He Replied \"Okay\" Until I Left Forever

Three of us were having dinner. Hudson took the menu and looked at Fiona first.

Your stomach has been sensitive lately. Should we order something light?

Fiona pouted, whining that she wanted something spicy.

He chuckled. Fine, but only mild spicy.

I sat across from them, remaining silent.

I had been battling a severe stomach ulcer for three months. Last week, I sent him my follow-up report. He only replied with a single word: [Okay.]

The waitress turned to me. "And for you, sweetie?"

"Anything is fine," I said.

Soon, the table was filled with spicy dishes.

Hudson picked up his fork and knife, carefully flaking off a piece of grilled fish, and placed it into Fiona's plate. "Careful, it's hot."

I held my glass of lukewarm water, staring at his profile.

Three years ago, he used to treat me with the exact same tenderness.

I used to think those sweet habits belonged to me. I didn't know habits could pack up and move to someone else.

He looked up and glanced at me. "Why aren't you eating?"

"Not hungry."

He frowned. "Your attitude has been getting weirder and weirder lately."

I didn't reply.

It wasn't a weird attitude. It was just that I had stopped telling him what I wanted to eat a long time ago.

Speaking up was pointless anyway, so I eventually chose silence.

"Ouch! That hurts!"

Fiona suddenly covered her mouth, her brows furrowed in pain.

Hudson stood up so fast his chair screeched back half a foot.

"How could you be so careless?"

"The bones in this fish are too tiny. I didn't see them," Fiona said, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Open your mouth. Let me see where it's stuck."

Hudson leaned over the table.

"It's on your tongue. Not too deep. I can get it out for you."

They were so close. Hudson turned on his phone flashlight to inspect her mouth.

Sitting across from them, the pungent smell of chili from the dishes invaded my nose. My stomach acid churned violently.

I pressed my hand firmly against my abdomen. No one spared me a single glance.

I unlocked my phone. Our chat from last week was still sitting there quietly.

[The test results are out. The doctor said it doesn't look good. Please take a look when you have a minute.]

[Okay.]

Below that, there was nothing else.

"Better now? The bone is out," Hudson said, sitting back down.

"Want to swallow some bread? Or drink some lemon juice? I'll be more careful cleaning the fish for you next time."

"I don't want any more fish. I'm scared," Fiona complained softly.

"Then eat something else. This fried chicken has no bones."

He picked up his fork and put a chicken drumstick into her plate.

"Thank you, Hudson. You're the best."

Fiona smiled sweetly.

She then turned to me, a hint of triumph in her eyes. "Angie, are you really not going to eat anything?"

"Not hungry." I took a small sip of my warm water.

"Is the food here not to your liking?"

"If I had known, I would have insisted we go to that Mexican place you like."

"It's fine."

Hudson suddenly slammed his fork down, his face darkening.

"Angie, who are you pulling that face for?"

I looked up at him. "I'm not pulling a face."

"Fiona is just trying to be nice. What's with the attitude?"

"My stomach hurts."

"If it hurts, go buy some meds. Don't ruin the mood for everyone else here."

I looked at him, finding it almost funny.

Three years. He completely forgot that I got this chronic stomach ulcer from staying up late with him for months to help him finish his startup project.

"I need to use the restroom," I said, standing up.

"Make it quick. I'm ready to pay the bill," Hudson said without looking up.

I walked into the restroom, gripped the sink, and dry-heaved twice.

Nothing came up but burning stomach acid.

I splashed cold water on my face and stared at my pale reflection in the mirror.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from my doctor.

[Miss Angie, your new biopsy report is ready. I strongly suggest you come to the clinic as soon as possible.]

I dried my hands and walked back to the dining area.

Hudson had already paid. He was gently draping a camel coat over Fiona's shoulders.

"It's chilly tonight. Don't catch a cold."

Fiona snuggled into the coat. "Hudson's coat is so warm."

Hudson turned and saw me, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Let's go. What are you standing there for?"

Outside the restaurant, the freezing winter wind hit my face. I shivered.

While Hudson went to the parking lot to get the car, Fiona stood next to me.

"Angie, don't be mad at Hudson."

"He just has a short temper, but he's a really good guy."

"Before my dad passed away, he made Hudson promise to look after me. Hudson keeps his word. He's a man of honor."

"Moving from my hometown to LA three years ago hasn't been easy. I don't know what I would've done without him."

She stared at the direction Hudson went.

"I'm not mad," I replied.

"Good. I was worried you'd misunderstand our relationship."

"I won't."

The car pulled up. Hudson rolled down the window. "Get in."

Fiona opened the passenger door and slid inside naturally.

I opened the back door and sat in the shadows of the backseat.

The car was playing the soft indie music Fiona liked.

"I'll drop Fiona off first," Hudson said as he started the engine.

"Thanks, Hudson. Sorry to trouble you."

"No trouble. It's on the way."

It wasn't on the way. Fiona lived on the east side of the city. I lived on the west.

But I said nothing.

When we arrived at Fiona's apartment building, Hudson parked the car.

"I'll walk you up."

"No need! I can walk myself."

"It's late. It's not safe."

They both got out of the car.

I sat in the dark vehicle, watching them walk side-by-side into the building entrance.

It took ten minutes for Hudson to return.

"Why didn't you turn up the heater?" He glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

"I'm not cold."

He didn't push further and started driving.

"Tomorrow is the weekend. Any plans?" he asked casually.

"No."

"Perfect. Come help me move Fiona's stuff tomorrow."

"She's a girl, she has too many boxes to carry by herself."

I stared out the window. "Okay."

I gripped my phone, opened my chat with Hudson, and typed:

[The doctor wants me to go to the hospital. My biopsy results are out.]

My thumb hovered over the send button for a long time.

After a moment, I deleted the message, letter by letter.

Forget it. He would only reply with an "Okay."

"It's intestinal metaplasia. It's a precancerous lesion," Dr. Evans said, looking at me with a serious expression.

"It doesn't mean it will definitely turn into cancer, but we must treat it seriously."

"No spicy or irritating food. Eat regular meals. Regular check-ups. Surgery might be needed if things worsen."

"What if I leave it untreated?" I asked.

"You're still young, Angie. Don't gamble with your life."

Dr. Evans handed me the report. I took it.

Stepping out of the clinic, the afternoon sun felt blindingly hot.

I dialed Hudson's number. It rang eight times before he finally picked up.

"What's up?" Hudson's voice sounded clearly annoyed.

In the background, Fiona was giggling.

"Hudson, should we put this cabinet here?"

"I went to the hospital today..." I started.

"Are you okay? Oh, right."

Hudson cut me off.

"I told you yesterday, Fiona needs help moving today. Since you're free, come over and help her pack."

I fell silent.

"Hello? Lost your tongue again?"

"Okay."

"Great. Ten tomorrow morning. I'll text you the address."

The line went dead. I looked at the call duration: twenty-four seconds.

He didn't ask why I went to the hospital. He didn't even ask if I was okay.

The next day, I went to Fiona's new apartment.

Hudson was using a screwdriver to assemble a wardrobe for Fiona.

Fiona, wearing an apron, poked her head out of the kitchen.

"Angie! You're here!"

"Could you help me wash those new plates and bowls? I just bought them."

I walked over and rolled up my sleeves. The tap water was ice-cold, stinging my skin.

"Hudson, you have to cook the very first meal in my new home, okay?" Fiona leaned against the kitchen doorframe.

"Sure. What do you want?" Hudson asked without looking up.

"Spicy roast chicken!"

Hudson put down his screwdriver and turned to look at me.

"Angie, be a sweetheart and run to the grocery store to grab some ingredients."

The plate in my hand slipped, clattering against the edge of the sink with a dull thud.

Cooking a housewarming dinner for another woman, and sending me to do the grocery run.

"Okay," I said.

During our three years together, I had become too accustomed to saying "okay."

As I walked out of the apartment, a dull pain began to bloom in my stomach.

On my way back from the grocery store, the pain intensified.

I had to squat down by a flowerbed on the street, cold sweat drenching my back.

I waited there for ten minutes before I could barely stand up again.

An hour later, Hudson served the steaming, aromatic roast chicken.

The spicy scent filled the air, triggering a sharp sting in my stomach.

He carved a large piece of chicken and placed it in Fiona's bowl.

"Try this. I made sure to put less chili for you."

He remembered to put less spice for Fiona.

But at our dinners, he had never once remembered my condition.

I stood up and grabbed my purse. "I'm going home. My stomach feels a bit off."

Hudson looked up at me briefly, then went back to serving Fiona.

"Drink some warm water when you get back."

"Angie, are you sure you don't want to stay? It tastes amazing!" Fiona asked with a fake pout.

"No, thank you."

That night, the stomach pain was so bad I couldn't even lie flat.

I curled up on the sofa. My phone screen lit up.

Hudson had posted on his Instagram.

In the photo, he and Fiona were holding wine glasses, smiling brightly.

The caption read: [New home, new beginnings. ]

The comment section was bustling.

[Is she your girlfriend?]

[She's gorgeous!]

Hudson didn't reply to any of them, nor did he deny it.

I searched through all my drawers but couldn't find my stomach meds.

I opened my chat with Hudson. [My stomach hurts really badly.]

I stared at the screen for ten seconds, then deleted it.

The next morning, I received an official email from my company.

The headquarters in Finland was looking for an exchange financial analyst for a joint research project. The contract was for three years.

In the attachment, the contact person's name was Albert Davis.

I stared at that email for a long time.

Three years. Far enough, long enough.

My phone vibrated. It was Hudson.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I told you, I wasn't feeling well."

"You always complain about that minor stomach issue. Aren't you tired of it?"

"Fiona thought she made you feel unwelcome. She felt guilty all night."

"She felt guilty? For what?"

"Why are you always so cold-blooded, Angie?"

"Me? Cold-blooded?" I asked back.

"Whatever. I don't have time to argue with you," Hudson said, his voice dripping with frustration.

"I won't be coming home tonight. Fiona still has some things that need setting up."

"Up to you." I hung up.

A voice message from Albert popped up on my WhatsApp.

"Angie, have you thought about the offer?"

I opened the email reply box and typed: [I accept the offer.]

"Let's go watch a movie this weekend," Hudson said as he changed his shoes at the door.

"I don't feel like it." I didn't look up from my laptop, continuing to organize my transition files.

"Fiona gave me two tickets. She said it's a great movie."

"You two go."

"She has her own ticket. The three of us are going together."

Hudson walked over and closed my laptop shut.

"Stop locking yourself in the house all day. No wonder you have such a bad attitude lately."

I stared at him. "Okay."

It wasn't until we reached the theater that I realized it was a horror movie.

Fiona held a tub of popcorn, looking completely innocent.

"Angie, aren't you scared? I have the worst courage."

"No."

The lights dimmed. Within the first ten minutes, Fiona let out a sharp shriek.

She threw herself toward Hudson, grabbing his arm tightly and burying her face in his shoulder.

Hudson didn't push her away. Instead, he gently patted her back.

"It's okay. It's just CGI," his voice was incredibly gentle.

I sat on his other side, separated by the armrest where his jacket lay.

When the movie ended, Fiona turned to me.

"Angie, were you really not scared at all?"

"No."

Hudson cut in. "She's tough. She never needs anyone to worry about her."

Right. Because even if I did, it wouldn't be his turn to worry.

The cold wind outside the theater made my stomach cramp again.

"Let's grab a late-night snack," Hudson suggested.

As we passed a Mexican restaurant, I stopped.

I had asked Hudson to take me here three times. Every time, he said "next time."

I didn't say anything and kept walking.

"That one!" Fiona pointed at a seafood bistro ahead. "I've been dying to try that place!"

Without hesitation, Hudson steered us inside.

Once we were seated, the table was loaded with spicy seafood.

In front of me sat a glass of warm water.

Fiona bit into a spicy crab leg and suddenly spoke up.

"Angie, are you on a diet?"

"I noticed you barely touched your food during our last few dinners."

Before I could answer, she giggled.

"But I guess it's good. Girls look better in clothes when they're skinny."

Hudson didn't object. He actually agreed.

"She's always been like this. Eats like a bird."

It wasn't because I ate like a bird. It was because I couldn't eat a single dish you ordered.

The strong scent of spices hit my nose, worsening the spasms in my stomach.

I clenched my hands on my lap.

I suddenly realized something with painful clarity.

He hadn't forgotten that I couldn't eat spicy food. He simply didn't care enough to know.

When we got home, I rushed to the bathroom and threw up. There were traces of blood in the toilet bowl.

My phone rang.

"Home?" Hudson's voice came through.

"Yes."

"Get some sleep."

The call ended. Call duration: eight seconds.

The next day, we had a Zoom meeting.

Albert briefly introduced the project on the screen.

At the end, he added, "Angie, if you have any concerns about moving to Finland, let me know anytime."

"No concerns at all."

After closing the Zoom call, several voice messages popped up on my WhatsApp.

They were from Fiona.

"Angie, I want to tell you something, but please don't get mad at me."

"When Hudson drove me home yesterday, he said you've been so cold lately."

"He felt really hurt."

"Maybe you should show him a little more affection?"

I looked at the screen and suddenly laughed.

He felt hurt.

Okay.

I opened my work email and clicked [Confirm Transfer].

That evening, Hudson came home.

I was packing my documents in the study.

"Next weekend, I'm taking you and Fiona to a hot spring resort upstate to relax," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm not going."

"What is it this time?" He frowned.

I took the medical reports, doctors' instructions, and biopsy results from the drawer, stacked them neatly, and placed them on the corner of the desk.

"If you have time, read these."

He glanced at them but didn't pick them up.

"Yeah, I'll look at them later. First, about next weekend..."

"I'm tired, Hudson." I stood up, walked into the bedroom, and locked the door behind me.

"Are you throwing another tantrum?!"

His angry, muffled voice came from the hallway.

I ignored him.

"Table for two, this way please," the waitress smiled warmly.

"Three," Hudson corrected.

The waitress looked behind them, her eyes finally landing on me. She apologized awkwardly.

It was Fiona's birthday dinner, and Hudson had booked a high-end Japanese restaurant.

Fiona held Hudson's arm as they walked in.

I walked behind them with my head down, looking like an unwanted shadow.

After sitting down, Hudson handed the menu to Fiona.

"Order whatever you like."

Fiona pointed at the menu. "The premium sashimi platter, Wagyu sukiyaki, and eel rice."

Hudson finally looked at me. "What do you want?"

"A bowl of simple green tea rice."

Hudson frowned. "That's it?"

"Yes." I didn't elaborate.

Halfway through the dinner, Hudson put down his utensils and pulled a velvet box from his pocket.

"Happy birthday, Fiona."

Fiona gasped, covering her mouth. "Oh my god! It's beautiful!"

It was a diamond necklace.

I watched the scene quietly.

A month ago, it was my birthday. Hudson forgot.

I didn't remind him.

He only remembered three days later. He Venmoed me some money with the note [Belated birthday gift].

I didn't accept the money, and he never asked about it again.

Fiona touched the necklace, smiling at me.

"Angie, you're so lucky. Hudson is always so thoughtful. I'm so touched."

I raised my teacup. "Happy birthday."

My phone buzzed. It was an email from Albert.

[Your visa has been approved. Departure in three weeks.]

I read the email and locked my screen.

Looking up, I saw Hudson gently wiping a smudge of sauce from the corner of Fiona's mouth with a napkin.

In this relationship, I was like a piece of luggage forgotten in a corner.

The owner walked past it every day, never looking at it, but always assuming it would be there forever.

I set down my cup. My voice was calm. "Hudson."

He looked at me. I met his eyes.

He used to look at me with the exact same eyes three years ago, filled with warmth.

But now, that warmth had moved out.

"Let's break up."

The air froze for two seconds.

Fiona's fork clattered loudly onto her plate.

Hudson's expression shifted from confusion to offended rage.

"What did you say?"

"Let's break up," I repeated.

He let out a cold laugh. "Are you seriously picking today of all days to start a fight?"

"I'm not fighting." I stood up and grabbed my coat. "I'm moving to Finland next month. It's a three-year transfer."

"We are done."

Hudson stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"Angie, have you lost your mind? Throwing away three years of our relationship just like that?"

"Three years?"

I looked back at him, my voice barely a whisper.

"In these three years, count how many times you've replied to me with just 'Okay'. Go check our chat history."

I turned toward the door. Hudson's voice roared behind me.

"Angie, stop right there!"

"Angie!"

Fiona grabbed Hudson's arm, her eyes red. "Hudson, don't yell at her. Maybe she's just emotional right now..."

I pushed open the restaurant door, and the winter wind rushed over me.

My phone buzzed. A text from Hudson: [Come back. We need to talk.]

I didn't reply.

I hailed a cab and gave the driver the hospital's address.

"Going to the ER, kiddo?" the driver asked.

"Yeah."

My stomach was screaming in pain again. But my heart felt absolutely nothing.