To my family and friends, I must have seemed insane, insisting on breaking up.
My father slapped me again and froze all my credit cards, trying to pressure me with money.
I moved out, packing only a few things. Luckily, my grandparents’ old house was still there.
Looking at the shabby apartment building, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn’t felt in years. After my mother died, my grandparents often took me in. My father and stepmother were happy to be rid of me.
But when I was six, my grandparents passed away, one after the other. It wasn’t until high school that I could come back and live here freely.
The old house was dim but cozy. I looked at old photos for a while. The people who loved me most were all here—and yet, none of them were here anymore.
Besides the house, my grandparents had left me some savings.
I went to the mall and then contacted the cemetery office.
My mother was buried with my grandparents. Next to them, I had already bought a plot—originally for myself. But now, I would bury my daughter there.
I bought clothes and shoes for her, and a little bell she loved, and placed them inside. The staff looked puzzled but said nothing.
The headstone read, “Beloved Daughter,Miaomiao.”
No surname.Miaomiao was my child alone.
After setting up her grave, I sat at the cemetery all afternoon. Here lay the four people I loved most in the world.
They were all gone.
When my mother died, I thought at least my father would be there for me. But soon he stopped coming home, and when he did, he brought my pregnant stepmother. After that, he was no longer my father, but someone else’s husband and parent.
Then there was Zhou Junhao. He became my everything.
But he pulled me out of the mud, only to push me into an abyss.
Miaomiao’s acute leukemia came on fast. She was so young, just over two. Chemotherapy made her cry every day, and my heart broke with hers.
By then, my father had long since stopped caring about me, his married daughter. Zhou Junhao was always traveling with Cheng Xiaoyu. His parents didn’t like their granddaughter and didn’t want anyone to know she was sick.
I spent every day with her, knowing her time was short, wanting her brief life to be as happy as possible.
Looking back, it wasn’t me who was there for her, but her for me.
If not for her soft body, bright eyes, and warm little hands—the last warmth in my world—I might have jumped from that building long before.
But now, I was back before my marriage to Zhou Junhao. Maybe this was the universe’s way of giving me a second chance.
That night, Zhou Junhao was waiting outside my door.
He looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. There were crushed cigarette butts all over the ground.
He never used to smoke. He only started after we married.
“You’ve started smoking?” I asked, not sure why.
“I always could, but I didn’t want you to smell it.” His voice was rough.
I nodded.
“Can we talk?”
I nodded again and let him in.
“I had a dream last night,” he said, looking around as I turned on the aromatherapy diffuser.
He continued, “I dreamed we didn’t break up, that we got married and were happy. But…”
I finished for him. “But after I got pregnant, you started seeing someone else. I gave birth alone. Our daughter got acute leukemia, and you only visited once. After she died, I jumped off a building.”
He stared at me, stunned. “It was just a dream. Did you have the same dream? Is that why you want to break up? Qingyao, believe me, I would never betray you. I only see Cheng Xiaoyu as a sister. There’s nothing between us.”
“That was your dream, because in your dream, you were always happy. But that was my life. Do you really think it was just a dream?”
He said urgently, “Qingyao, I don’t understand why I would change like that. It’s like I was possessed. But I love you. I only love you. Our years together can’t just disappear. I can’t understand the man in my dream. He wasn’t me. He just looked like me.”
I laughed through my tears.
Yes, years of love, gone in an instant. The man who ignored me when I was pregnant was just someone who looked like Zhou Junhao.
From the beginning, the boy I loved had died at eighteen—or maybe twenty-one.
Only I had thought he was still alive, that as long as the wind could lift his white shirt and he smiled at me, he would always be there.
But when did he die, without any warning?
Maybe there were signs.
As time passed, his work became more demanding. He was always at meetings or banquets, coming home late, reeking of smoke and alcohol.
Meanwhile, I got a stable job at a public institution. My work was simple and routine.
He talked about business deals I couldn’t understand. My steady job, to him, was a sign of a woman with no ambition.
He had less and less to say to me. After the initial sweetness faded, the days we spent together became nothing but fatigue and boredom. Whenever his phone rang, he’d grab his coat and head out the door without a word.
I tried to share things I found interesting with him. At first, he listened intently, but gradually, his mind wandered. When did it start—this silence between us? Back when we were in love, we talked about everything: family, school, movies, books, trips, dreams for the future. I’d laugh and tease him, and he’d just look at me, gentle and focused.
But when the future we’d dreamed of finally arrived, he grew silent, leaving me behind, chattering away to fill the emptiness. He was annoyed, impatient. His circle of friends grew more colorful, his excuses for staying out late more creative, until eventually, he just stopped coming home.
After I got pregnant, there was a weekend he said he had to work late. I went to his office to bring him dinner—the kind of scene I’d always imagined as a girl: me bringing him food, keeping him company while he worked, then going home together. People always complain about how long waiting can feel. But to me, if you still have someone to wait for, that’s happiness.
That day, through the glass window, I saw Cheng Xiaoyu in a white dress, her hair loose, sitting on his lap as he fed her, one bite at a time, tender and intimate, as if she were a child.Cheng Xiaoyu looked so fragile, her skin pale, a kind of delicate beauty. That day was chaos. I met another side of myself—hysterical, desperate—and I saw how cold and unyielding he could be.
I collapsed to the floor, bleeding, but the baby was okay. After that,Cheng Xiaoyu and he no longer bothered to hide their relationship; soon, everyone knew about them.
He told me, “Yaoyao, look at our circle—what man isn’t fooling around? Even your dad, my dad. What’s the big deal? Our feelings are still there. What’s the point of making a scene? Where would you even go if you left me? Who could you find that would never change? I know you hate those social events, but I need someone by my side.”
I kept thinking about divorce, but then I’d remember all the good times. In high school, he’d juggle his internship, school competitions, and still help me with homework. In college, when I had a 107-degree fever and was alone during winter break, he broke down the door, carried me to the hospital, and stayed all night. He shielded me from my father’s anger and my stepmother’s mockery.
I couldn’t let go. I thought maybe love was never supposed to be smooth. Maybe, in a long life, one person will always lose their way, and the other should guide, wait, and hope for their return.
People say that kids who grow up with hardship should be more rational in love, more cautious. I tried to be careful. But once I fell, even a little warmth from him could melt my frozen heart—especially after all those years of companionship.
So I waited, hoping he’d come back. Instead, I waited through his nights away, crying alone with Miaomiao in my arms. He said, “You didn’t do anything wrong. We just want different things now. Yaoyao, you’re stuck in place, but I’ve moved on. You can’t keep up with me anymore.”
I’m afraid of heights. But that day, standing on the high platform, I felt an unprecedented sense of relief. No more sleepless nights, no more heartbreak, no more waiting for someone who would never return.
“But there’s no chance anymore. The moment Miaomiao died, we were over.” I wiped my tears and asked him seriously, “Did you even know I had a daughter? Did you know her name was Miaomiao?”
He was already sobbing, “Give me another chance, Yaoyao. I don’t know when I changed. I really loved you—my love for you was real. Please, even if I did something wrong, I know it now. Please…”
How ironic. In my past life, I wished he would cry and beg for forgiveness, so we could start over. But now, seeing him like this, I realized the person I loved had died long ago, somewhere I couldn’t reach.
Chapter 02
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