novelnext Chapter 6: Finding an Apartment Was Harder Than I Thought
Chapter 6: Finding an Apartment Was Harder Than I Thought
Growing up in the Reynolds household, I never had pocket money.
If I needed anything, I just told the housekeeper. As long as it wasn't outrageous, it'd be taken care of.
When I moved into the Sullivan house, Mr. Sullivan began giving me a monthly allowance—50,000 yuan.
It sounded generous, but it had to stretch far: Percy's medical bills, his therapy, custom meal plans, and the salaries and expenses of the household staff.
After budgeting everything down to the last coin, I was left with barely a few thousand.
So when it came time to find a place of my own, my choices were... limited.
Two days of searching later, I found a small, reasonably priced apartment. It wasn't much, but it was mine.
As I was packing, Percy came home earlier than usual.
Since I'd brought up divorce, he'd been oddly... softer. Sometimes he even tried to make small talk.
He stood at the doorway, pointing to a pile of folded clothes. "Are you throwing those out?"
"No," I replied, not looking up. "Just packing."
He frowned. "Toss them. They're outdated."
"You don't know anything about fashion," I said without heat.
"They look old-fashioned," he insisted.
I paused. "Then what do you think looks good?"
He thought about it. "Emily's style."
"You should dress like her."
"I've got money. I can buy you new clothes," he offered.
My eyes drifted to the white dress at the top of the suitcase. My fingers stilled.
He had picked that one out for me last year.
When I tried it on, he'd looked at me like I hung the moon. "You look beautiful," he'd whispered, barely able to speak.
Now the dress hadn't changed. But clearly, his heart had.
"No need," I said quietly, folding it one last time. "I like my style."
His eyes darkened. Frustration flashed across his face.
"Suit yourself."
He turned and slammed the door so hard, the windows rattled.
That night, he never came out of his room. And he didn't know I left quietly, dragging the same 24-inch suitcase and faded blue backpack I'd arrived with.
He was right about one thing—this had never been my home.
And the things that were truly mine? Pathetically few.
After settling into the apartment for a night, I bought a train ticket to Spring City.
When I was little, my mom used to say, "Once we save enough, I'll take you to see the world."
After she passed, that dream became mine.
But life kept pulling me into new cages.
Traveling with Percy was impossible. Any change in routine triggered panic. He couldn't sleep, couldn't eat.
We once tried a weekend getaway. We turned back halfway through.
So I kept saving. But saving money didn't mean freedom. Not when you were always someone else's lifeline.
This time, there was no one left to turn me back.
I finally stood at the foot of Cangshan Mountain.
The wind off Erhai Lake swept through the rice fields. I rode a bicycle through winding paths, brushing past golden wheat and blooming wildflowers.
Above me, clouds drifted lazily over snow-tipped peaks.
In that moment, the suffocating rhythm of my life cracked and fell away.
I was useless. And for the first time in years—I felt alive.
I met others escaping city life: a med student burnt out by endless night shifts. A traveler quietly battling a chronic illness.
We shared stories under starlit skies. Strangers connected for a heartbeat before scattering like mountain streams.
One morning, I waited alone at Longkan Pier to watch the sun rise. The lake shimmered gold, rippling gently in the breeze.
I hadn't cried through the years of the Reynolds' coldness. Not even when Percy humiliated and discarded me.
But standing there, in silence, I let myself cry.
So this... this was freedom.
No alarms. No schedules. Just hours lost watching the sky touch the mountaintops.
Two weeks later, I turned my phone back on.
Dozens of missed calls—my father, Mr. Sullivan... Percy.
On the return train, I finally called Mr. Sullivan.
"Sophia," his voice cracked, rough with worry. "You need to come back."
"It's Percy," he said, exhaling heavily. "He's... not doing well."