Chapter 2

In the departure lounge.

My best friend called, her tone dejected.

"What do you think someone's doing when they don't reply to messages? Are there still people who don't check their phones all day?"

I looked at my chat window with Ethan.

The screen full of green bubbles, occasionally getting a few words in response.

I thought for a moment and said, "People have a desire to share. If they're not sharing with you, they're sharing with someone else."

"If he can resist contacting you, it means you're not that important."

The airport announcement happened to come on.

My friend asked where I was going. I told her the truth.

Her emotions came and went quickly, her tone teasing.

"You and Ethan are so far apart, north and south, and you still want to stick together during a two-day weekend. I'm kind of jealous."

I opened my mouth. My explanation turned into a lie.

"I'm not going to see him. It's a last-minute business trip."

From freshman year until now, a full seven years.

This relationship took up a huge part of my life.

Even at this moment, I was still covering for Ethan.

Even trying to convince myself.

Attributing all suspicions to coincidence.

I'd been to Ethan's place many times.

But this time I stood at the door for a long while before entering the passcode.

Very subtle changes, but I noticed them at a glance.

There was a small succulent on the balcony, a blanket on the sofa.

The refrigerator that was always empty whenever I visited was now filled with vegetables and fruit.

Plus several boxes of yogurt in different flavors.

I sat in the lounge chair on the balcony, scrolling through chat records with Ethan.

They seemed endlessly long.

In my heart, the process of falling in love was extremely precious.

In our second year together, my phone mysteriously went black. After getting it fixed, I discovered that more than half our chat history was gone.

I tried many methods but couldn't recover it. I was so sad and heartbroken.

Ethan held me and comforted me for a long time. "If it's lost, forget about it. We see each other every day anyway, and we'll always be together in the future."

That's what he said.

But from that day on, he sent hundreds of messages daily, as if to make up for what was lost.

Later, when I got a new phone, the first thing I did was back up our chat history.

Back then, every line was filled with obvious love.

From far away, it gradually, bit by bit, became shallow.

All those overlooked things suddenly surged into my heart.

Ethan's initial active updates, squeezing out time during busy moments to video call.

His endless sharing turned into "I'm busy," "in a meeting," "eating," "sleeping."

Perfunctory. Mechanical.

Recently, our contact had been sparse.

The waiting time felt exceptionally long.

Two hours later.

Sounds came from the entrance.

The curtains were half-drawn. I didn't make a sound, quietly watching the two people entering.

Ethan was carrying several shopping bags, bending down to change his shoes.

The girl kicked off her shoes carelessly and jumped onto his back.

"I'm exhausted from shopping all morning. My legs are so sore. Help me massage them."

Ethan held one hand behind him, steadily setting her down on the sofa.

The motion was so natural, as if he'd done it many times.

"You're the one who wanted to go shopping, and you're the one complaining about being tired."

He sat down next to her. "Where does it hurt?"

The girl raised her hand and pointed, smiling as she placed her feet on Ethan's lap.

Her skirt rode up.

Ethan lowered his head, gently kneading and pressing.

He'd ask from time to time if it hurt, his expression full of affection.

The silver bracelet on his wrist gleamed painfully bright.

"I don't want to go home today. Will you let me stay?"

From my angle, I could see the fondness and attachment in the girl's eyes.

The ambiguous atmosphere gradually fermented.

Ethan's Adam's apple bobbed, his lips parting slightly.

I finally couldn't help but speak.

"Ethan."

0