I’d rather just be alone.” If he could let go of her hands and let her get up, that would be better. He had always known she didn’t like being touched, and he hadn’t touched her for several years, but now he was holding her again, making her feel uncomfortable.
Still, a pitiful rejection.
Tang Hua felt a long-forgotten weariness and sense of powerlessness resurface because of the same woman.
Tang Hua, known as the lucky son, could never achieve one wish: to have his wife accept him, to not be afraid of him. Gazing at her delicate, cautious, downcast face, he let the heaviness slowly occupy the space. No matter how much she had changed, would he always be the person she rejected?
Why did his heart, already deemed emotionless, ache so intensely? He had once been so, so madly in love with her, and though the memories of his past efforts might now seem unbearable, they still existed.
How easy was it to stop thinking?
Suppressing various thoughts and chaos, he finally said:
“Okay, go back to Taichung. Be careful on the road. I’ll call you.”
He helped her up, handed her over to Du Feifan, and said nothing more.
Love had become an old wound, past events now dim.
Letting her go, allowing emptiness to fill the space. For a moment, Tang Hua was even jealous of Du Feifan. She was a woman, and completely trusted by Su Su.
That was a luck he could never seek.
“Dad,” Tang Xuexian called softly.
“Let’s go to Grandma’s,” he held his son’s hand, walking together to the parking area. After watching Du Feifan’s car drive away, he also drove off.
He looked unhappy in the photograph.
After a day of back-and-forth travel yesterday, Xiao Su Su, who should have slept until late morning, entered the study early in the morning. She browsed the family photo album shelf and finally pulled out an album marked “Xuexian’s First Year”.
Then she stared blankly at a photograph. In the photo, Tang Hua was holding his one-year-old son about to cut a cake, with people around him laughing heartily, while Tang Hua’s smile looked tired and distracted.
