With that, Humbert stood and announced, “I’ll be retiring upstairs now.”
Margaret clutched at her chest as she watched Humbert’s retreating figure.
Joseph sighed. “He’s just like you. Almost thirty, and while his friends are getting married and starting families, all he thinks about is running to the hospital.”
“What’s wrong with being like me?” Margaret shot back with a glare. “You’re sleeping in the study tonight. I’m going up.”
As Margaret reached the stairs, Humbert came down dressed and ready to go.
“Mom, emergency surgery came up. I need to go,” Humbert said, heading toward the door.
Before she could say anything, he was out the door.
Joseph slammed the table. “See? This is your son. His mind’s always at the hospital. Was he even home for an hour? Just leaves without a word. What girl would want to marry him?”
“Stop shouting,” Margaret said, rubbing her ear. “He’s your son too. And he’s simply being responsible toward his patients.”
*****
It was already half past eleven when Humbert finally returned from the hospital.
His cream–colored dog padded over and nudged his hand. He absently scratched behind its ears, poured himself some water, and made his way to the study.
The morning’s forgotten open window had let the wind scatter documents and books across his desk. He crouched down to collect them one by one,
These were the medical records he’d been studying–case files on patients with severe abdominal swelling of unknown origin.
Hours of reading had left his eyes burning with fatigue. He removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose, but the weariness remained.
His phone screen illuminated, revealing Patrick’s unanswered message from that morning.
Patrick: [I checked with Nina. She was in the class next to ours back then, and she and Claire were practically inseparable. But even she can’t reach Claire.]
Humbert stared at the message, his mind racing. ‘Even her best friend couldn’t reach her?‘
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He opened the group chat and scanned the 48 members. Most had their real names displayed, but six or seven accounts remained unidentified.
The app felt foreign in his hands after years of disuse. Not that it mattered–Claire had blocked him on every other platform long ago.
His thumb hovered over the screen before sending friend requests to each unnamed account.
Within minutes, three accepted. They exchanged polite messages about staying in touch, but none of them was Claire.
By the next morning, the remaining three had responded. His hope faded with each generic greeting–none were from her.
Only one account remained–its gray default avatar staring blankly back at him. After a long moment, he tapped to open the profile.
The unlocked profile showed no personal details, just that ridiculous anime–style avatar–so cringeworthy and outdated that it could only belong to Claire. That painfully familiar lack of tech–savviness was her trademark.
During dinner, Humbert checked his phone again. His Discord friend request to Claire remained unanswered.
He sent another friend request on Discord, this time with a message: [Hey Claire, it’s Humbert. Wanted to connect here too.]
A colleague sitting nearby remarked, “Dr. Pierce, you’ve been distracted all day, constantly checking your phone. Waiting for someone important to message you back?”
Around the hospital, numerous female doctors had shown interest in Humbert. Now several colleagues discreetly watched the exchange, hungry for gossip.
The story of how Humbert, the new attending physician, had turned down the hospital director’s daughter had already made rounds through the entire staff.
Despite frequent confessions from female colleagues and nurses finding excuses to bring him coffee, Humbert maintained his professional distance, politely but firmly declining every advance.
As always, Humbert ignored the question entirely.
The prying doctor let out an awkward laugh.
*****
When Winifred opened Discord a week later, Humbert’s friend request stared back at her.
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She gasped, fumbling with her phone as it nearly slipped from her grasp.
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His persistent online activity showed he kept checking her profile, his status indicator flickering daily.
Winifred deliberately left the friend request unanswered.
Yet Humbert kept returning to the old app throughout the week, checking her profile daily without fail.
The unanswered request lingered while he found himself compulsively checking his phone during breaks.
Claire’s status perpetually showed “Offline,” as if the account had been abandoned for years, or worse, she might really be gone forever.
The
gym session had left Humbert energized, his gray shirt stuck to his sweaty skin, showing his toned stomach. He tilted his head back as sweat rolled down his nose and off his sharp jawline.
He’d been sprinting on the treadmill, chasing that endorphin rush to outrun the unbearable thought–that Claire might actually be dead.
*****
The hospital settled into its usual afternoon rhythm.
During a brief lull between patients, Humbert took out his phone and created a new Discord
account.
He held onto hope that she was still alive and on Discord, that she was just ignoring him like when she’d mailed back every last thing he’d ever given her without so much as a goodbye.
He exhaled sharply as he sent yet another Discord request–his third attempt this week. His fingers hovered before typing a terse message. [Claire, it’s Stanley. I have something to tell you.]
Stanley Jenkins was Class 18’s athletic rep and the school’s star basketball player. Humbert still remembered the day he saw Claire and Nina deliver love letters to Stanley,
That afternoon, Claire’s cheeks burned pink as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her school uniform. When she lowered her gaze, her long lashes fluttered like nervous butterflies.
She’d skipped down the stairs, clinging to Nina’s arm, practically glowing with excitement.
Humbert’s jaw tightened at the memory. Just some stupid letter for Stanley. What could possibly be worth that ridiculous skipping and blushing?‘ he thought bitterly.
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Humbert knew it was wrong to message Claire while pretending to be Stanley. The idea had just come to him, like some reckless impulse.
If she replied, it would mean she was still alive.
The guilt festered inside him like an infected wound that wouldn’t heal.
That memory had been stuck in his mind for seven years. During those years abroad, he’d dreamed of Claire several times.
Before his senior year study abroad, they’d met at a hotel for one passionate night, and she’d been unexpectedly responsive that day.
What started as an accidental fling gradually became something he craved.
Over time, Humbert became aware of his certain preferences when it came to sex.
He rarely used the bed, and her tears turned him on the most.
Though Claire was overweight, his six–foot–two athletic build made lifting her effortless.
Just before leaving the country, he gave Claire a debit card loaded with sixty thousand dollars.
Her acceptance of the money pleased him. During their three–year relationship, she’d refused every gift he’d ever tried to give her.
The only way she’d take anything was when he threatened to throw it away.
That night, she nestled against his chest, her skin glowing with warmth.
When he told her to buy whatever she wanted, she responded with her usual quiet obedience, that soft “okay” he’d come to expect.
A month into his overseas assignment, his mother called about a package that arrived for him. He absentmindedly told her to just leave it there.
The first fortnight abroad left him bedridden with culture shock and fever. It never occurred to him to message Claire during his recovery, though he later realized she hadn’t reached out either.
Throughout their three–year relationship, she’d always been the quiet type, never initiating
contact.
When he finally tried texting her, he found that she had blocked him.
Humbert stared at his phone, stunned. Rejection was an entirely foreign concept to him- women practically threw themselves at him regularly.
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‘So that’s why she’d been so quiet lately–throwing a fit over my abrupt departure?‘ The thought left him both irritated and darkly amused.
The package had been waiting in his study since the Christmas holidays. Humbert spotted the sender’s name immediately–just the character “Claire” staring back at him.
His temple throbbed as he began unwrapping it, his breathing growing uneven.
Claire had sent him this large package, which had remained unopened in his study for nearly six months, since his family respected his privacy.
When he finally opened it, he froze. Inside were all the gifts he had given Claire throughout their three–year relationship.
She had even returned all the money he’d transferred to her, consolidating every amount onto a single debit card.
Every item bore a sticky note in Claire’s handwriting, meticulously recording the date, location, and occasion.
She had accounted for everything down to the last cent–every meal they shared, every drink he bought her, even their hotel expenses–with calculated amounts precisely noted.
The fancy gifts–four designer bags, a bracelet, a necklace, and a watch worth over 200 thousand dollars total–still had their tags on. She’d never worn any of them. The cheaper stuff was just everyday things and dinner dates.
Humbert’s head pounded as he stared at the box, his chest tight. He kicked it hard, sending everything flying. Two unopened condom boxes landed right at his feet like some cruel cosmic joke, mocking his foolishness.
She had ended their relationship with surgical precision, leaving no room for doubt or
reconciliation.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
