Chapter 5: The Blue Hoodie

I packed my belongings alone.

Sweatshirts, jackets, boots, all sorts of things.

Just as I picked up a blue hoodie and hesitated, Jason walked in.

He frowned. “The senator’s residence has everything. No need to bring these shabby things.”

I pressed my lips and asked, “Not even this?”

Jason glanced at the clothes in my hand, his expression indifferent.

He did not remember.

I remembered him shivering in this hoodie, clinging to his coffee mug, back when we barely had heat. On the way to exile, Jason fell ill and was especially afraid of the cold.

Last winter, it was so cold in Flagstaff that even fleece wasn’t enough. I trekked up the mountain in the snow to get two wolf pelts from a hunter. When I came down, my legs were almost numb from the cold.

Then I stayed up several nights to make him winter clothes.

At the cuffs, I embroidered two clusters of green bamboo.

I had never learned embroidery, but learned it for him.

Jason’s lips moved, but besides disdain, there was no other expression on his face.

I smiled and put the clothes aside.

At this moment, Natalie came over, her voice as clear as a songbird:

“Jason, look, this is silk from the South. Help me choose which color looks best.”

“This material is light and soft, quite rare.”

Natalie walked in gracefully. Now that she didn’t have to smell pancakes, her face was rosy. Standing next to Jason, she looked like a delicate flower.

She saw my expression and fell silent.

She asked timidly, “Jason… did I come at a bad time?”

She glanced at the men’s clothes on the table and explained, “Melissa may not know, but the senator’s clothing has strict standards. Not just any clothes can be worn.”

“These… if worn out, would be laughed at and disgrace Jason.”

My eyes flickered as I looked out the window at the maple trees and slanting sun, making the two of them look like a perfect golden couple, both proud and privileged.

Jason said, “You’re a small-town girl; you don’t know D.C. rules. In the future, let Natalie teach you these things.”

I gave a bitter smile and replied softly, “I understand.”

Natalie smiled at me, gentle and considerate: “My brother left this to me. I’ll do it well.”

Jason’s voice was full of affection: “Thanks for your trouble.”

After they left, I took out all of Jason’s clothes, personal items, and writing tools, sorted them, and packed them into a box.

He didn’t want them. Fine, I could sell them for some money.

I moved with steady hands, but my heart felt like a rag being wrung dry. I folded each shirt as if I were folding away old hopes.