If, in this world, we are forever destined to be swept away by tidal waves of market upheaval, trapped in an industry where promotions demand relocations and uprooted lives, then perhaps the most cathartic thing isn’t decay or collapse—it’s utter, decisive destruction.
“Do you want to fall apart completely?” I smiled at him.
Bringing a man who isn’t your boyfriend into your home isn’t difficult.
All it takes is the turn of a doorknob and an invitation to step inside. The truly difficult part is dismantling the moral barriers within your heart.
As Chu Ke Huan removed his impeccably polished black leather shoes and neatly placed them by the door, my eyes fell on the shoehorn hanging next to the shoe rack. It was something Hao Yi had bought to make it easier when he occasionally stayed over at my place and went straight to work the next morning.
Now that Hao Yi wasn’t here, the shoehorn had become his silent proxy, witnessing my transgression.
And in that moment, I fully understood—I had taken the final step with Chu Ke Huan.
If this was the ultimate goal of months of entanglement, then all that was left was the final stretch.
What would we see at the end of the road? A bottomless abyss? Or an endless expanse of clear skies? When we reached that point, would it finally put an end to the pain of our mutual entanglement and make things easier? Or were we even searching for ease or pain to begin with?
I stared at Chu Ke Huan, who stood at the doorway, my nerves stretched thin.
“Is it too late to back out now? Haha,” I laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension, only to realize my palms were sweating uncontrollably.
Chu Ke Huan laughed too, but he slyly tossed the decision back to me. “This is your place—your call.”
My decision?
I looked around nervously. Every object tied to Hao Yi seemed to be watching me. The scented candles we lit for Valentine’s Day sat dust-covered. Hao Yi’s spare house key was on the table. A pair of mugs we bought together one Christmas still had leftover water in one.
Each item I noticed deepened my guilt, which slithered over me like a snake. I took a deep breath and remembered there was still half a bottle of red wine on the shelf. It was the only thing in this room that could help me relax.
“Have a seat. I’ll get the wine...”
“Wait.” Chu Ke Huan grabbed my arm—the first physical contact of the night. “Sit down first.”
Startled, I sank onto the couch with him. He placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, making me face him directly. Under the harsh white glow of the room’s overhead light, my anxious and awkward expression was laid bare. It was far from the atmosphere needed for intimacy.
“I want this to be something we both agree on while fully sober,” he said.
“Isn’t it just ‘that thing’? What’s there to agree on, Chu Ke Huan?” I asked, bewildered. Even saying his name filled me with shame. Besides getting drunk out of my mind, what else could make me forget I was betraying Hao Yi?
“Well, since you brought up ‘that thing,’ let me ask you: what words would you use to describe it?”
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