The hotel lobby was air-conditioned and cool, but Lan couldn't settle her heart.
She sat on the cushioned bench by the window, glanced down at her phone, then looked again toward the elevator.
It had been more than half an hour since their agreed meeting time.
She didn't know what was keeping Jie and Di, and she didn't dare call them. It felt like as long as she stayed here waiting, nothing would truly begin—and nothing would really end.
—
People came and went.
Some were checking out with their luggage, some dragging tired feet to check in, others leaving for distant places—or returning home.
And she… just sat quietly, as if time itself had forgotten her.
Through the glass wall of the lobby, she looked outside at the bright sunlight.
Amid the noisy traffic and hurried footsteps, it felt like everyone else knew where they belonged.
Except her.
She just sat here, while the ticking clock reminded her again and again: it was time to go.
—
She had always known the true reason for this trip.
Or rather, she had never forgotten it.
She just didn't want to reach that destination too quickly. Didn't want to face the answer that might shatter everything she now held dear.
So that day on the high-speed train, when Jie suddenly said they should get off mid-journey to see the sea, she didn't hesitate. In fact, she was the first to stand up and follow him.
It wasn't impulse.
She just wanted… a little more time.
—
She really did want to meet her birth parents.
She wanted to know if they were doing well, if they had aged, if they had other children.
But precisely because she wanted to meet them, she was afraid.
—
Afraid that they really were doing well—and that their happiness had come from not having her in their lives.
—
The thought hit her like lightning, leaving her frozen for a moment.
She lowered her head, fingers absentmindedly circling the strap of her bag, over and over again.
—
She wasn't without a home.
Her adoptive parents had always treated her as their own, giving her warmth and protection, never making her feel like she didn't belong.
She should feel grateful. She should feel content.
But memory… never leaves quietly.
—
She still remembered that pedestrian overpass.
She had been eight. A woman she didn't recognize held her by the hand, saying she had to go with her. The woman spoke quickly, urgently. Lan didn't understand, only knew to cry, to scream, "I don't want to go!" and "I want to go home!"
But she couldn't even say where "home" was.
—
The noise of traffic, the rush of footsteps—she remembered turning around again and again, trying to spot a familiar figure.
She couldn't recall the face, the clothes, or even if anyone had really been there.
She only knew that ever since that day, she had stopped asking where she came from.
—
She had never asked for the truth.
Had never dreamed about it either.
But today, for some reason, all those memories were rising up again, one layer at a time.
—
She bit her lip lightly. Her eyes felt warm, but she stayed still.
She didn't want anyone to see her this way.
—
"Lan!"
A familiar voice broke through the air, sharp and clear.
She looked up and saw Jie hurrying toward her—Di following close behind.
—
She stood up, ready to speak—only to pause in surprise when she saw Di.
—
He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, far too warm for the summer heat.
His eyes were red—not exactly like he'd just cried, but like he had just barely wiped the tears away.
As if he'd only just come back from something breaking inside him.
—
In that moment, Lan suddenly realized—
She wasn't the only one afraid of the truth.
Di, too, was carrying a secret no one had dared to touch.
And strangely…
She felt something she hadn't expected.
Relief.
Relief that they'd come.
Relief that they were still here with her.