Chapter 2Fever Broke and So Did We

Outside, the storm raged on, wind howling against the windowpanes. Every local pharmacy and convenience store had closed early due to the severe weather. With no way to buy medicine, I could only manage a quick wash before collapsing onto the bed.

But the fever burned in my bones, making sleep impossible. In my misery, I unlocked my phone and stared at the replies to my comment.

A user had replied: Oh sweetie, why did you walk home in the rain? Why didn't you ask your boyfriend to pick you up? Or call an Uber?

When the storm had hit that afternoon, I’d called Mason repeatedly. He’d ignored every call. It wasn't until right before clock-out that he sent a brief text: I'm tied up with something. Can't make it. Figure out your own way home.

Because of the flash flood warnings, rideshare prices had skyrocketed, and no drivers were accepting trips. Desperate, I’d had to unlock a city bike and ride home through the stinging rain, just like many of my stranded coworkers.

Before I could type out a response, another user replied to her comment:

Never rely on anyone but yourself, OP. If you have the means, buy your own car. A car is a girl’s ultimate shield. With your own set of wheels, you never have to wait on anyone else.

Then, she attached a screenshot of a lifestyle influencer's post.

This is a lifestyle blogger I follow. She got caught in the rain today and caught a cold, so her boyfriend bought her a brand-new car on the spot. He said he never wants her to have to look out the window in a storm and envy the people sitting dry inside a car.

Looking at the screenshot, my freezing fingertips began to tremble.

The "lifestyle blogger" was Sadie Thompson—Mason’s executive assistant.

Driven by some masochistic curiosity, I opened her TikTok account.

Sadie had been documenting her daily life since she started at Mason's company last fall. In almost every video, there was a familiar, towering silhouette.

At first, Mason only showed his hands—his well-manicured, long fingers, or his deep, resonant voice narrating in the background. It was enough to gain her thousands of followers.

The comments were filled with fans shipping them.

One comment read: Your boss is so incredibly sweet to you! Asking for a friend... when do we get to hear wedding bells?

Sadie had liked the comment and replied with just two words: Take a guess.

She never clarified her relationship with Mason, letting the internet play matchmaker.

I scrolled down, my eyes stopping on the video she’d uploaded just today.

It showed Mason sitting on an unfamiliar, plush sofa, leaning over a bowl of hot soup, gently blowing on it to cool it down for her.

She giggled behind the camera, asking, "Hey, Boss, can I ask you a quick question?"

"Why do you think every girl needs her own car?"

In the video, his eyes were incredibly soft, looking at her with a tender, focused devotion.

"Because a car represents a woman’s independence," he said. "Once you have your own car, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want. You’ll never be tied down by anyone or anything, and you’ll never have to look at someone else driving by in the rain and wish you were in their passenger seat."

My mind drifted back to last year, during a similar storm.

When Mason picked me up from work, I’d casually mentioned, "Maybe I should buy a car? That way, you won't have to take such a long detour to get me."

He’d shaken his head, smiling warmly.

"If you have your own car, how am I supposed to play the doting boyfriend?" he’d said. "Don't overthink it. Picking you up is never a chore. I’d gladly drive out of my way for you for the rest of my life."

Yet, just last month, when I was running late and asked him for a quick ride to the office, he’d frowned, his tone lecturing and cold:

"You're an adult, Norah, not a schoolchild. Having your boyfriend drive you to work every single day—don't you think that's a bit embarrassing?"

I returned to the comment section on my phone.

I typed a short reply: You're entirely right. It’s time I started relying on myself.