For the past few days, Di hadn't mentioned the trip again.
Not a single word.
Lan tried not to overthink it, but every time he passed by her without a glance—or met her eyes only to quickly look away—it became harder to ignore the obvious: something had changed.
She didn't know what exactly had shifted between them. All she knew was that the words "I'll go with you" still shimmered faintly in her memory, while in his world, they seemed to have faded completely.
She thought about asking, but deep down, she was afraid—afraid that saying it aloud would only confirm what her heart already feared.
—
After the math quiz, her mind was still foggy.
While heading back to her seat, a stray memory surfaced.
That shiny trading card.
The afternoon sun was warm that day. She had been sitting alone on the staircase, wiping tears from her face, when she saw it fall to the floor. It glittered under the hallway light like something precious.
She picked it up not because she cared about cards—but because she couldn't stop thinking: if something so small and bright could be remembered, picked up, returned…
Then maybe she could be too.
Later, she handed the card back. No one knew how tightly she had gripped it before letting go.
She remembered how red Jie's face was when he took it. She remembered Di standing silently beside him, his eyes unreadable.
—
Now, as she walked down the empty school hallway, those feelings quietly returned.
Sunlight filtered in through the old windowpanes. The corridor stretched out ahead, silent and warm. She walked slowly, her shoes tapping softly against the floor.
Then—
A familiar voice behind her:
"When are you going?"
She turned around.
Jie was leaning against the wall, his hair a little messy, his face still showing signs of a nap.
"I heard you wanted to find your birth parents," he said casually. "Do you know when you'll go?"
She froze for a second, caught off guard.
"…You remember that?"
"Of course," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "That's not something I'd forget."
Her throat tightened. She had no idea how to respond.
It wasn't a grand gesture. It wasn't even a promise. But it meant something—because he remembered. Because someone had remembered her words when she wasn't around to repeat them.
"I thought I was the only one who still cared about it," she said quietly.
"Well, now you know you're not," Jie smiled. Not his usual playful grin—but something softer. Honest.
Something shifted inside her.
She realized she hadn't just been disappointed by Di's silence. She had hoped someone—anyone—would still care enough to bring it up.
And Jie had.
—
She looked at him. For once, she really looked.
At the boy who always laughed too loud, who carried every awkward moment on his shoulders like it was nothing.
And maybe—maybe she had been the one pretending not to see all along.
"Jie…"
She started to speak, but he leaned in.
It was slow. Hesitant. Like he was afraid to startle her.
His lips brushed hers, light as a falling leaf. Gentle. Quiet.
She froze—just for a heartbeat. Then slowly, she closed her eyes.
She didn't pull away.
It wasn't a confession.
It wasn't a declaration.
It was a moment that simply… fit.
Like two lines meeting—softly, perfectly—somewhere in the light.
—
At the end of the hallway, a shadow slipped past.
Neither of them noticed.
But for a brief second, that shadow paused—
Like it had seen something it wasn't meant to see.