In the afternoon, Susu met a friend for coffee.
She had known him longer than Yike.
They had met months ago on a different social app—
back when things still felt open, undefined.
There had been a moment when she thought something might grow between them.
Slowly. Naturally.
But that moment had passed.
The café was filled with light.
Sunshine settled between them, warm and polite.
He spoke easily.
She responded when expected—small smiles, nods at the right pauses.
Yet her thoughts refused to stay.
They drifted elsewhere.
To Yike.
To the way he spoke, never rushing.
To the quiet before his messages, as if he considered every word.
To the message he had sent that morning—casual, restrained, but unmistakably present.
Being offline changed things.
It stripped away imagination.
And in doing so, it made everything clearer.
The man across from her was kind.
Attentive.
Perfectly reasonable.
And still—not what she wanted.
She understood this without drama, without guilt.
After finishing her coffee, she excused herself and left early,
heading toward the subway.
That evening, she met Coco for dinner—
a close friend, someone she trusted completely.
Susu wore a muted violet-gray qipao patterned with roses.
She hadn't overthought it.
She simply felt like wearing it.
Coco paused when she saw her.
"You look beautiful."
Susu smiled.
Maybe it was the ease of being with a friend.
Maybe the relief of being seen without explanation.
Or maybe it was the lingering warmth from the night before.
They talked over dinner—
about the past year,
the emotional ups and downs,
the quiet exhaustion of work and expectations.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
On their way to the subway, Susu slowed.
Her heel stung.
They stopped at a nearby pharmacy.
As the shop owner handed her a bandage, she looked up and said,
"That dress really suits you."
"Thank you," Susu replied.
Coco glanced at her and smiled.
"You know," she said, softer now,
"you've been looking better lately.
Leaving the wrong things behind… it shows."
Susu nodded.
"We'll be okay."
They hugged before parting.
On the escalator, Susu reached for her phone—out of habit.
There were messages from Yike.
Where are you?
Are you done?
Would tonight work for you?
She typed back.
Just finished. On the subway now. About an hour.
Yes. I miss you.
His reply came almost instantly.
I miss you too.
Should I bring protection?
She smiled to herself.
Yes.
A bit later I'll head over. I'll let you know before I leave.
Hot water still working at the hotel?
It is, she replied. No outages.
Good, he sent back. That question almost broke my self-control.
She laughed quietly.
I'll be waiting.
The subway ride felt longer than usual.
She scrolled through headlines, stray messages—anything to distract herself.
As she exited the station, her phone buzzed again.
I'm free now.
Okay. I'm heading back to the hotel.
Would it be alright if you came downstairs to meet me?
Of course.
Back in her room, she checked—
clean towels, an extra toothbrush.
She texted him.
We've got towels and a toothbrush. Need anything else?
That's perfect, he replied immediately.
I'll be there in about five minutes. Does that work?
Yes.
She went downstairs a little early and waited outside the hotel.
The June evening air was cool, almost gentle.
Another message appeared.
I'm stopping to grab something. Want anything?
No, she replied. Just come.
A few minutes later, she saw him.
He stopped when he reached her.
"You look…"
He paused, searching for the right word.
"Incredibly beautiful tonight."
Then, more quietly,
"Even more than yesterday.
There's something about you—
you look mature. And it suits you."
She froze for a moment.
Just like the night before, all she could say was,
"Thank you."
She liked how direct he was.
How little he hid.
And still—
a flicker of unease passed through her.
Everything felt almost too perfect.
Too quick.
Too fragile.
She wondered how long something like this could last.
But even if it was brief,
she wanted it.
Life had already taken enough.
She wanted to keep this moment—just for now.
As she stood there, lost in thought,
Yike reached out and took her hand.
His hand was warm.
Larger than hers.
They didn't speak.
They simply walked inside together.
The elevator doors closed softly.
And they went upstairs,
back to the room.