Chapter 2

On my first day as a delivery driver, I saw every kind of person this city had to offer.

That morning, I left home at 7:00 am and dropped Hailey off at kindergarten.

At the entrance, she grabbed onto the hem of my jacket and refused to let go. "Daddy, can you pick me up this afternoon?"

"Of course. I promise I'll come get you," I replied.

Then I hopped on my scooter and headed downtown to start running deliveries.

My first delivery was to an office worker in a high-rise who had ordered a black coffee.

When I brought it to her, she didn't even look up. She simply took the coffee and closed the door. Above her head was a line of text that read, "29 years old. Liver cancer in 12 years."

My second delivery was for an elderly woman at the hospital. She had ordered a bowl of oatmeal.

When I reached the hospital room, a gray-haired lady came out and took the bag from me with trembling hands. Above her head was another line of text.

"71 years old. Heart attack in five months."

I bit my lip and kept quiet. There was nothing I could do. Besides, it wasn't my place to interfere.

…

By lunchtime, the delivery rush was in full swing.

After running 12 orders back-to-back, my legs were aching. So I sat on the curb and ate some bread.

Just then, a news alert popped up on my phone. "Prominent businesswoman Susanna Jenkins has died of organ failure at the age of 69."

Susanna Jenkins…

I knew that name all too well. Back in high school, her daughter, Kelly Rhodes, had been my classmate.

One day, Kelly invited me over, and I met her grandmother. I'd told her that her grandmother had eight hours left to live.

And sure enough, Mrs. Campbell held on for exactly eight hours.

Afterward, Susanna gave me five million dollars. That money got me through university and made me believe my life was finally going to get better.

But a year after graduation, I married Caroline. She was a woman who had fought her way out of a small rural town and had always been determined to climb the social ladder.

The first time I met John, he'd asked, "How many houses do you own?"

When I told him I didn't own any, the smile on his face faltered.

Back then, Caroline said, "Dad, Gavin treats me well, and he's got savings. That's enough."

Was it really enough, though?

Over our seven-year marriage, I spent every penny of what remained on Caroline. It paid for her grad school, funded her startup, and bought the luxury car she used to keep up appearances.

By the end of it, not a single dollar remained.

Yet, in return, all I got was an Instagram post from Marencia with the caption, "Forever starts with you."

…

At 2:00 pm, my phone rang. It was Caroline.

"Gavin, you still have Hailey's insurance card, right? Send it to me. I need to use it."

"Hailey's insurance card? What do you need it for?" I asked.

Caroline replied, "I'm pregnant. I need it for my prenatal appointments. I can't find my own insurance card, so I'll just use Hailey's for now and use whatever coverage is left on it."

We'd been divorced for less than a week, and she was already pregnant. I didn't need to do the math to know when that had happened.

"Caroline, you cheated on me while we were still married."

Her voice remained calm as she said, "Don't make it sound so ugly. Louis and I didn't officially get together until you moved out."

Louis Campbell was her young new boyfriend.

I stayed on the line, waiting for Caroline to ask about Hailey. Even just asking how Hailey was doing would have been enough.

But she never did.

Instead, she went on, "Mail the insurance card today. Send it express. I'll pay for the shipping when it arrives."

Having said that, Caroline hung up.

I put my phone down.

The rain had stopped. Sunlight broke through the clouds, falling across my soaked delivery jacket. I stood up, got back on my scooter, and continued running deliveries.