The blare of the car horn jolted Feng Mian out of her thoughts, bringing her back to the busy street as raindrops continued to pelt down around her. She took a shaky breath, her heart pounding as she stepped back onto the curb, away from the car that had veered slightly to avoid her.
"Watch where you're going, lady!" the driver shouted, pulling down the window glass—his voice muffled by the downpour. She managed a faint nod of apology, her soaked hair clinging to her face, the rainwater mixing with the salt of her own tears.
As she stood there, catching her breath, she realized how careless she'd been, lost in her own thoughts, drifting dangerously close to the road without even noticing.
As night settled over the city, Feng Mian returned home, her steps steady and unhurried. After taking a long, warm shower to wash away the chill of the rain, she made herself a simple bowl of porridge. She stirred the pot pricesely, watching the grains soften, a calm settling over her that felt almost foreign. The heaviness that had been weighing on her chest since earlier seemed to have lifted, just a little. She couldn't explain it, but somehow, after the near-accident on the street, the turmoil in her heart had subsided.
She didn't bother checking if Han Chen would be back soon. She knew he was busy with his meetings, and for once, she didn't feel the urge to wait for him. Tonight, she just wanted to let the silence of the apartment envelop her, without expectation.
With the bowl of porridge in hand, she moved to the small dining table. She ate slowly, savoring the warmth of each bite, letting it soothe her from the inside out. When she finished, she washed the bowl, tidied up the kitchen, and headed to their bedroom.
As she lay down, her eyes wandered to the ceiling, tracing patterns in the faint shadows cast by the dim light filtering in through the curtains. For the first time in a long time, her mind felt… still. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't gone to bed with her thoughts racing, filled with endless questions and unfulfilled hopes.
Maybe it was the lingering effect of standing in the rain, of feeling the cold and wetness wash over her like a reminder of her own strength. Or maybe, it was just the realization that her waiting—her constant, endless waiting—had worn her thin.
She turned onto her side, exhaling a deep, steady breath, closing her eyes with a quiet sense of peace. The lines of worry that usually creased her brow softened, and for once, her face was serene.
Tonight, her heart was calm.Tonight, there would be no waiting.
For a week, the city had been blanketed in a steady drizzle, casting a dull, misty veil over everything. The streets, the buildings, even the people seemed subdued under the relentless rain. Today, however, there was a break in the clouds, and for the first time, a few rays of sunlight managed to pierce through, illuminating the wet streets with a soft, hesitant glow.
Feng Mian stood before a modest gravestone in the quiet, rain-soaked cemetery, her fingers tracing the carved letters of her grandfather's name. She'd missed him more than usual lately, but the rain had kept her away until now. Her grandfather was the only relative she had known, the one constant in her life who had truly cared for her.
She couldn't remember her parents—her father had passed away before she was born, and her mother had followed shortly after giving birth to her. In their absence, her grandfather had been her everything. He'd been her father, mother, mentor, and friend. He was the one who held her when she fell, who comforted her when she cried. And though she had friends now, and even a best friend, there was something irreplaceable about the bond she had with him.
Lowering herself to sit beside the grave, she whispered softly, "Grandpa, I'm here." Her voice was low, filled with a familiar ache. "Please don't be angry that I haven't visited for a while. It's not that I didn't miss you… it's just…" She paused, looking down at her hands. "It's just that my heart's been so burdened."
She hesitated, then placed a hand gently over her stomach, her gaze softening. "Grandpa, I… I'm going to have someone. Someone I can call mine. Just like you were mine."
A small, sad smile tugged at her lips. "Don't worry, though. I'm… living well. As well as I can." She didn't know if she was saying it to reassure him or herself. She sighed, then took a cloth and began to wipe the wet leaves and dirt from his gravestone, taking her time, her movements tender and deliberate. When she finished, she bowed her head in respect, then rose to leave.
As she walked away, the clouds gathered once more, casting shadows over the graveyard. It was as though the sun had only come out briefly, just for her visit.
By evening, the rain had returned, heavier than before, hammering against the windows as darkness settled over the city. Feng Mian went around the apartment, pulling all the curtains closed, enclosing herself in the warm glow of the electric lights. She couldn't explain why, but the rain tonight felt heavier, almost oppressive, pressing down on her with a sense of foreboding.
Life with Han Chen had become routine, predictable in its silence. He would come home, they would have dinner in near silence, and then he would disappear into his study or go straight to bed. He wouldn't seek her out and she didn't bothered either. She'd stopped feeling that ache, that yearning for his attention. Now, she just let things be, no longer trying too hard. They spoke when necessary, and otherwise, each went on as if the other were merely a shadow in their lives.
Tonight, as she moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner, she found herself humming a gentle melody under her breath in a long while. She glanced at the recipe she'd saved on her phone, reading through the list of ingredients as she began gathering what she needed.
Just then, the apartment was plunged into darkness. She paused, her breath catching for a moment before she registered that it was only a power outage. It was rare, but not entirely unexpected on stormy nights like this.
Sighing, she turned on the flashlight on her phone, the small beam cutting through the darkness. She stepped carefully toward the cabinet where she kept a box of candles, her mind still half-focused on dinner.
But as she reached for the cabinet, her foot caught on the edge of a low stool she'd left out earlier, and before she could stop herself, she stumbled forward, her body tumbling toward the ground.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she hit the floor, her stomach taking the brunt of the fall. Pain shot through her abdomen, sudden and fierce, and her breath caught, her body frozen in shock. An unsettling feeling twisted through her, cold and relentless, tightening around her heart.
Panic flared within her as she pressed a trembling hand to her stomach, her mind racing. She reached for her phone with shaking hands, dialing the emergency number. "Hello… please, I… I need help," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm… I'm pregnant. I need an ambulance."
She gave her address, her words barely coherent through her labored breaths. When the call ended, she immediately dialed Han Chen's number, her fingers slippery with sweat as she tried to steady herself.
But the phone rang and rang, with no one answering.
Desperation clawed at her chest as she ended the call and dialed his secretary, Jiang Wei. The phone was picked up after a few rings, Jiang Wei's voice calm and professional as he answered. "Mrs. Han?"
She barely managed to get the words out. "Where is Han Chen?" she asked, her voice strained with pain.
"He's with a friend who fell ill, Mrs. Han," Jiang Wei replied. "Is… is something wrong?"
Before she could respond, a fresh wave of pain tore through her stomach, wrenching a broken cry from her lips. Her grip on the phone loosened, and it slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor as she doubled over, writhing on the cold tiles.
The pain was like nothing she'd ever experienced—gut-wrenching and unforgiving, making it impossible to think or breathe. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, only a silent gasp as her vision blurred. Her body was slick with cold sweat, her fingers digging into the floor as she tried to hold on, fighting against the darkness closing in.
As the world faded around her, the last thing she felt was a faint flutter within her, a fragile reminder of the life she'd been so desperate to protect.
And then…the apartment was bathed in silence.