The first time I cooked a full meal for my dad, he cried at the dining table like a child. Only then did I truly realize how immature I had been in the past—not only failing to take care of him but also constantly creating trouble for him.
And yet, in a strange way, I was grateful. Grateful that this illness taught me so much. It made me see that, in this world, the person who loves me most has always been my dad.
One day, Dad asked if I wanted to tell Mom about my illness. I paused briefly before agreeing. Over the past two years, my resentment toward her had faded. We each had our own lives and happiness now. The grievances of the past seemed to have long since dissipated, carried away by the passage of time.
The next day, Mom flew in from overseas. The moment she saw me, she pulled me into her arms.
That hug—it had been over ten years since I last felt it. At that moment, I realized that all the so-called hatred I thought I had could never outweigh the bond of family embedded in my very being. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying.
Mom wept as she held me, lamenting the cruelty of fate. Between sobs, she confessed that she had often thought of me over the years but had been too afraid to reach out, worried that I wouldn’t forgive her.
I knew that Dad had kept in touch with her all along, updating her on my life from time to time. I had always turned a blind eye to it, pretending not to know. Even when Dad cautiously mentioned her, I would brush it off.
Seeing her now, so distraught, I felt ashamed of how ungrateful I had been in the past.
Mom took an extended leave from work to care for me, but I didn’t think it was necessary. After spending a few days showing her around City A, I urged her to return. My future was set in stone, and I didn’t want everyone around me to be consumed by sadness. Perhaps this was the last act of consideration I could offer.
After sending Mom off at the airport, I took a taxi home. On the way, I suddenly felt an urge to go ice skating. I called Dad to let him know I’d be back later and headed straight to Xu Xuan’s skating rink.
It seemed like every time I came here, it was always quiet. The front desk staff had changed, but after paying, I put on my skates and started gliding across the ice alone.
When Xu Xuan arrived, I had already been skating by myself for over half an hour. Seeing him, I stopped and smiled. “I thought I might not run into you today, but here you are.”
Ever since learning that my illness was terminal, I’d stopped stressing over it. I realized the best thing I could do was enjoy life while I still had it.
Xu Xuan chuckled at my words and teased, “I don’t know what it was, but something kept telling me to come here. And sure enough, here you are. I guess this is what they call being on the same wavelength, right, Zhu Yun Hao?”
His playful remark made me burst out laughing.
I skated to the edge of the rink, swapped my skates for shoes, and joined Xu Xuan in the lounge area.
As soon as we sat down, my phone rang. It was Dad. These days, if I stayed out for too long, he would call to check on me, worried that something might happen. Answering the phone, I heard his concerned voice asking why I hadn’t returned yet. I reassured him that I was with a friend, and his tone relaxed. Before hanging up, he reminded me it was time to take my medication.
After ending the call, I turned to Xu Xuan and asked, “Do you have water here?”
“Of course. Wait here, I’ll get some for you.”
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