The night Su Nian got a call from the hospital, her grandfather told her his final wish from his bed: he wanted to see her marry Lu Shiyan.
The marriage promise their families had made when they were children had been put aside for years. Lu Shiyan hurried back from overseas, and they both agreed in front of the old man. On the day they registered their marriage, the civil affairs bureau clerk congratulated them. Neither of them replied.
Their three-year marriage began with a promise, not love. Lu Shiyan was gentle and courteous, taking good care of her, but always keeping an invisible distance. Su Nian thought he had someone else in his heart: the old photograph hidden deep in his study, the female business partner who worked seamlessly with him. He never explained. Lu Shiyan thought she didn’t want to be bound by their engagement: an old diary described how she had resisted it when she was young. He had read the beginning and made up his mind for her.
Neither asked. Neither spoke. They lived under the same roof in silence.
It wasn’t until Su Nian placed the divorce papers on the dining table that anything changed. He signed without looking at her once. After she moved out, he sat alone in the empty apartment all night. Then he found the letter her grandfather had left for her. On the back, in her handwriting, was a single line: Grandpa, I tried. But it seems he doesn’t need me.
He clenched the letter until his knuckles turned white.
Some people only learn to draw close after they’ve lost someone. The first lesson she taught him was regret.
