EVERGLOW

XIV. When they make a hot mess

This did not make the slightest bit of sense at all.

Yue parked the rental outside the sprawling bungalow tucked at the end of a sloping driveway in one of Sichuan's exclusive suburbian villages. She stared up at the modern structure of glass and grey concrete perched on elevated ground.

It had been Dylan's wedding present for her, and he had been proud of it. The last time she'd seen it, it was through a blur of tears at her rearview mirror and her hands had clutched the steering wheel in her resolve not to turn back.

After that nerve-wracking exchange with Madame Zhu, she'd taken the next flight out, grabbed a rental from the airport and driven straight to the place she'd called home until two years ago. Now that she was here, she realized that in the two days since they'd seen each other, she still hadn't figured out what to say to him.

She knew though, that she will not give in. She stared at the brown envelope on the seat beside her. She was going to make sure she left this place with his signature on those blasted papers, no matter what. She did not trust Madame Zhu and if there was a way to completely do away with that agreement she would take it.

Unbidden, the photo Madame Zhu showed flashed in her memory and she froze.

But that was different, she reminded herself. That had been a month after they fell out. He might still have loved her then.

Now he didn't. Now he had his women.

Her nails dug into the soft leather of the steering wheel. She looked up and angrily wiped away the moisture on her cheeks. She had no time for this. He did not deserve her tears, nor her guilt.

A flash of movement on the front door caught her eye, and she choked back a sob as she watched a woman who looked barely twenty, flip her long jet-black hair, rummage through her shoulder bag and walk leisurely towards a red compact parked ahead of her.

He had the gall to bring his women into their house!

Mindless of the fresh tears running down her face, she grabbed the envelope and stomped out of her car. The compact had already driven away, but she'd bet her lovely New York apartment the scumbag was still inside.

She barely remembered how she climbed up the steep pavement. She dug into the doorbell on the frame as violently as an index finger could. She should have insisted on that heavy iron door knocker she'd wanted. At least she would have had the satisfaction of banging on the steel-enforced heavy oak door. But he had insisted on a lame doorbell!

It was almost eleven in the evening. She hoped he was in bed. And that the loud cling clang of the doorbell she'd hated roused him from sleep. She didn't stop pressing even as she heard bolts being undone on the other side, until the door opened to reveal a dead on his feet Dylan Wang in grey sweatpants.

"What the fvck?"

The fury on his face for being roused was not nearly enough to pacify her.