Goodbye, My Dearest Enemy

Carolyn entered the immigration office with her documents in hand.

“Your application will take about a month to process, Ms Carolyn,” the officer told her. “It’ll go into effect automatically after that.”

When the official seal came down on her passport, a strange calm finally settled over her.

Carl hadn’t been home for days.

She was packing her suitcase when the hospital called.

“Mrs Carolyn? Your mother says she misses you,” the nurse said. “She’d like a visit.”

Carolyn hailed a cab right away.

Her mother was having a good day, relatively speaking. She’d even asked the nurse to brush her hair.

Seeing her, the dark clouds in Carolyn’s heart lifted a little. She walked over, took the comb from the nurse, and gently worked through the sparse strands left by the chemo.

Afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, warm and quiet.

“Where’s Carl been lately?” her mother asked softly. “Did you two have a fight?”

“Mom, no, of course not.” Carolyn laughed lightly, though the words tasted like ash. “He’s just swamped at work. Big project.”

She couldn’t let her mother worry.

Her mother sighed. “You worked yourself to the bone for him back then—even drank yourself sick. Thank goodness he made something of himself. Things are finally looking up.”

Lost in reminiscence, Natalie didn’t notice the bitterness that flickered across her daughter’s face.

“Mom, I need to use the restroom,” Carolyn said quickly, already turning away before she gave herself away.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at the dark circles under her eyes. Her mind drifted back to when she first met Carl.

He’d transferred in during their senior year. The teacher seated him right behind her. He fell for her at first sight and pursued her with single-minded intensity.

She once mentioned craving buns from the north side of town. From then on, Carl woke at three every morning, braved the snow on his bike, and rode from the south end—a three-hour round trip—just to hand her steaming buns before homeroom.

When her grades slipped, he stayed up three nights straight, annotating every problem on three hundred of her practice tests with detailed solutions.

Thanks to his relentless tutoring, they got into the same university.

Then the nightmare hit. Carl’s father got hooked on gambling, lost Carl’s entire tuition, and racked up massive debts. Chased by loan sharks, he fell from a building and died.

That night, Carl told her he couldn’t go to university with her. He had to work in a factory to pay off the debts.

Carolyn couldn’t bear to see him throw his future away. A talent like his deserved more.

So she spent that summer working hostess jobs, drinking with clients, earning enough to cover Carl’s living expenses for four years.

A knock on the bathroom door snapped her back.

“Carolyn? Are you alright in there? You’ve been a while.”

She dried her face and stepped out. “I’m fine, Mom. Just got a call. I should head back—need to make dinner for Carl.”

Before she left, her mother said, “Invite Carl over for a meal tomorrow. It’s been too long.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.” She fought back the lump in her throat, hoping her mother wouldn’t see how pale she’d gone.

Back in the cold, empty house, she texted Carl: *Need to talk. Can you come home?*

He replied instantly: *Okay.*

He walked in at three in the morning, the air around him heavy with a woman’s perfume.

Seeing Carolyn on the couch, he said, “My assistant mentioned you visited Mom today. How is she?”

“She’s good. Says she hasn’t seen you in ages and wants to have a meal together. Are you free?”

“Sure. I haven’t visited her in a while either. I know a quiet private kitchen in the suburbs—the food’s light, good for patients. We’ll go there. Tomorrow evening work?”

She hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. She gave a small nod.

Carl looked at his wife’s gentle profile, her hair loosely tied back, a few strands falling lazily against her neck. A wave of tenderness washed over him.

He leaned in with a soft smile, aiming for her lips. Carolyn instinctively turned her head away. To cover the motion, she reached up to help him out of his coat.

“I’ll run you a bath. You should get cleaned up.” Almost pushing him toward the bathroom, she wanted to avoid any further contact.

As water began to run inside, she picked up the coat he’d just shed and tossed it into the laundry hamper.

A folded piece of paper slipped from the pocket. Her heart plummeted when she caught sight of the familiar hospital letterhead.

It was her mother’s hospital.

A cold dread gripped her. Had something happened to her mother’s condition?

Hands trembling, Carolyn unfolded the paper.

The words **‘Early Pregnancy Diagnosis Certificate’** stabbed into her vision.

And in the patient name field, printed clearly: **Karen Karen.**