Part 1The Fourth Wheel

After graduating from college, five of us rented an apartment together.

On our first day moving in, we made a rule: every Friday, no matter how busy we were, we had to gather for a proper family-style dinner.

The first Friday, my cousin Summer was swamped with a project and couldn't make it back on time. My older brother, Ryan, waved it off. "No rush. What kind of family dinner would it be without Summer?"

The second Friday, her best friend was having a birthday, and she was running late. My boyfriend, Luke, said, "We’ll wait. Worst case, we just eat it as a late-night snack."

This Friday was my turn to work overtime until nine. When I finally pushed the front door open, the apartment was thick with the rich, savory aroma of a hot pot—yet the dining table was neatly set with exactly four bowls and sets of chopsticks.

I froze for a second, then walked over to the kitchen cabinet to get a fifth set.

Ryan poked his head out from the kitchen.

"Don't bother getting another one. There are only four of us eating tonight. We figured you'd be stuck at work, so I only bought enough ingredients for four people."

Standing by the table with the utensils in my hand, I suddenly didn't know what to do with myself.

Luke pulled me down into a chair.

"It's fine, just make do with us tonight. Next time you need to work late, give us a heads-up so we can plan ahead."

Summer giggled and nodded, "Guess I’ll have to let you guys know in advance if I’m running late next time, too."

Sam, a longtime friend of ours who lived with us, dropped a slice of beef into Summer’s bowl.

"What are you chiming in for? When have we ever missed your share?"

The room erupted in laughter. Only deep inside me did everything turn dead quiet.

I ate that meal in near total silence—a single leaf of napa cabbage, one shiitake mushroom, and a single piece of beef.

When the table was finally cleared, Sam said, "Mia, next Friday, the five of us are going to have a real, proper get-together."

I didn't say anything, swallowing that silent "sure" down into my throat.

Since this home didn't even have room to set an extra pair of chopsticks for me, then before next Friday rolled around, I should probably just quietly step away from this table.

...

As soon as we finished eating and I put down my chopsticks—before I could even stand up—Ryan stacked all four bowls right in front of me.

"Mia, can you wash these?"

He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Luke, Sam, and I spent the whole evening prepping the food, and you didn't lift a finger. It's your turn."

It was true; I hadn't lifted a finger. I hadn't gotten back until nine. Not a single ingredient on that table had been bought by me, nor had any of it been intended for me. Even my chair had been squeezed in at the last second.

I gave a soft "okay" and started gathering the bowls.

Summer stood up too, rolling up her sleeves at a leisurely pace. "Ryan, let me do it. I ate the most."

Ryan pressed her back down, a doting smile on his face. "You stay put. Those hands of yours are meant for drawing design drafts; if you get them ruined by dish soap and grease, what are we going to do?"

"It's fine, I can wash them clean."

Luke patted the sofa cushion beside him. "Don't fight her for it. Let your sister wash them. Since when is the youngest sister supposed to do the dirty work?"

I was the older sister, and Summer was the younger one, but there was only a two-month gap between us.

Summer glanced at me, then at the stack of dishes, before letting out an exaggerated, put-upon sigh. "Oh, fine."

She sat back down on the sofa and stuck her tongue out at Luke. "You've got a sweet tooth."

Luke laughed. "Can't help it when you're this charming."

The room filled with laughter all over again.

I stood by the sink and turned on the faucet. The water was icy. Patches of grease floated on the surface, along with a few stray pieces of vegetable leaf.

Summer’s hands were meant for drawing design drafts.

So were mine.

Her hands couldn't touch grease, but mine were meant to wash dishes for the whole household.

I washed the bowls one by one, put them back in the cabinet, closed the door, and dried my hands.

Out in the living room, they were already planning what to do tomorrow.

Ryan's voice drifted in. "Mia, tomorrow's Saturday. The five of us are going out for dim sum."

They had already reached a verdict without asking me—it was just an announcement.

"Okay," I murmured quietly.

I didn't go out right away. I leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter for a moment, a heavy tightness pressing against my chest.

I unlocked my phone and opened my manager's chat window. I typed a few words, deleted them, typed them again, and deleted them once more.

In the end, I closed the chat.

Saturday morning, my alarm went off, and I hit dismiss.

"Luke, wake me up in five minutes."

No answer.

I opened my eyes; the other side of the bed was empty.

I walked out of the bedroom, and the entire apartment was empty.

I dropped a message into our five-person group chat:

Where are you guys?

Luke replied:

Awake? Same old spot, hurry up.

Not a single person had bothered to explain why the four of them had vanished together.

The "same old spot" was that dim sum diner at the end of the alley.

By the time I got there, they had already started eating. The table by the window only fit four people, and the four of them had filled every seat.

Summer saw me and waved. "Mia, over here!"

She squeezed in closer to Luke, forcing herself to carve out half a seat for me at the very corner of the table.

I sat down, my elbow practically pressed against the wall, my chopsticks barely able to reach the dipping sauce in the center.

"What took you so long?" Ryan picked up a piece of rice noodle roll without looking up.

"Heavy traffic, I walked slow."

"We thought you weren't coming, so we went ahead. As for your share..." He paused. "Never mind, just order your own."

I got up, went to the counter to order a portion of rice noodle rolls, and brought it back to that cramped corner.

Luke pushed a steamer basket of shrimp dumplings toward Summer.

"Aren't these your favorite? Eat them while they're hot."

Summer took a bite and mumbled, "Luke waited in line for forty minutes for these. Mia, you should try one."

I looked at the shrimp dumplings—sitting much further away than the soy sauce dish—and didn't even bother reaching.

Nobody asked what I wanted.

I kept my head down and finished my noodles. It cost four dollars, which I paid for myself.

On the walk home, Summer held up her phone and cheered, "Look at these! Aren't my edits great?"

I tapped on her feed; she had posted a new nine-photo grid.

The caption read: Our sunrise.

Nine photos of the four of them standing together on a mountain peak. No me.

I stopped walking, finally understanding why they had all disappeared together this morning.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

As soon as I asked, everyone turned to look at me.

The air froze for a few seconds.

Summer looked timid.

Sam broke the silence first. "Don't overthink it. We just decided last night in the chat."

Luke chimed in. "We didn't mean to leave you out. We saw you were sleeping and didn't have the heart to wake you."

Except I hadn't known a thing about it.

I hadn't even been given the choice of whether to go.

Ryan wrapped an arm around Summer. "It's just a sunrise. If you want to see it, we'll go with you tomorrow morning."

"All right, let's get back."

The four of them walked ahead in step.

I took out my phone and opened the five-person group chat. There was no chat history about seeing the sunrise this morning.

If it wasn't in this chat, it meant it was in another one.

A chat without me.

I opened my department manager's chat window once more.

I typed out the words I hadn't sent the night before.

Manager, about that project assignment in New York—I'd like to take it.

My finger hovered over the send button for a second, then pressed down.

Luke noticed I had fallen way behind and walked back to my side.

"Don't be mad. Next time, the five of us will go together."

I nodded and didn't answer.

I knew sunrises happened every single day.

But a sunrise with "the five of us" would never happen again.