CHAPTER 35
The week passed in an unsettling silence. I hadn't received a single call, not a message, nothing. Chen Hao seemed to have vanished after our conversation at the coffee shop. Was that all? Was that how he intended to use the two months I gave him? Although I didn't want to admit it, his absence disconcerted me. At times, I felt relieved; after all, the distance gave me space to think. But there was also a strange emptiness, a pang of something akin to disappointment. What was he doing? Why hadn't he given any sign of life?
As I walked towards my apartment, my thoughts revolved around what we had talked about that afternoon. It was the first time we had a real conversation since we got married. Not about trivialities or functional things, but a conversation that exposed wounds, misunderstandings, and truths that we had kept buried for years. I felt that, for the first time, he had opened a door that I thought was closed forever.
Perhaps that's why I gave him a chance, even if I wasn't fully aware of it at the time. We both deserved it. But I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if we had talked sooner, if Chen Hao had trusted me instead of harboring suspicions in his heart. Would he have understood then that I had nothing to do with my father's ambitions? That every word of his was an echo of everything I had always wanted to avoid?
The mention of my father in that conversation turned my stomach. I didn't know that he had visited Hao, much less that he had asked him for money. It was as if, even in the distance, he had sabotaged any chance of happiness I might have had. How did Chen Hao see me in those moments? What did he think when he had to deal with the demands of my family? He would define me as an extension of them, as someone who only wanted to take advantage of his fortune. I imagined him returning home after those encounters, with that cold silence that he never broke. If he had talked to me, if he had shared his frustration, perhaps many things would have been different. But he didn't. We both opted for silence, and that destroyed us.
I shook my head, trying to push those thoughts away. The only thing that was clear now was that I still felt something for him, although I didn't know exactly what it was. I wasn't ready to call it love, but I couldn't deny it either. There was something in his voice, in his gaze, that awakened emotions that I thought were forgotten. Perhaps, deep down, I wanted to know if there was a real possibility of redemption, for both of us.
I opened the door to my apartment with some difficulty, carrying in my hands not only the weight of the bags I was carrying, but also of my thoughts. As I left the groceries in the kitchen, a sound made me stop. Dragging furniture, firm footsteps and male voices that resonated muffled. I frowned. That floor of the building had always been quiet, almost deserted, and now the bustle broke the routine.
I approached the door, driven by curiosity. I put my hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn it immediately. There was something in that noise that made me feel uneasy, as if by opening the door I was about to discover something that would change the course of my day. Finally, I took a deep breath and pushed carefully, just enough to peek out.
The first thing I saw were boxes piled against the wall of the hallway, like a declaration that someone new was arriving. My gaze scanned the surroundings, stopping at a group of workers moving furniture and talking among themselves. For a moment I thought that someone had simply rented the empty apartment across the hall, but my chest tightened as I recognized a figure among them.
At first, I couldn't believe it. My eyes took a few seconds to process what I was seeing, as if my mind wanted to protect me from the impact. But there was no doubt: Chen Hao was there. He was dressed elegantly, as always, with that upright posture that made him stand out even among a group of strangers. He gave directions calmly, but there was an authority in his gestures that left no room for doubt as to who was in charge.
My heart beat strongly, rumbling in my chest like a drum. I closed the door quickly, leaning my back against it while trying to process what I had just seen. "What the hell is he doing here?" I wondered, bringing a hand to my forehead to calm the chaos in my mind.
The memory of our conversation in the coffee shop returned with force. We had talked about giving each other a chance, about allowing him to show me that he had changed. But I never imagined that he would do it literally by moving into the apartment across from mine. "This can't be happening," I thought, although a part of me knew that, coming from Chen Hao, I shouldn't be surprised. He never did things halfway.
After a few minutes, I finally gathered the courage to open the door again. This time, I went out into the hallway, with firm steps, although my heart continued to beat strongly. I walked towards him, feeling his gaze land on me even before I stopped in front of him. The voices of the workers gradually faded, as if my presence had captured all the attention in the scene.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, directly, crossing my arms in front of me.
Chen Hao turned completely towards me, his face showing a mixture of serenity and determination. He took a couple of steps forward, stopping at a prudent distance.
"I'm moving in," he replied, pointing to the boxes behind him.
I looked at him incredulously, feeling my patience begin to crumble.
"To the apartment across the hall?" I asked, although the answer was obvious.
He nodded, and his lips curved into a slight smile, as if he enjoyed my reaction. That only managed to irritate me more.
"Why?" I insisted, my voice rising slightly in tone.
Chen Hao took a deep breath, as if he were gathering all the courage in the world to answer me.
"Because I want to be close to you. I want to take advantage of the time I have to show you that I have changed."
His sincerity threw me off balance. I felt the air in the hallway become denser, as if every word that came out of his mouth carried a weight too heavy to ignore. I looked at him fixedly, searching for any sign that he was playing with me, but I found nothing more than genuine determination.
"This is ridiculous, Hao," I said finally, my tone icy, although I couldn't prevent a slight tremor from betraying my apparent calm. "You can't just move in here and expect that to change anything."
"I don't expect it to change anything immediately," he replied, with a calmness that infuriated me even more. "But I want you to know that I am willing to fight for you. And this is my way of showing it."
His words fell between us like a declaration of war, filling the hallway with a tension that seemed to stop time. I stood looking at him, my mind divided between the desire to yell at him and the uncomfortable spark of something deeper, something I didn't want to admit.
"Do whatever you want. But don't be mistaken. This doesn't mean anything," I snapped, turning around and closing the door behind me with more force than necessary.
Once inside, I leaned against the wood, breathing deeply while my heart continued to beat uncontrollably. On the other side, I could imagine him, probably with that expression of quiet frustration that he always seemed to wear. I didn't expect him to give up, but I couldn't allow his movements to affect me more than necessary. I had agreed to give him two months, but that didn't mean I was going to make it easy for him.
*****
I held the bags of food as if they were a lifeline, although I felt they were just another weight in my sweaty hands. In front of Ai's apartment door, my determination seemed to falter. Not because I doubted my decision, but because nervousness hit me with a force I hadn't felt since... I couldn't remember when. I tightened my fingers around the handles of the bags, trying to calm the tremor.
I had spent days planning this moment, measuring every word, expecting every reaction. But now, everything crumbled under the pressure of facing her face to face, in her space, under her rules. I adjusted the tie that was already perfectly aligned and took a deep breath. "This is all or nothing," I thought as I raised my hand to knock on the door.
The sound of my knuckles echoed in the hallway, too loud for my liking. For a moment, I wished she wasn't home, that I could leave the food in front of her door with a note. But then I heard light footsteps on the other side, and my heart seemed to stop. The door opened slowly, and there she was.
Ai appeared wrapped in a silk robe that moved with the same natural elegance as her. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, disheveled in a way that made her seem... real. Human, but equally unattainable. I stood motionless, caught in the contradiction of wanting to look at her forever and not being able to hold her gaze.
"What are you doing here, Chen Hao?" she asked, her voice as cold as ever, but with a nuance that I couldn't identify. Her eyes gleamed with a flash of discomfort that reminded me that I was an intruder in her refuge.
I tried to force a smile as I lifted the bags slightly, as if they were my pass to cross her threshold.
"I thought it would be appropriate to celebrate my... change of home," I said, my voice sounding more nervous than I would have liked. "And I brought dinner."
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms in a gesture that made her robe fit a little more snugly to her body. The image disarmed me momentarily, but I quickly regained my composure.
"Celebrate? With me?" she retorted incredulously. The skepticism in her tone was palpable, but so was her curiosity.
"Yes. Who better to share dinner with than my neighbor?" I tried to sound light, almost nonchalant, but the sweat on my palms said otherwise.
I saw her eyes drift towards the bags, and for a moment, she seemed to consider the idea. But then she let out an exasperated sigh.
"Chen Hao, I don't have time for this. I'm tired, and I don't want to have dinner with you." Her voice was firm, but something in her posture told me that she wasn't as sure as she pretended.
Before she could close the door, I moved my foot instinctively, preventing it. It was a risky move, but I couldn't let this opportunity slip away.
"Please, Ai," I said, letting my tone reflect all the vulnerability I felt. I knew I couldn't pretend with her. "Just one dinner. If you don't like it, I promise I won't bother you again."
Her eyes narrowed, studying me as if searching for a hidden motive. She was prepared to reject me; I could see it in her expression. But something stopped her. Something I couldn't identify. Finally, she let out a sigh of resignation and took a step back.
"Fine. But don't get your hopes up," she murmured, leaving the door open.
I couldn't help a grateful smile as I entered carefully, as if the space were as fragile as a work of art. My eyes scanned the apartment, absorbing every detail. Everything had her stamp: the soft tones, the elegant and functional furniture, the small touches of warmth that made the place feel like a home.
"Your apartment is... very you," I commented, trying to break the ice as I placed the bags on the table.
"And what does that mean?" she asked, heading to the closet to get plates.
"It means it's perfect. Just like you."
The comment escaped my lips before I could stop it, and although I knew it probably wouldn't be well received, I didn't regret it. Xu Ai paused for a brief moment; her figure rigid as she placed the plates on the table. I could notice how her fingers trembled slightly, although she tried to hide it. She didn't respond, but her silence spoke more than her words could have said.
Meanwhile, I concentrated on opening the bags and taking out the containers carefully, each movement deliberate to fill the uncomfortable void that had formed between us. It was as if by arranging the table I was trying to build an invisible bridge towards her, an attempt to smooth the sharp edges of our relationship.
"I hope I got your tastes right," I said finally, breaking the silence as I uncovered one of the containers. The warm and familiar aroma filled the air, and I felt a small spark of hope as I saw her gaze briefly land on the food.
Xu Ai approached the table with a mixture of curiosity and caution, her eyes scanning the dishes as if she were evaluating not only the food, but also my intentions. I recognized that expression: it was the same one she used when she tried to decipher a situation before deciding how to act.
"We'll see if they're up to par," she replied as she took a seat, her tone dry but without the harshness I had expected.
I sat down in front of her, watching her as she served herself. Although the silence between us was still heavy, there was something different now, a feeling of temporary truce that I didn't dare to break.
The tension between us was palpable, but seeing her take a bite, albeit cautiously, was enough to slightly relieve the knot in my chest. At that moment, with the food in front of us and the familiarity of sharing a table, I felt that something was beginning to change.
It was a small step, perhaps insignificant to many, but for me, it was a beginning. And on this path to redemption, a single step could make all the difference.
CHAPTER 36
The aroma of the food floated in the air, filling the small dining room with a comforting warmth that contrasted with the coldness I was trying to keep inside me. In front of me, was Chen Hao. I watched him without blinking, not wanting to miss a single detail of what he was doing. Perhaps because I had often wanted to see him in that homely way.
"Here you go," he said, pushing a bowl of rice towards me with a tenderness that took me off guard.
My eyes were fixed on the bowl, on the colors of the sautéed vegetables, the sweet and sour pork and the ginger chicken that topped the white rice. Each element seemed perfectly calculated, as if he had spent hours considering my tastes, trying to guess what might please me. For an instant, it was as if time slipped backwards, towards a world where I had dreamed of this: sharing a dinner together, having a conversation that wasn't laden with silence and distance. But that world never existed.
I took the chopsticks, although my fingers felt clumsy holding them. I tried to keep my composure as I took a piece of pork and brought it to my mouth. The flavor spread on my palate, warm and familiar, but instead of comforting me, I was assaulted by memories. Endless nights sitting alone in front of a table that was too big, where the dishes got cold while I waited to hear his footsteps in the hallway. A sound that never came.
I carefully rested the chopsticks on the edge of the bowl, looking away towards the window. I couldn't let him see how many of those memories still weighed on me. I brought the glass of water to my lips, taking a sip as if the liquid could dispel the knot that was forming in my throat. But it didn't work. I felt the past as alive as if I were still trapped in it.
"I've always wondered something," he broke the silence, his tone calm, as if trying to build an invisible bridge between us.
I looked up, looking into his eyes. There was something different in them, a kind of brightness that I didn't remember seeing before. It wasn't the cold and calculating look that I knew. It was something more... human.
"Since when were you interested in fashion and design?" he asked.
The question took me by surprise. He had never shown interest in my life, in my dreams or in the things that really mattered to me. I felt my heart tighten, not with sadness, but with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. My fingers played with the chopsticks as I decided whether to answer. In the end, something in his tone, in his posture, made me give in.
"Since I was a child," I replied. My voice came out more firmly than I expected. "My grandmother used to sew for the villagers. It was her way of making a living, but also her art. She had an incredible ability to transform a simple piece of fabric into something beautiful."
His gaze intensified, and for a moment, I felt that he was really listening. Not as a formality, but with an interest that I didn't expect from him.
"At first, I just watched her," I continued, letting the words flow as if I were talking to myself. "But one day she gave me a notebook and asked me to draw what she described to me. Dresses, jackets, blouses... simple things that the villagers needed. Drawing became my way of helping her."
I paused, letting my mind return to a specific memory. I saw it as clearly as if it had just happened.
"Once, a bride from our village came to ask her for a dress. My grandmother let me design it, and although it was simple, I remember the expression of that woman when she saw it finished. It was then that I knew that I wanted to do this all my life. To create something that made people happy."
Hao watched me in silence, and although I couldn't read his thoughts, there was something in his gaze that told me that my words had touched him in some way. Years ago, I would have given anything to see that expression on his face, to hear questions like this from his mouth. But now, after everything we had been through, I didn't know if I wanted to believe in the sincerity he showed.
"You're amazing, Ai," he declared in a low but emotional voice. "You always have been, but I never realized how much."
The words hit me with an unexpected force. I felt a slight tremor run through my hands, although I disguised it by taking another sip of water. It was too late to hear that. I couldn't allow myself to fall into the illusion of what could have been.
"Everything I know I owe to my grandmother," I replied, looking away towards my bowl. "She taught me to see beyond what was in front of me. To imagine possibilities."
Chen nodded slowly, as if he were recording every word in his mind. I wanted to tell him that it was useless, that none of this would change what I felt. But deep down I recognized that it wasn't entirely true. Something inside me was changing, although I fought with all my might to ignore it.
"What else did she teach you?" he asked, his tone full of curiosity, he was so genuine that it left me speechless for a moment.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, evaluating him. There was something different about him, something that I didn't quite understand. For years, Chen Hao had been an impenetrable man, an enigma who had no interest in sharing anything with me. But now... now he seemed determined to unravel every part of my life. And although I wanted to reject him, a part of me wondered if that was what I had always wanted.
The conversation continued, flowing with a naturalness that I didn't expect. I talked about my grandmother, about the days I spent learning to sew with her, about the small triumphs that made me fall in love with my craft and about my five years in Paris. Chen Hao not only listened; he asked questions, delved into details, as if trying to recover all the lost time. It was disconcerting, exhausting... and, in some way, satisfying.
When I finished speaking, I realized that my bowl was empty. I didn't remember eating so much, but the truth is that not only had everything disappeared from the bowl, but also the initial tension between us had vanished. Chen Hao picked up the plates with a small but sincere smile, as if the simple fact of being here, sharing more moments with me, was enough for him.
I watched him as he walked towards the kitchen, the sound of running water filled the silence. My mind was full of contradictory thoughts, questions that I couldn't answer. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel alone. But I wasn't sure if I was ready to move on to something more.
And as I watched him return with a cup of tea, sitting in front of me as if this instant could last forever, I understood that there was something that I couldn't deny: something was changing between us.
*****
I entered the code on the digital panel at the entrance, the numbers lit up with that faint blue glow that I always found almost mocking. 260517. The date of my wedding to Ai. I had chosen that number when I configured the security system, not as a simple reminder, but as an anchor. A kind of daily penance, a way to never forget the day it all started and, at the same time, the day I started to fail her.
When the door opened with a soft click, the weight of that date hit me once again. It was impossible not to think of the hope I felt that day, a hope that vanished too quickly, devoured by pride and misunderstandings. The apartment was in semi-darkness, but I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't need them. The silence and the darkness seemed a more proper reflection of how I felt at that moment.
I let myself fall onto the sofa and my body sank into the backrest as the cold air of the apartment enveloped me. I closed my eyes, searching my mind for the details of the dinner. I had waited years to have a conversation like that, and now that it had happened, I didn't know what to do with the emotions it had awakened in me.
I could see her clearly in my memory, her expression as she talked about Paris. Her voice was tinged with a passion and a nostalgia that left me speechless. She described the small workshops full of emerging designers, the cobbled streets, the cafes where time seemed to stand still. Listening to her, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to be by her side during those years. If I had supported her, would she have taken me with her to those places? Would she have shown me her world with the same enthusiasm in which she described it now?
Broken with pain, for not having seen all her achievements, I offered to wash the dishes. It was not a casual gesture. It was an excuse to stay a little longer, to prolong the moment. As I cleaned each dish, I listened to her voice filling the space, each of her words was engraved in my mind. I didn't want to miss a second of this time together, even though I knew that she continued to maintain a barrier between us.
When the farewell came and I crossed the door to return to my apartment, the emptiness hit me like a blow. There was an ocean between us, even though now we were only separated by a few meters of hallway. That reality was as cruel as it was inevitable. The woman I saw that night was strong, independent, and brighter than I ever allowed myself to recognize. And although that filled me with pride, it also reminded me how much I had lost.
I rested my elbows on my knees, intertwining my hands in front of my face as I let out a long sigh. Everything that Xu Ai had shown me that night, from her stories to the way she moved, spoke of a life that I didn't know. A life that she had built alone, without me. And that hurt. It hurt more than I could admit.
The image of our wedding crossed my mind, that ephemeral illusion that we had a promising future together. I remember how breathless I was when I saw her walk towards me in that white dress that seemed made for her. It was one of the few moments in my life when I felt that anything was possible. But that feeling didn't last long...
I ran a hand over my face, trying to dispel the knot in my chest, but it was useless. That night had not been just a dinner. It had been a reminder of everything I ruined, of everything she could have been with me if only I had been the man she deserved.
"I destroyed everything," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper that was lost in the dim light.
The weight of my mistakes was overwhelming, and before I realized it, tears began to roll down my face. I didn't cry for myself, but for her. For the nights she spent alone while I hid behind my work, for the words I never said to her, for the dreams that my indifference destroyed.
I forced myself to look up at the window. The city was still alive outside, the lights shone in the distance like small beacons in the darkness. There was something in that image that reminded me that there was still hope, even if it was minimal. Xu Ai had given me two months, and although I knew it would be an uphill battle, I was determined to take advantage of every second.
I couldn't change the past, but I could fight for a future. Not with grand gestures, but with constancy, with sincerity and with love. Because now I understood something that I had ignored for too long: she had always been the light in my life, even when I didn't know how to look at her.
CHAPTER 37
My phone vibrated gently on the table as I finished my cup of tea. I picked up the screen and read the message that had just arrived: "I'll pick you up at ten. Take the day off. There's something I want you to see." My eyebrows rose slightly. Chen Hao and his mysteries. I stared at the words, unsure. A part of me wanted to ignore him, but the other, more curious part, knew that refusing would only prolong the inevitable. His two months had just begun, and his determination seemed firm.
At ten o'clock sharp, I went down to the lobby. The cool air made me let out a soft sigh, but what really took my breath away was what I saw when I went outside. Parked in front of the entrance was a car that I recognized immediately: a black Bentley Continental GT, shiny, majestic. It was the same one Chen Hao used when we were married. I couldn't help but think about how much that car symbolized: luxury, power, and, in the past, the emotional distance that had always separated us.
He was standing next to the car door, leaning slightly on it as if he had been waiting with infinite patience. He wore a dark blue suit without a tie, with an air of casual elegance that seemed so natural on him. When our eyes met, a small smile crossed his lips.
"Good morning. Ready for a surprise?" he asked with his characteristic calmness, although I perceived a note of expectation in his tone.
I nodded slightly, trying to ignore the knot that was beginning to form in my stomach. Without saying anything more, he took a step forward and opened the car door for me, as he had done so many times during our marriage. It was a simple gesture, but the emotional weight behind it made me hesitate.
As I leaned in to get in, memories hit me. The pressure of being the perfect wife, the constant feeling of not living up to others' expectations, and, above all, the emptiness of a marriage where my voice seemed not to matter. My breathing quickened slightly, and for a moment, I considered turning around and going back inside the building.
Hao, as if perceiving my indecision, spoke with a gentleness that I didn't expect.
"It's okay, Ai," he said, extending his hand to me.
My eyes were fixed on his gesture, and although I hesitated for a moment, I finally accepted. The warmth of his touch surprised me, and that small gesture disarmed some of my resistance. I got into the car, letting the familiar scent of leather envelop me. Everything was the same as before, from the texture of the seat to the design of the dashboard. However, there was something in me that had changed.
Hao closed the door carefully and walked around the car to take his place at the wheel. When he sat down, he turned his head slightly towards me, and for a moment, his eyes searched for mine.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost worried.
I nodded quickly, looking away towards the window. My heart was beating strongly, and the weight of memories seemed to tighten my chest. He didn't insist, but he didn't start the engine either. Instead, he extended his hand and placed it gently on mine.
"I'm not that man anymore, Ai," he affirmed with a tone in which I found an emotion that I had rarely heard from him before.
I looked up, meeting eyes that expressed sincerity, regret, and a palpable desire for me to believe him. My throat closed, and although I tried to hold them back, tears threatened to come out.
Chen Hao seemed to understand exactly how I felt. He leaned slightly towards me with slow movements, as if afraid of breaking something fragile. When our foreheads touched, I felt overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions that I couldn't explain. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to breathe in that closeness for a moment.
After a few seconds, he backed away and, to my surprise, gently kissed the tip of my nose. The gesture was as unexpected as it was tender, and it left me motionless, feeling how the wall I had built began to waver.
"Let's go," he said, his voice lighter as he leaned in to fasten my seatbelt. "Today is a day to remember beautiful things."
I didn't answer, but I watched him as he started the car. The Bentley's engine roared softly, and Chen Hao turned the wheel with that precision and control that had always characterized him. I looked out the window, trying to concentrate on the landscape that was beginning to slide by, but my eyes inevitably returned to him.
His profile, illuminated by the light filtering through the windows, seemed as familiar as it was strange to me. He seemed more relaxed, more human than I remembered. It wasn't the Chen Hao of our marriage, that distant and cold man who had left me alone so many times. This was someone different.
I clasped my hands on my lap, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions that was stirring inside me. But the interior of the car, so full of memories, made it impossible to avoid the past. This car had been a symbol of everything that separated us: luxury, status, the apparent perfection that hid an empty marriage.
However, this time I felt something different. I wasn't uncomfortable like before. The Xu Ai that I was now no longer felt small or fragile. I had found my own voice, my own worth. And although Chen Hao was still a powerful figure, I no longer felt crushed by his presence.
I watched him again, allowing myself to look at him without pretending. There was something in his posture, in his gestures, that seemed to be striving to show me that he could be different. That he wanted to be different. And although it disconcerted me, it also awakened a spark of curiosity that I couldn't ignore.
Chen Hao turned his head slightly towards me, as if he felt my gaze.
"Enjoying the scenery?" he asked, with a tone that I found surprisingly teasing.
I looked away quickly, concentrating again on the landscape.
"No," I replied calmly. But a small smile appeared on my lips, one that not even I expected.
The car continued to glide down the road, and for the first time in a long time, the silence between us was not uncomfortable. As I looked at the horizon, I realized something: no matter how much I tried to leave Chen Hao behind, he was determined to remain in my present. Maybe even in my future. And that, more than anything else, was what disconcerted me the most.
*****
The car engine stopped roaring as I parked in front of the high school. I turned off the engine and, for a moment, remained motionless, my hands still on the steering wheel. I looked up at the building that stood before us, bathed in the morning light. Every brick, every tall window, even the stairs worn down by the passage of generations, looked the same as years ago. My heart skipped a beat.
"The high school?" she asked with a mixture of surprise and caution.
I nodded and turned towards her.
"I want to show you something."
She frowned slightly but said nothing. I got out of the car and walked around the vehicle to open her door. As she got out, the air enveloped her, making her take a deep breath, as if she were absorbing the memories that this place brought with it.
I extended my hand towards her, without thinking too much about the gesture. Her eyes went down to it, and for a moment, I doubted if she would accept it. But after a moment, her fingers intertwined with mine. It was a brief contact, but enough to make my heart race.
"Come with me," I said in a calm tone, trying to disguise the emotion that overwhelmed me.
We walked together, our footsteps echoing on the worn stones. The gardens, on both sides, were as well cared for as ever, with rose bushes that bloomed with the same splendor as in the past. When we reached a secluded corner, protected by tall trees, I stopped. It was our corner, although she probably didn't know it. A small, cleared area with wooden benches that had withstood the passage of time. It seemed like a place out of the world.
"It was here," I commented finally, pointing to one of the benches as a soft smile drew on my face. "It was here where I saw you for the first time."
Ai looked at me curiously, as if trying to search my face for the meaning behind my words. I was silent at first, letting the place speak for me. Finally, I inhaled deeply and continued.
"You were sitting there, with something in your hands. You seemed so focused that nothing else around you seemed to exist. I was playing basketball with my friends." A brief laugh escaped my lips. "And then, as if destiny had planned it, the ball went flying towards you."
I saw her eyebrows rise slightly, as if that detail awakened a memory buried in her mind. I moved a little closer, as if telling her a secret that only she could hear.
"I ran towards you before anyone else did. I wanted to be the one to pick up the ball from your hands. And when our eyes met..." I paused, letting the moment settle. "I knew that something in my life had just changed. My heart beat like never before, as if it were shouting that I had found a very important person in my life."
Ai remained silent, but her expression had softened. Her lips trembled slightly, and her eyes reflected a mixture of emotions that I couldn't decipher. I dared to continue, because I knew that this moment was crucial.
"After that, I started looking for you. I always found some excuse to pass by where I knew you would be. My friends quickly realized it and teased me relentlessly. They said that my interest in you was an open secret. And it was." I smiled, although my voice became more serious. "But I never dared to tell you. I couldn't. I knew that our lives would take different paths, and I didn't want to fall in love with someone I thought I would never see again."
She raised her head, and our eyes met. There was something in her gaze that made me hold my breath. It was as if she were unearthing something she had kept hidden for years. Finally, she spoke.
"It's curious..." she said in a low tone, as if talking more to herself than to me.
"What's curious?" I asked, leaning slightly towards her.
Xu Ai hesitated but finally let out the words she had been holding back.
"That day... my heart also beat faster." Her voice trembled, but she didn't stop. "I didn't know why, but when you approached, I felt something. Something I had never noticed before."
The silence that followed was profound, charged with emotions that neither of us knew how to handle. Slowly, I brought my hand towards hers, squeezing it gently. This time, she didn't pull it away. We stayed like that, surrounded by the whisper of the wind and the rustling of the leaves under our feet.
For the first time in years, I felt that I was not alone in my nostalgia, in my desire to recover what we had lost. And as the morning sun illuminated the garden, casting soft shadows on the ground, I knew that this moment would be one that I would treasure forever.
CHAPTER 38
The low hum of the monitor filled my office, a contrast to the clutter that surrounded me: stacked sketches, scattered pieces of fabric and a forgotten cup of coffee on the edge of the table, the contents of which had cooled hours ago. I concentrated on every stroke of the design in front of me, but deep down I knew that I was only avoiding something bigger, something that I couldn't face so easily.
Chen Hao.
His words, his gestures, even the way he looked at me, had become a constant presence in my mind, disturbing the peace that I had worked so hard to build. Every line I drew seemed like a desperate attempt to control my internal chaos, but the memories kept emerging, relentlessly.
The visit to the high school had been more than just a trip to the past. It had opened a wound that I thought was closed, but it had also revealed something that I didn't want to admit: the weight of his sincerity. His confession, the details he shared, his gaze full of emotions that I had rarely seen during our marriage... All of this undermined my determination to keep him out of my life.
A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Without taking my eyes off the screen, I responded automatically:
"Come in."
The door opened with a soft creak. I looked up and my heart skipped a beat. Chen Hao was there, filling the room with his presence as if it were impossible to ignore him. He carried a thermos in one hand and a small bag in the other. His impeccable dark suit contrasted with the warmth of his smile, the one that seemed designed to disarm any barrier I tried to raise.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, struggling to keep my tone neutral as I moved the chair slightly away from the desk.
"I haven't seen you in days." His voice was calm, but his eyes told me something deeper, something that I didn't dare to interpret. "I asked your assistant what was happening to you, and she told me that you have spent all your time here, working tirelessly to get the store ready."
He approached the desk and carefully placed the thermos and the bag. I watched him, suspicious, as he took out small containers that began to fill the office with the aroma of freshly made food. My stomach reacted before I did, betraying me with a soft growl. Chen Hao smiled, that mixture of satisfaction and tenderness that I found difficult to ignore.
"Looks like I arrived just in time," he commented as he uncapped one of the containers, letting out the smell of hot rice and ginger chicken.
"It wasn't necessary," I replied, crossing my arms. I tried to make my tone sound distant, but I was aware of the tremor it expressed.
"It's no trouble for me, Ai." His eyes met mine as he arranged the dishes with precision. "On the contrary, it's a pleasure to be able to serve you and feed you."
I stayed silent, watching him attentively. He had perfectly understood what I wanted to tell him. It wasn't necessary for him to serve me or feed me because both things meant that there was already a relationship between us. During our marriage, I had prepared meals for him, carefully packed, only to find them untouched at the end of the day. That memory hit me hard, reminding me how much our story had changed since then. Now it was he who was trying to take care of me.
"You don't have to do this," I insisted, making sure my voice sounded firm.
Hao looked up, and his expression was so serious that it almost made me back away.
"I'm not here to make up for the past, Ai. I'm here because I want to be part of your present and future."
His words were unexpected. The intensity of his gaze, the calmness of his voice... Everything seemed designed to break through the defenses I had built with so much effort. And, despite myself, I felt that something inside me gave way, even if only a little.
While I ate in silence, Chen Hao moved around the office. His eyes scanned the sketches scattered on the side table. After seeing all the finished ones, he stopped seeing the one I was working on when he appeared. It was a ball gown, with fluid lines and intricate details that spoke of my years of experience and my love for design.
"Your work is incredible," he expressed finally, with an admiration so genuine that it left me speechless for a moment. "I never imagined how much talent you had."
I looked at him skeptically, remembering how little he had valued me in the past. Had he missed me so much during my absence or did he just want to flatter me? Before I could choose an option, he continued:
"It's true that you always impressed me at galas." He turned towards me with a serious expression. "But I never thought that the dresses you wore had been made by you. I found out when you left, and I discovered the empty workshop. Although it was too late, I valued all the effort you made at every moment."
I left the chopsticks on the table, my gaze fixed on his.
"I didn't do it for you, Hao. I did it for me. Because I needed something to remind me who I really was."
He nodded slowly and a small smile crossed his lips.
"I know I'm saying this very late," he said in a low voice, "but you were always spectacular. Sometimes it even infuriated me to see you so perfect, because I knew that I didn't value you as I should. I hated myself for that. And now... now I want to give you everything that I didn't give you."
I felt a knot forming in my throat. His words were sincere, full of a frankness that I didn't expect, but also of a weight that I didn't know I was ready to bear. How could I open myself to the possibility of believing him? How could I risk myself again?
"You should leave," I said finally, in a tone more fragile than I would have liked.
When I saw him move, I thought he would head towards the door and leave, but he didn't. His direction was me. He walked slowly, as if wanting to prolong the time, and stood in front of me. Our eyes met again, and I discovered in his gaze something I had never seen before: need. At that moment I didn't quite understand what kind of need a man who could reach the moon with just lifting his hand could have.
"I love you, Ai. I've always loved you," he confessed, caressing my cheek.
The words echoed in the office like a late confession, full of meaning. I stayed motionless, my lips slightly parted, but unable to respond. Hao, aware of all the emotions that overwhelmed me at that moment, took a step back.
"See you soon," he murmured before leaving and closing the door behind him.
I stayed there, motionless, staring at the closed door while Chen Hao's words continued to resonate in my mind. The air in the office felt heavy, as if everything that had just happened was suspended in the space around me. Something inside me had begun to change, and although I wasn't ready to admit it, I knew that the walls I had built weren't as solid as I had believed.
*****
As I left the office, I paused for a moment in front of the closed door. I took a deep breath, letting the coolness of the room relieve the tightness I felt in my chest. I said the words I had kept hidden away for years, and although I knew they couldn't erase the past, I hoped they would at least open a small crack in the wall that separated us.
My steps echoed softly as I walked through the open space of the workshop. There was something fascinating about the synchronized movement of Ai's team. Each employee seemed immersed in their task: some adjusted patterns on large wooden tables, others concentrated on the rhythmic noises of the sewing machines, and some transported rolls of fabric with an efficiency that spoke of clear and firm leadership. Everything here carried the essence of my wife, from the precision to the silent passion that permeated the air. This place was not just a workshop; it reflected her soul.
I passed a group of employees who looked up when they noticed my presence. Although they tried to hide their curiosity, their quick glances and barely audible murmurs made it clear that they knew who I was. I felt the need to quicken my pace, but I restrained myself. I had learned that haste could be an enemy. Instead, I walked calmly, allowing myself to see every detail, as if the space could tell me more than Ai had said.
Reaching the elevator, I let out a sigh and rested my palm against the metal wall next to the button panel. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the recent images settle in my mind. Her, in front of me, trying to keep her mask of indifference while her gaze said so much. My confession: "I love you, Ai. I've always loved you." A phrase so simple, but which carried the weight of years of regret and hope.
My fingers slid slowly towards the elevator button, but I didn't press it immediately. Instead, I stayed there, letting the echo of my own words resonate in my mind. Had they served any purpose? I had seen her internal struggle, the conflict between her emotions and her reasoning, but I didn't know if that was enough to open a crack in the barrier that separated us. Had I arrived too late? That question burned inside me.
I opened my eyes and looked up at my reflection on the shiny surface of the elevator doors. The man I saw was not the same one who had ignored Xu Ai's silences during their marriage. He was no longer the man who walked through life believing that love could be postponed. My face showed the lines of the past years, marked by guilt and emptiness. But there was something more in my expression now: a spark of determination that I refused to let extinguish.
"I can't stop here," I thought as I finally pressed the button. The doors opened with a soft hum, revealing the empty cabin. I entered with firm steps, although I felt the weight of my emotions pushing me towards the ground. As the doors closed, a thought crossed my mind: what would have happened if I had seen Xu Ai as I saw her now from the beginning? Would I have discovered her talent before she had to leave to find it on her own? Would we have shared dinners, sincere laughter and conversations that were not one-sided monologues?
The elevator descended slowly, as if reflecting my own resistance to moving away from her world. The image of her, focused on her designs, returned to my mind. I couldn't help but remember how during our marriage I saw her in dresses that made her seem like a goddess among mortals, and I never knew that they had been created by her own hands. That ignorance, that lack of attention, was something that would torment me forever.
The elevator stopped on the ground floor and the doors opened, revealing the illuminated lobby. I walked out with more determined steps, the echo of my shoes sounding softly in the empty space. Outside, the fresh air hit my face, clearing some of the knot in my mind. My car waited at the entrance, gleaming in the daylight, but I didn't rush to get in. I stopped, looking towards the horizon, where the sky was beginning to clear. That clarity reminded me that, although the path to Ai's heart was difficult, there was still time to fight for her.
As I approached the car, a new promise formed in my mind. It was not enough with words or symbolic gestures; I had to show her with actions that my love for her was not a late illusion. I had to be constant, patient and, above all, sincere. And although every step I took towards Xu Ai seemed more difficult than the last, I was willing to keep moving forward, because I understood something that I had previously ignored: true love is not about grandiose conquests, but about small acts that build a solid bridge towards the other's heart.
I smiled slightly as the car drove away from the workshop. It was the beginning, and although there was still a long way to go, I was ready to travel it. Because if there was one thing I was clear about, it was this: Xu Ai deserved every effort, every second and every part of my being. And for her, I was willing to do whatever was necessary.
CHAPTER 39
I looked at myself in the mirror as I adjusted the last buckle of my dress. I had chosen a design that represented everything I am: elegant, simple, but with a bold touch that spoke of my determination. Tonight was important. It was not only the opening of my first store in Shanghai, but the result of weeks of effort, of endless nights and difficult decisions. Everything I had worked for culminated here.
I carefully placed some long earrings, whose brilliance reflected the pride I felt for myself. For a moment, I stared at my reflection, allowing myself to appreciate the woman who was looking back at me. A woman who had fought to get here. But deep down, a small voice kept whispering to me that not everything was resolved, that some emotions were still too close to the surface.
The sound of the phone vibrating on the dresser pulled me out of my thoughts. I picked it up, reading the message that had just arrived:
"I'll pick you up in half an hour."
I frowned when I saw Chen Hao's name on the screen. His ability to appear just when I had managed to distract myself from him was impressive. I quickly typed a response:
"It's not necessary, I can go alone."
Barely a few seconds passed when the phone vibrated again.
"We live next to each other and we're going to the same place. It's the right thing to do."
I left the phone on the dresser with a deliberate movement, trying to ignore the slight knot that had formed in my chest. Chen Hao had a way of unbalancing me that irritated me as much as it disconcerted me. It wasn't just his insistence; it was the small spark of something like hope that, although I didn't want to admit it, was beginning to grow inside me.
I sighed and gathered my hair into a low bun, making sure that every strand was in its place. While I finished getting ready, I tried to concentrate on what really mattered: the opening of my store. This was my achievement, my moment. Chen Hao could be present, but he would not be the center of the night.
The doorbell rang, breaking the silence of the apartment. I took my clutch, took a deep breath and headed for the door. When I opened it, I felt my heart stop for a second.
There he was, occupying the entire threshold with his imposing figure. He wore a dark suit that fit him impeccably, every detail cared for as if it were designed to highlight the quiet authority that had always characterized him. But what really threw me off balance was the way he looked at me.
His eyes scanned every detail of my dress, my hairstyle, my posture. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten to breathe.
"You look incredibly beautiful," he said finally, in a low, firm voice charged with a sincerity that I didn't expect.
I blinked, surprised. During our marriage, Chen Hao's compliments had always been formal, distant, as if they were programmed to fulfill an obligation. But this was different. His words, although simple, sounded sincere and emotional, and that disconcerted me more than anything else.
"Thank you," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. I closed the door behind me, avoiding his gaze as I tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions that invaded me.
*****
I extended my arm towards her as the elevator arrived with a soft ding. Although she hesitated at first, I saw the internal struggle in her eyes before she finally accepted. Feeling her hand in mine, even if only for an instant, was like touching a truth that I had yearned for years. I said nothing as she entered the elevator first; I knew that silence spoke more than words could convey.
The enclosed space of the elevator seemed to magnify everything: her soft, floral perfume. It was the same perfume that I had bought after her departure, trying to fill with it the void she left in my life. But it was never enough. Nothing was.
The tension was palpable, like an invisible bridge between us that was there, but neither of us knew if we should cross. I gathered courage and broke the silence.
"I've been thinking a lot," I said, without taking my eyes off her. My voice came out lower than I expected, as if the weight of my words resisted being spoken.
Ai turned towards me, her eyes showing unexpected curiosity.
"About what?" she asked, her tone was neutral, but there was something in her gaze that made me think she was ready to listen.
I swallowed, feeling a knot in my throat.
"About how alone I've been without you," I confessed finally.
The elevator continued to ascend, but my world seemed to stop. I didn't know how she would receive my words. Her lips remained sealed, but something in her posture changed. I clung to that moment, to that small crack in her defenses, as if it were a lifeline.
When the doors opened, we walked out together, and although my steps were firm, my interior was full of doubts. I didn't let go of her arm as we walked towards the car. Feeling her next to me, even in that contained closeness, was a reminder of how much I had missed her presence.
Reaching the car, I released her arm carefully and stepped forward to open the door. I turned towards her, looking into her eyes once again.
"Please," I said, my voice soft, almost a plea.
She looked at me with a mixture of distrust and something that I couldn't decipher, but after a few seconds of doubt, she nodded. When she took my hand to get into the car, a flash of warmth spread through my chest, a feeling that I didn't remember having felt in a long time. I closed the door carefully and walked around the car to take my seat next to her.
As the vehicle started, silence enveloped us again. I glanced at her profile illuminated by the lights that flickered outside the car. She was so serene, so unattainable, and yet, she was there. Every mile we advanced brought back memories. Whole nights listening to her movements on the other side of the wall, wanting to get closer, but not knowing how. I had spent years hating myself for not crossing that door, for allowing my fear and my pride to push her further away. And now, when I was finally with her, that regret was a wound that never finished healing.
I looked at my hands, clenching my fists tightly on my thighs. The pain was almost unbearable. If only I could go back to the past and tell her everything that I didn't say instead of hiding behind my coldness. But the past was written, and I only had this moment, this small opportunity to try to recover what we had lost.
I leaned towards her, letting my fingers gently brush against hers. At first, Ai turned her head towards me in surprise, but she didn't pull her hand away. Her gaze was a mixture of questions and emotions.
"I'm sorry... for everything," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.
I didn't expect her to answer. I knew that my words would not erase the damage I had caused. But when our eyes met, I saw a spark, a small light that gave me hope. I didn't let go of her hand until I felt it was the right moment to do so. I didn't want to pressure her; I didn't want to ruin whatever it was that was beginning to build between us.
I leaned back in the seat, watching the city lights as they passed around us. My chest was still tight, but there was something different this time. A feeling of possibility, that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for us. And as the car continued its journey, I made a silent promise: I was not going to waste that opportunity. Because even in her distance, even in her silence, Xu Ai continued to be the center of my world.