CHAPTER 6 THE LAST PAGE
There, a small handwritten list awaited him. The words were neat, though the ink had faded in places. At the top of the page, in her precise
handwriting, were the words: “Future To-Do List.”
His eyes fell on the first entry.
Age 19: I met a really nice man a few months ago victor. He helped carry my dad to the hospital on his back when Dad had a heart attack. Dad said he seemed like a good man. So… I married him. He seems nice.
Kind, too. Even though he’s a CEO, he didn’t hesitate to carry my dad on his back that day. Maybe, after marriage, we’ll fall in love for real. Maybe we’ll go to Paris for our honeymoon.
Victor’s fingers trembled slightly on the page. His own memory of that day flickered in his mind the weight of the old man on his back,Genevieve's
terrified face in the hospital corridor, her soft voice thanking him repeatedly.
He kept reading.
Age 20: victor might like the collection of watches on Regent Street. On our first anniversary, we’ll go to Harrington & Co., that luxury watch boutique I always pass by. I’ll give him the gold watch I really like. He has such nice hands the watch will suit him perfectly.
Victor swallowed hard. He remembered their first anniversary; he had been in another city, too busy to come home. The gift she had planned had never been given.
Age 21: I don’t think I want to have kids this young. Is it okay to choose not to? I’m kind of scared. But maybe if Victor wants, we can have one… and then maybe another when I’m older.Mom and Dad must be missing me a lot. They always say that when I'm home, that’s when the house feels alive. Maybe by now, I’ll buy a place near theirs so victor and I and our kids can live close to them.
By now, victor will surely smile more at me, at my parents. Mom has such a warm smile. Victor does too, though I mostly saw it on TV. He doesn’t
smile much in real life… not even when we went to sign our marriage papers.
His heart twisted. He remembered the cold government office, the way he had signed the papers without looking at her even once.
Victor's hands clenched tighter on the album. He turned the page again.
Age 22: Victor really likes Christmas. There are so many pictures on the wall of him with his friends during Christmas. I think by next Christmas, he and I will know each other better and celebrate it
together. Mrs. Maisel said he’s always been very fond of celebrating Christmas with his friends and family. And now that I’ll be his family, won’t he take me with him too?
Since it’s his favorite time of the year, and by now we’ll have been together for four years, I’ll surprise him with a special Christmas party. I’ll decorate
everything myself so he can have fun with the people he loves the most.
Maybe by now, he and I will love each other a lot too. I really hope so. I’ve never had anyone other than my parents love me before. Having one more person who loves me just as much would be amazing.
Underneath all the notes, there was another entry but this one was in a different color. The ink was fresh, darker than the others.
Age 23 : .
There was only a single dot, pressed deep into the paper, as if the pen had lingered there in hesitation. The ink was a different color fresh,
recent like it had been added just days ago. It looked as though she had held the pen there for a long time, wanting to write something…but unable to.
Mrs. Maisel’s voice broke the silence, soft and earnest.I saw those photographs. And the notes at the end. Mrs. Hale had listed and attached all the small and big things about you. What you like, what you don’t. She even attached photographs when you didn’t like a dish and
then wrote a note to never make that dish again in the house, even for herself.”
Victor slowly lifted the album again, his eyes fixed on the notes. His face was pale, troubled, a tight coil of tension running through his body.
Mrs. Maisel continued quietly, almost pleading now. “I wonder,” she said softly, “why would someone who doesn’t care about you do all this? Care for the small and big things you like, picture a future with you? Mr. Hale … if you lose Madam, you might regret it for the rest of your life.”
Victor's eyes stayed glued to the notes, his fingers gripping the album until his knuckles turned white.
For a heartbeat, the air between them was heavy with silence. Then victor eyes flickered, hardening like steel. His fingers tightened violently on the
album.
“I won’t regret a fucking thing,” he said in a harsh, cold voice. “I haven’t regretted anything in my entire life. What is a woman?” His jaw clenched.
“She’s nothing.”
He stood abruptly, tossing the album aside onto the table as if it were nothing. It landed with a heavy thud, the pages fanning open slightly as it
slid to a stop.
He turned toward Mrs. Maisel, his voice colder than ice as he said, “From now on, no one in this house will even say her name. If she wants to die on the streets, then let her die alone!”
And without another word, he stormed out of the study, his footsteps echoing through the empty house.