The hallway ahead glowed with the soft light of sunset. The air was still—like a page no one had written on yet.
Di walked slowly, step by step. He hadn't meant to come this way. It wasn't a plan, just habit. Just like it was always his habit to walk slightly behind them, never quite at the center, never too close.
Then he saw them.
At the far end of the corridor, near the tall windows, Lan stood in the light, her long hair catching the sun. Jie stood in front of her, his expression unusually quiet, almost nervous. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his smile.
And then—he leaned in, and kissed her.
It wasn't dramatic. It was light, brief, hesitant. Like he was asking, "Is this okay?"
And she didn't pull away.
In that moment, everything went silent.
Di didn't move. He didn't turn away.
He simply stood there, frozen from the inside out.
Something inside his chest collapsed—quietly, completely.
—
He didn't remember how he got out of there.
By the time he came back to himself, he was sitting on the steps of a quiet stairwell. His hands were clenched around the strap of his bag. His knuckles were pale.
He had thought he was ready.
Since the day Jie said, "Will you be my girlfriend?" he'd been rehearsing his own exit.
He had practiced being the friend, the bystander, the one who watches but never interrupts.
But he hadn't prepared for this.
He hadn't prepared for what it would feel like to actually see it happen.
To witness that quiet, irreversible moment where Jie and Lan became something more—
And he became what he had always feared:
The one who could be left out, and everything would still go on.
—
Then, a thought came to him.
What if… he were her?
At first, it was just a fleeting breeze of a thought. So light he barely noticed.
But then it returned, heavier, sharper. Like a needle piercing through his mind:
"What if I were her?"
If he had her softness, her stillness, her way of standing there and being chosen without asking—
Would Jie look at him like that?
Would Jie ever lean in, close the space, and—
Kiss him?
Even once?
The idea horrified him.
And yet—
He couldn't stop it.
He couldn't tear it out, no matter how hard he tried to press it down, to crush it, to deny that it had ever been there.
He wasn't jealous of Lan.
He wanted to be her.
He wanted what she had.
He wanted to be the one in the light, the one close enough to be touched, held.
He wanted, even just for one second, to be the person Jie could love.
—
The stairwell grew darker as the sun dipped below the windows.
Di looked up. His forehead was damp, but his eyes were dry.
And in that stillness, he finally saw the truth:
The light in his heart—it had never been Lan.
It was always Jie.
And now, he stood outside that light,
Not even brave enough to call himself its shadow.