When Ash arrived at the bar the next evening, her friends were already there, sitting at a round wooden table by the corner. 

Saadiya greeted her warmly with a pat on the back. Ash had met the playful tomboy through her queer network and they had instantaneously clicked. 

Josh winked at her and offered her a drink. The dandy was a dear friend from middle school who had never left her side all these years. 

Her best friend Etienne gave her a bear hug, making them look like kids who were overjoyed to see each other. He had jumped on the first train to London as soon as he heard the news that morning. 

“You’re going to bounce back in no time. You’re a rockstar. It’s their loss,” Josh said, clinking glasses with her.

Saadiya nodded. “Dude, you need a distraction to make you forget about all of this.” She elbowed her and, with a head flick, gestured toward the cute brunette sitting at the bar. 

Ash rolled her eyes and jiggled her leg under the table. 

The tomboy grabbed her by the shoulders and locked eyes with her. “You’ve been burying yourself under a pile of work for long enough. No more excuses. When was the last time you got laid?”

Ash grimaced and ran her hand through her opulent brown hair, revealing a brighter bronze lock that was hidden right below the surface. “You know I suck at this whole dating thing, let alone picking up girls. But yes, that woman’s hot,” she conceded. 

When Ash came back from the bathroom, Saadiya was at the bar, chatting up the brunette, while Josh was gladly getting hit on by a muscular man with an impossibly perfect tan. 

Etienne waved at her. He had his jacket on and was holding a rolled cigarette. She joined him outside. 

The pub’s terrace was packed. They sat in silence, watching the other patrons. Etienne blew smoke into the warm summer air. He wasn’t only her best friend but also her cousin who had always supported her from a very young age, despite her being considered the black sheep of their family. They understood each other. He could tell that she felt bad about losing her job, even if she put on a facade. 

He ground his cigarette under his foot. “I’ve seen you go through a lot of stuff. Remember when you announced your wedding to your parents?”

“Hah. That was quite the shitstorm…”

Ash knew her parents had never accepted who she was. They had made it very clear when they had decided not to attend her wedding four years ago. Her ‘inclinations’ were a disgrace to them. By deciding to marry another woman, she had made it official. She had made them lose face. After that, she didn’t speak with them for years. 

In fact, she hadn’t had a real conversation with her father since childhood. The language barrier and the cultural divide between them were too great. He was stuck in the past, refusing to integrate into their new home country, while she felt more European than Chinese. And after years of accumulated unresolved resentment, it had become the norm to have her mother act as a proxy between them.

The ice only began to melt when she landed her last position. The flashy job title and the substantial paycheck somehow managed to make up for being a hopeless lesbian. But no more. She hadn't told them that she had quit. She was in no particular hurry to fall from grace with them, for the nth time. 

Sensing Ash’s lowering spirits, Etienne clasped her shoulder. “Hey, you’ll always have me and your siblings, you know that, right?” 

Ash nodded slowly. She purposefully didn’t mention that she had a call with her brother and sisters earlier that day. They bombarded her with questions, asking for details about how her last job ended and when she’d be moving back to Paris now that she no longer had ties in London. She had never liked going into mundane details, especially when it came to remembering unpleasant events.

She remembered flinging her phone across the desk and sinking into her chair right after the call, feeling drained. Usually, she was strong enough to withstand her family’s invasiveness. But not anymore. Her armor had worn out. At that moment, she felt very fortunate to be living across the Channel, far away from them. 

“You always find a way to get back on your feet. I truly admire you for that,” Etienne said, interrupting Ash’s train of thought.   

Although she knew he was saying this to cheer her up, this paradoxically made her feel worse. She hated how people expected her to bounce back as if it was easy. 

This time, she thought that she had finally become someone, that she had managed to prove everyone wrong. She had believed that she had made it, at last. But there she was, back to square one, and she had no more energy left to fight. All of these years of tough grind and self-improvement had been for nothing. 

When she came back home, she slumped on her couch. She hated pity parties, especially when they were thrown for her.  

Now alone in her dim living room, Ash looked wearily at the big brown envelope lying on the coffee table. It was addressed to Bérénice Sun. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like her real name. It was just so French and so impractical, especially when working abroad. After years of hearing her name being butchered—‘Bernies’ was the worst—, she had decided to go by Ash. Short, international, hard to mess up. 

She poked at the covering. She knew what was in there. It was the divorce papers. Anne-Sophie had sent them right before Ash quit Helios. 

“Fucking perfect timing,” she muttered to herself. 

They had been separated for almost two years. The same duration as their short-lived marriage. They had met at her previous company, fell in love, left their respective long-time partners, and tied the knot, thinking they would live happily ever after. 

Until Anne-Sophie’s several infidelities. 

Looking back, perhaps she should’ve listened to her friends and family who cautioned that things were going a bit too fast. She should’ve seen the signs. But she was too in love and too blind to see them. She had ticked the box ‘Find the one and marry her’ and had moved on to her other projects, like building a career and buying this apartment.

Her phone buzzed. Another call from Anne-Sophie. She mercilessly pressed the red phone icon. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with that. 

Not today. 

Probably not ever.