A Stranger’s Unexpected Visit
Before all this happened, I’d believed I could survive alone. Dreaming of university, of independence.
If it weren’t for Lauren, I would have been curled up in an empty house, shaking with fear, tears streaming as I passed another sleepless night.
“Thank you…”
Jiyu bowed her head, voice cracking with each shaky breath, gratitude pouring out for Lauren’s generous kindness with no strings attached.
The two of them descended the stairs to the family floor and headed toward Daisy’s room. Just then, Hunter emerged from the kitchen, having drunk down his water. He choked, spraying droplets everywhere. He rubbed his eyes, then asked in a stunned tone,
“Jyu Parker, what the hell are you doing in my house at this hour?”
A single drop of water slid down his chin. He was still in workout clothes, having clearly just finished training. He wiped the moisture from his jaw with a towel and tracked Jiyu with his gaze.
Lauren, walking past him, pointed sharply at the floor in a stern voice. “Hunter Hamilton. Clean up the mess on the floor first, then shower.”
“Why is she here at this time?!”
Hunter ignored Lauren’s scolding and glared at Jiyu. He blinked, startled, and froze. Jiyu quickly lowered her head, but the red, swollen eyes and tear-streaked face she’d already tried to hide were impossible to conceal.
“Wait, your face… what happened—?”
Lauren cut him off with a warning glare. “Hunter, talk to me later.”
Lauren stood there, utterly baffled, and after a moment of watching them both, turned to guide Jiyu to the guest room. “Go shower and change into your pajamas first. I’ll bring you a glass of warm milk in about thirty minutes.”
Jiyu nodded. Lauren patted her shoulder, closed the door, and left.
Although Lauren called it a “small guest room,” it was actually larger than Jiyu’s own space. Elegant, classic floral wallpaper adorned the walls. Opposite a trundle bed with a built-in desk sat a small sofa and coffee table.
Following Lauren’s instructions, Jiyu showered and changed into her pajamas. Under the hot spray, her tear ducts malfunctioned. The tears refused to stop. The fresh loss, the ache of missing him, and the overwhelming anxiety were shaking her to her core.
Alan’s final image kept replaying in her mind—his gentle, sparkling eyes, the slightly rough beard, and the tender way he’d called her “Rebi-Dabi.” She couldn’t believe she would never see him again. After the shower, she cried so quietly she was afraid she might wake the neighbors.
Then came a knock.
Hunter, having showered and changed after catching a glimpse of Jiyu’s face, paced in front of the guest-room door, running a hand through the damp strands clinging to his forehead. He took a deep breath, fist raised to knock, then hesitated. The image of Jiyu’s ruined, tear-streaked face flashed before him. His chest tightened. It was the most alarming part—her usually calm, gentle eyes now looked shattered, like someone who had drowned. What on earth could he even say to her right now?
He chewed on the shocking news Lauren had just told him. It didn’t feel real. Though they hadn’t seen each other often, Mr. Parker had always been kind and gentle. It turned out his father had passed away suddenly, and Jiyu was grieving terribly. Lauren had practically shoved him out the door, telling him to comfort her as a friend with a warm glass of milk.
Hunter took another deep breath and knocked lightly on the door. He heard footsteps approaching—slow, dragging, like those of a ghost. The door cracked open. Seeing him, Jiyu inhaled sharply and staggered back. Her tear-reddened lashes and runny nose told him she was still crying. The ache in his chest was unbearable. He stepped inside and placed the mug of warm milk on the coffee table.
“Mom sent this for you.”
“Thank you…”
Her voice was barely a whisper. The sound sent another jolt through his chest. He turned to leave, then paused, took a long, shaky breath, and looked back. Jiyu flinched, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked up at him. After the humiliation of confessing and being rejected so brutally, he had consciously avoided her ever since. A woman he didn’t want was someone he himself didn’t want. He didn’t want to admit that Jyu Parker had managed to knock his confidence around quite a bit. He simply didn’t understand her. Why did he hate her so much? Was he crazy? I’m Hunter Hamilton, for God’s sake. But he couldn’t ask her directly. He was terrified it might look like he was trying too hard to be nice. This wasn’t the time for that. In a war zone you learn that even the enemy is human. Even if he hated her, he owed it to humanity to do the right thing. Jiyu lowered her head and rubbed her eyes. Hunter frowned. She’d already been rubbing so hard it looked painful. Her paper-thin skin would tear. He felt a strange pang of worry. “Mr. Parker… I mean, please accept my deepest condolences on your father. Rest well.”
As he spoke, their eyes met. Jiyu’s face crumpled. She let out a choked sob, covered her face with both hands, and wept bitterly. He found himself walking toward her without realizing it. He hated seeing her cry. “Don’t cry.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended. He felt awkward. “…Sorry.” Sorry for what? In a situation like this? The words were barely audible. But he knew her voice. He could understand things others couldn’t. “Don’t say sorry, idiot.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Damn it. He’d wanted to comfort her more gently, but it wasn’t working. “Ah… okay.” Her shoulders trembled as she sniffled her reply. Tears slipped between her fingers and traced down the back of her hand, leaving long wet trails. His chest tightened painfully. Why was he like this? It felt as if he’d been running at full speed without warm-up. The constriction in his chest was suffocating, yet he couldn’t pinpoint why. He wanted Jiyu to stop crying. “Stop crying.” He snapped, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her into a tight hug. He didn’t know how to comfort someone in this situation, but he knew that when Daisy cried, a hug usually fixed it. Jiyu stiffened like a statue, then took a few shuddering breaths, fighting for control. For a moment she seemed about to stop. Then she whispered his name, “Hunter…” and collapsed against him, sobbing. His shirt, still damp from the shower, grew hot and soaked with her tears. His chest tightened again. This wasn’t right. Why was she still crying? He closed his eyes and awkwardly patted her back. “Hah… you’re going to drive me crazy. Please stop crying…” But Jiyu clung to him like a lifeline and refused to stop. *** The week after Alan’s death remained vague and fragmented in Jiyu’s memory, like scenes from a nightmare. The news called his passing a “special report.” The autopsy showed natural causes—heart failure—but opinions on whether it was murder or suicide were split. Alan’s name, once a mere accounting department manager, surfaced alongside the Ponzi-scheme masterminds who had ruined everything. Alan’s cousin Jeremy flew in from Florida to handle the death certificate and funeral arrangements with his limited English. To avoid drawing the press, they cremate Alan at Green Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn without a service. Even though Jiyu begged him, Alan’s love refused to let her see his face one last time. “Remember him as he was when he was alive. Alan… he would want that.” The 180-pound man who had once weighed so much became a mere four pounds of ash in a small urn, handed over by the man she loved. For a week, his love had held back tears while Jiyu watched. Then he finally broke. He cradled the urn, sobbing so violently he terrified her. The man who had seemed far too young and vibrant for his years aged ten years in just a few days. The two widows left Alan behind and returned to their apartment on Fifth Avenue. It was time to clear out their first home.