In the two weeks before his departure to Shanghai, he still insisted on driving me to the bridal district after work every day. We compared prices for wedding dresses, sampled wedding pastries, and browsed wedding rings—going through the motions of what looked like wedding preparations. When sales staff asked about our wedding date, Hao Yi would always say it was set for the following year, though he couldn’t provide an exact day—because we hadn’t done the most critical thing.
We both knew that if we wanted the wedding plans to “proceed effectively,” Hao Yi should have met my family before leaving. He should have told them how much he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me, explained the temporary nature of his assignment, and worked with them to decide on a feasible timeline for the wedding. Alternatively, we could have registered our marriage first and taken our time planning the ceremony. Any of these were things I would have fully supported if he had only brought them up.
But he didn’t.
In fact, it almost felt like he was deliberately avoiding these sensitive topics.
I didn’t blame Hao Yi. Maybe, with his departure looming, he didn’t have the energy to fully think through how simple or complicated marriage could be. Or maybe registering the marriage this year simply wasn’t part of his life plan (even though he claimed marriage was inevitable). Perhaps he thought registering first and planning later would feel too rushed for me or harm his masculine pride. Instead, he devised a plan to organize wedding preparations remotely.
Did he underestimate how complicated marriage was? Or was he overly optimistic about the efficiency of online communication? Hao Yi seemed to forget that the very reason he was being sent to Shanghai was because there are some problems technology cannot solve between people.
So, all the seemingly proactive things Hao Yi did came across to me as little more than gestures to appease me—an enormous waste of time with no real purpose. Time slipped away quickly, and on the day Hao Yi flew out of Taipei, crossing through the clouds and out of the city’s airspace, I threw all the bridal catalogues and pastry samples into the trash.
Everything returned to square one.
If it weren’t for the engagement ring still on my finger, I might have thought that those weeks spent running around the bridal district were nothing but a dream.
“Well, isn’t this great? A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Make the most of the next six months and start dating every guy you like!” The only person who could look at my situation with optimism was, unsurprisingly, Ke Fei.
“Han Ke Fei, is that seriously the best comfort you can offer me?” I rolled my eyes at her.
“Come on! You have no idea how many engaged people would kill for this kind of opportunity. You should be thanking Hao Yi for letting you enjoy legal premarital freedom! This kind of liberty is impossible to buy after marriage.”
“I. Don’t. Need. It.” I was both annoyed and amused. “Why does every conversation with you end up so ridiculous?”
“Because that’s my purpose in life!” Ke Fei grabbed my hand and spoke with mock seriousness. “You’re upset with Hao Yi, but he’s already in Shanghai. Since you can’t change the situation, the only thing you can do is change your mindset.”
“How do I do that?” I asked, caught off guard.
“Tomorrow night, I’ll take you somewhere amazing!” Ke Fei winked at me. “And remember—dress up!”
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