"I feel he's changed."
Mei sat motionless for a while, the silence between her and Chen Rong stretching like a thin wire ready to snap. Her hands were clasped tightly, knuckles white, the gold ring on her finger glinting dully under the office light.
"It was my first love," she began, almost to herself. Her voice trembled faintly, and her eyes drifted to the rain running down the windowpane. "Meeting Li Hao changed my whole world. Every mundane day felt special with him."
Chen Rong said nothing. She had learned that silence was sometimes the gentlest way to let grief unfold.
Mei's gaze unfocused as though a veil had fallen over the present. "I still remember the first time we kissed," she murmured.
She could see it again. The high school courtyard, the setting sun painting the sky in amber streaks. She had stayed late that evening, helping him carry art supplies to the club room. He had made her laugh over something silly, a broken brush or a smudge on her cheek, and then suddenly, the laughter had faded. His face had been so close. She remembered the warmth of his breath, the uncertain way his fingers had brushed her hair aside. And then that hesitant, trembling kiss.
She could still taste that mix of youth and wonder. "I felt happy," she whispered, "and safe. Like… as long as he was beside me, I could walk through any storm."
Her voice cracked slightly. Chen Rong quietly reached out and placed a hand over hers, but Mei continued before comfort could reach her.
"Few years later, we exchanged our vows," she said, smiling faintly though her eyes were wet. "The ceremony was small. My grandfather cried. He looked so nervous that I thought he might faint before saying his lines. I teased him about it later." She gave a broken laugh. "He said he wasn't scared of me, just terrified he'd forget the words."
"And then," she continued, her tone softening, "my child was born. Our happiness didn't change. I could feel a sense of gentle love every day."
She remembered the nights when he would come home late, tired but still smiling, bending down to kiss her forehead before going to check on their sleeping son. She remembered the way their boy would squeal "Baba!" every morning when Li Hao lifted him into the air. It had been ordinary, but it was everything.
Her voice wavered. "But…"
Chen Rong's expression grew cautious.
"But something… started to fade," Mei said, staring at the carpet. "I can't explain when it began. Maybe after he became busy business in his work. Or maybe after the new apartment. It's like… he was there, but the warmth wasn't."
She took a breath and looked up. "Do you remember that dinner we were supposed to have last spring? You and I?"
Chen Rong nodded slowly.
"I canceled that day because he suddenly called, saying he wanted to have dinner with me. I was so happy. I dressed up, made his favorite dish. I waited until midnight. He never came. No message, no call." Mei's tone had hardened now. "When he came home the next morning, he just said, 'Work emergency.' I smiled. I believed him."
Her fingers twisted around each other, restless.
"Then there was another time," she said, her voice growing thinner. "Just a few days ago. He was leaving for work. I told him the sink was leaking and asked if he could call someone to fix it before he left."
She could still picture it vividly: Li Hao standing by the door, adjusting his tie in the mirror.
He didn't even look at her when he said, "I'll do it later. I have a business dinner tonight."
She had smiled, like she always did. "Alright, don't forget then."
And he had nodded absently, already checking his watch.
"I thought it was fine," Mei said softly. "He's busy, I told myself. He's providing for us. But I think… that day was the first time I felt him slip away."
The room seemed smaller now, the air heavier. Chen Rong watched her carefully.
"And then," Mei whispered, "the message."
Her voice barely rose above the hum of the rain outside.
"This morning, after he left, I noticed his phone on the table. He's always careful about that, so I picked it up. I was about to rush downstairs to give it to him, but then..."
She swallowed, her throat tight.
"Then I saw the screen light up. A message. It said… 'Can I wait for you at this store?' and then there was a map location."
Her lips trembled, the memory cutting sharp. "At first I thought it was a client. A colleague. But the name… it wasn't a company. It was just, Yuting. I don't even know who that is."
Her breath hitched. "I stared at it for so long. I didn't even realize my hands were shaking."
"What did you do?" Chen Rong asked gently.
"I was about to press it, to see the rest of the chat. But then…" Mei's eyes widened slightly, as if she were seeing it again. "The door opened. He came back."
She heard his voice again, calm, casual, so familiar. 'I'm sorry, I forgot my phone.'
She had frozen, clutching it like it might burn her.
"I handed it to him," Mei said numbly. "'Here,' I told him. And he smiled...he actually smiled...and said, 'Thank you. See you.'"
Her fingers trembled on her lap. "Then he left again. Just like that. No kiss, no goodbye."
The clock on Chen Rong's wall ticked softly. Mei looked utterly drained, but her eyes burned with something darker now, something feverish.
"After that, I just stood there," she murmured. "I couldn't move. I just… kept touching this."
Her right hand rose unconsciously to her wrist, where the delicate bracelet still rested which was slightly faded, but intact. The same bracelet he had put on her all those years ago.