Feng Mian sat by the floor-to-ceiling window in their penthouse, watching the city lights flicker against the winter night. Fireworks burst in the distance, scattering red and gold light across the night sky, illuminating the empty apartment around her.
It was Chinese New Year, a night meant for family, reunion, and promises of good fortune. Yet here she was, alone, watching as the streets below pulsed with life and laughter—celebrations she could only observe from behind glass
The table was set, each dish carefully prepared, steam still curling up from the plates. Dumplings, braised pork, fish, and even sweet lotus root—his favorites, all in the hopes that tonight would be different. She'd imagined the way his face might soften when he tasted them, the possibility that this small act might be enough to bring him back to her, if only for a moment.
She'd waited since sunset, her phone beside her, willing it to ring, to vibrate, to give her some sign that he was on his way. But was as silent as her hope.
Her hand moved to her stomach, a tiny flicker of hope stirring there. She was carrying their child, she had yet to tell him about. She had planned it so carefully, tonight's meal, the timing. She'd dreamed of sharing the news tonight, to start their new year with something beautiful. She'd thought… perhaps this could change everything.
But as the clock on the wall ticked closer to midnight, her hope dimmed.
Finally, she picked up her phone and dialed his number. The line rang, and she held her breath, listening to each ring echo in the silent apartment. She could picture him glancing at his phone, seeing her name flash on the screen, and then, as always… letting it ring out.
The line went dead. Once again, she was met with silence.
She know where he was. She always knew.
Suddenly Her phone lit up, and she reached for it quickly, her heart leaping at the thought that it might be him. But the name on the screen was Lin Jia, her best friend,the only one who truly understood what she was going through.
Lin Jia had seen her through every heartbreak, every late night spent alone, every whispered hope that tonight would be different.
Reluctantly, she picked up.
"Mian," Lin Jia's voice was gentle, careful. She didn't need to ask if Han Chen had come home, the silence on the other end was answer enough. "Are you alright? I was thinking of coming by to pick you up. You shouldn't be alone tonight."
Feng Mian glanced around the empty apartment, the carefully arranged table, the dim lights she'd left on just in case he walked through the door. She wanted to say yes, to escape the silence and warmth that felt so painfully one-sided. It would be so easy to say yes, to leave the empty apartment and the untouched food, to let someone else's laughter and warmth fill the emptiness.But a part of her held back, stubborn, clinging to the hope that maybe he'd still come.
"It's okay, Jia. He… he'll be home in the morning," she said, trying to convince herself as much as her friend.
Lin Jia's sigh was barely audible. "Mian, I just don't want you to keep hurting like this. You deserve more than waiting around for someone who—"
"Please," Feng Mian interrupted, her voice wavering. She knew her friend meant well, but she couldn't bear to hear it tonight. Not when she was holding onto the one thing that had kept her going these past few weeks. "I'll be fine. I just… I just need some rest."
There was a pause on the other end, and then a soft, reluctant, "Alright. But call me if you need anything. Promise?"
"I promise."
As she hung up, Feng Mian set the phone down and let her gaze return to the window, watching the fireworks fade, one by one, into the darkness. Her eyes drifted to the small clock on the wall. Midnight had come and gone, and with it, the last whispers of her New Year's wish.
In a few months, they would reach their three-year anniversary. Three years of marriage, three years of waiting, three years of watching him drift further away. She held onto that milestone like a lifeline, hoping that something would change by then.
But as the hours slipped away, and the lights of the city faded, Feng Mian knew she was only fooling herself.
The table remained untouched. The dishes grew cold. As the dawn broke through the window curtains gently illuminating the room with light, she got up from the chair and made her way to their room where she settled into bed pulling the covers up to her chin and placing a hand lovingly over her stomach.
As she drifted off to sleep and shut her eyes gently she could just make out the echoes of footsteps, in the hallway accompanied by the click of a key turning, in the lock.