Erasing Yesterday
That was the final image of Vivienne and Dominic together. They had never looked particularly affectionate in these captures, yet each frame held an anchor of meaning she could no longer deny.
Most derived from corporate gatherings, while others recorded casual moments they had briefly shared. A few were candid shots she had quietly stolen during their two years of marriage, alongside those rare occasions when Dominic had performed the role of a devoted husband solely to appease his father.
Despite their hollow origins, those memories still stung, but Vivienne was entirely prepared to release them. She had never imagined facing a day where she would abandon her own marriage in the exact manner her mother had years ago.
A heavy tear broke from her lashes, sliding down to strike the glowing screen of her phone.
Today marked the first time in memory she had missed paying respects at her mother's resting place, a bitter absence forced upon her entirely by the necessity of shielding the fragile life developing within her.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry I have to say goodbye this way," Vivienne murmured to herself, biting hard into her lower lip to ground against the sharp ache as fresh moisture blurred her vision.
She was severing every thread of her past, walking away from the man she had loved across years of silent endurance. Only now did the full weight of her reality settle in.
Her entire existence had revolved so tightly around Dominic that she struggled to recall a single distinct choice made purely for her own happiness.
Every step she had taken, every compromise she had accepted, had been calculated solely to secure his affection—efforts that ultimately proved utterly futile against a heart she could never truly reach.
As the aircraft surged down the runway and lifted into the gray sky, she settled back against the headrest, closing her eyes after sliding the phone deep into her carry-on.
She harbored no expectation of a call from him, having already blocked his number entirely. Through the small cabin window, Vivienne cast one final, lingering look at New York City, the birthplace of her adult life, now abandoned because it held nothing left for her save echoes.
"Pardon me, miss, but you have remarkable hands. Are you a surgeon?" a middle-aged woman seated beside her inquired politely, prompting Vivienne to slowly shake her head in denial.
"No, I'm not," Vivienne answered in a muted tone, turning her face away toward the window the moment the stranger offered a warm smile, allowing her tears to slip free without constraint.
Once again, an offhand observation had reopened the raw memory of her abandoned path and the disastrous choice she had made. If only she had heeded her mother's wisdom instead of surrendering her ambition to become a celebrated surgeon.
Her mother had wasted away from stomach cancer, enduring a silent agony that Vivienne knew was compounded by the desperate, unfulfilled prayer that her husband might finally visit her hospital room during her final hours.
He had chosen instead to remain entirely absorbed in his mistress, leaving her to die in clinical isolation. The pain remained razor-sharp, yet she forced herself to swallow it down.
At least her mother rested now, free from the daily torture of her husband's betrayal, no longer staring mournfully at old photographs or punishing herself with false hope.
She had been a fool to willingly replicate that exact blueprint of misery over the past two years. Her marriage to Dominic had effectively smothered her medical career, as the demands of the Prescott Prime Core corporation invariably superseded everything else.
She had poured every ounce of her energy into sustaining his empire while starving her own aspirations, but that chapter was definitively closed. Australia promised an absolute reset.
As the jet touched down on the tarmac, the woman who had shared her row stood up immediately to retrieve her overhead luggage. When Vivienne rose right behind her, she leaned in to catch the passenger's attention.
"You're right, I am a surgeon. Not yet, but I have what it takes to become an exceptional one. I am not giving up again." The fierce resolve burning in her gaze prompted the woman to smile and nod approvingly.
"That's wonderful," the passenger replied before turning to stride down the aisle, her travel bag swinging rhythmically at her side.
Vivienne exhaled a long, steady breath and followed the flow of disembarking travelers. Once inside the terminal, she pulled her phone from her bag to dial Daphne's number, letting it ring out three times to a frustratingly blank silence.
Daphne was supposed to rendezvous with her right at the arrival gate, yet no familiar face appeared, sending a sudden spike of anxiety through her chest.
Australia was a massive, completely unfamiliar continent where she knew not a single soul, leaving her entirely unmoored.
Perhaps Daphne had encountered an unavoidable delay; there was simply no logical reason for her calls to go ignored. Tucking the device away, Vivienne continued walking until she exited the terminal doors into the cool evening air, signaling a cab idling by the curb after waiting nearly an hour.
"Any decent hotel nearby, please," she instructed as she slid into the back seat.
The driver offered a knowing nod, reading her tourist fatigue instantly. It was the ideal opening to inflate the fare far beyond standard metered rates.
Roughly thirty minutes later, the sedan finally drifted to a halt outside a modest mid-city lodge, the journey prolonged by heavy arterial traffic.
Vivienne pushed the door open, stepping out onto the pavement before reaching into her tote for currency.
"That'll be an extra twenty on top of the meter, ma'am," the middle-aged driver announced over his shoulder.
Vivienne merely sighed, too emotionally exhausted to argue, and extracted a few additional bills from her purse.
Handing over the money, she hoisted her strap higher across her shoulder and walked toward the sliding glass doors of the lobby.
Approaching the front desk, she requested a standard room, but the instant she unzipped her handbag to retrieve her wallet, her fingers brushed against a cold, hard piece of plastic—Dominic's black corporate card.
"Good God!" Vivienne gasped under her breath, hastily yanking it into the light. Her own personal card rested right beside it, yet she remembered sliding Dominic's sleek metal card out during her final frantic expenses before boarding.
What if he possessed the tracking capability to trace her digital footprint straight to this exact register?
"Will you be paying now, miss?" the desk attendant prompted, snapping Vivienne out of her escalating panic.
"Yes, absolutely," she stammered, shoving the black card deep into the interior lining of her bag and frantically swapping it for her personal debit card.
The clerk swiped the chip, the transaction clearing cleanly before handing over a heavy key card.
"Take the elevator to the fifth floor, make a left, and room 512 is right at the end of the hall."
Vivienne nodded tightly and hurried toward the lifts. Arriving at the designated door, she pressed the plastic against the sensor until the internal lock clicked open.
She stepped inside, dropping her bags near the threshold before walking straight toward the edge of the queen-sized bed, her mind instantly pulled back to a jarring vignette from earlier that afternoon.
The memory replayed with vivid clarity, not because she wished to dwell on it, but because the pathetic young man she had witnessed at the terminal bore an uncanny reflection of her own recent heartbreak.
While ordinary bystanders had likely registered nothing unusual, she had understood the scene implicitly. She had watched the young man stand frozen as his fiancée embraced and kissed another man right in the middle of the crowded concourse.
It took zero effort to deduce the nature of their relationship; the skimpy red dress worn by the woman contrasted sharply with the heavy diamond engagement ring on her finger, while the man holding a neglected bouquet stared on in absolute devastation.
"So much for love," Vivienne whispered into the sterile quiet of the hotel room, straightening up from the mattress. If only that stranger possessed the raw courage to walk away from his unfaithful partner as decisively as she had, perhaps he might salvage a shred of peace despite the agony it would cause.
Shedding her travel-weary garments, Vivienne gathered fresh clothes and headed straight for the bathroom to scour away the residue of the long journey and clear her head for her next move in this foreign land.
Roughly half an hour later, she emerged wrapped in a cloud of steam as the sharp ringing of her phone cut through the silence of the room. She snatched the device from the nightstand, glancing at the screen to find Daphne's name flashing brightly.
"ly," Vivienne muttered under her breath, swiping the accept icon, though her greeting was instantly preempted by a breathless rush of panic from the other end.
"Vivienne, I am so, so, so, so sorry—please tell me exactly where you are right now, and I'll come get you this very second!"