At first, it was just curiosity. While Chu Ke Huan was out seeking excitement, what was his girlfriend doing? Was she loyally waiting at home for him to return? Pretending to be busy to distract herself from missing him? Or was she unable to reach him and anxiously venting her feelings through cryptic posts online?
But I found no answers. Gao Zi Yuan’s last update was two weeks ago—a simple check-in at a dinner gathering with friends. She wasn’t the type to broadcast her life online, which was precisely why I hadn’t kept up with her over the years.
Patiently, I scrolled back through months of her posts. From what I could see, although she and Chu Ke Huan had been in a stable relationship, they weren’t the type of couple to be constantly glued to each other. In the photos of gatherings she attended, Chu Ke Huan was rarely present. Perhaps they were just fiercely independent, or maybe their relationship had been strained for a long time, prompting him to start attending mixers. That was the obvious conclusion—but I wasn’t satisfied with it.
A relationship lasting ten years had to have more to it than simple mutual affection. A surge of voyeuristic curiosity took hold of me, like a thief who had finally broken into a heavily guarded mansion, greedily digging through someone else’s treasures. Every small discovery sent my heart racing. Finally, my eyes landed on a photo of Gao Zi Yuan and Chu Ke Huan together.
The picture was from a year ago—the most recent one I could find of them as a couple. Zooming in, I scrutinized every detail of the photo, not so much to “see” but to “uncover” any cracks in their relationship.
I knew this was intrusive, even borderline obsessive, but I couldn’t stop wondering: how many secrets could a seemingly perfect photo hold? Were their smiles forced? Did their eyes betray signs of infidelity? Had their love evolved into something akin to familial affection—or worse, deteriorated into something unrecognizable? Did “love” even still exist between them?
As I pondered these questions, Hao Yi’s call suddenly flashed on my screen, startling me so much that my heart skipped a beat.
“Hello?” I fumbled to answer the call. “Hao Yi?”
“You’re still out?” Hao Yi’s tone was calm but slightly confused.
“Yeah, didn’t I tell you before work? Ke Fei asked me to join her for dinner after work. We just finished.” I had told Hao Yi that tonight’s gathering was “a work dinner with colleagues”—not to deliberately hide the truth, but to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.
Consistency was the cornerstone of my relationship with Hao Yi. We both worked hard and usually reserved one evening a week to spend together—dinner, a movie, and an overnight stay. On other days, we’d return to our respective homes, exchange messages, and say goodnight over a phone call. Hao Yi rarely checked up on me, so his call tonight, so early, felt out of character. It made me nervous—had he seen through my excuse?
“I got home a while ago and found a few properties online. Do you want to check them out this weekend? Did you see the links I sent?”
I vaguely remembered him mentioning it. Hao Yi had been considering buying an apartment in the city for a while now, but I’d been too consumed with snooping into Chu Ke Huan and Gao Zi Yuan’s private lives to notice his messages.
“I can go with you this weekend! But it’s hard to view them on my phone right now. Let’s talk when I get home, okay?”
“Need me to pick you up?”
“No, I’m almost home. Let’s chat later.” After ending the call, my phone returned to the photo of Gao Zi Yuan and Chu Ke Huan.
Hao Yi’s call had a grounding effect on me. Finally, I could step back and look at this couple with a sense of detachment. Whether their relationship was good or bad was their business. Chu Ke Huan had merely buttoned my blouse for me—nothing more. In the long run, as Hao Yi and I continued walking hand in hand, this moment wouldn’t even register as a footnote in my memories. By tomorrow, it would be forgotten. It had to be forgotten.
I closed the photo, intending to breathe a sigh of relief, but then I noticed a new message quietly sitting in my inbox:
“Finding your Facebook wasn’t easy. Let me know when you’re home.”
It didn’t even surprise me that the sender was Chu Ke Huan.
Holding back the veins threatening to burst on my forehead, I swiped at my phone and deleted the message with a forceful motion. Everything that happened tonight, I would throw into the dark corners of this city’s night and leave it behind.
0 Comments