk when you've calmed down."

The door slammed shut behind her, rattling the frame.

I stood in the silence, listening to the elevator descend.

Five minutes later, my phone vibrated. It was a picture message from an unknown number.

In the photo, Serena was sitting in a private booth at the sushi restaurant, leaning forward to peel a shrimp for the boy sitting opposite her. Only the boys arm was visible, clad in her black windbreaker.

Underneath, a caption read:

Don't be mad, brother-in-law. Serena says you're the mature one. I'm sure you wouldn't get jealous over me.

I stared at the screen.

I hit delete.

Then, I opened my chat with the headhunter.

My flight is booked. I leave Friday night.