The first time I saw her, she was holding someone else's hand. I glanced at her and walked away.
The second time I saw her, she leaned against my shoulder to pick up food. My chopsticks fell, and so did my heart.
I knew right then: I was done for. Later, we kissed in the stairwell and did much more on the rooftop. I thought that was the beginning. But she said, “We won't get married. You should find a man to marry.”
I agreed, because I couldn't bear to let her go.
For three years, she kept saying there was nothing she could do. She never dared to choose me. When she said, “We're not that kind of relationship anymore,” I realized she'd already been with someone else for over a month.
On September 29, they moved in together. On October 1, I nearly couldn't hold on. But I survived.
Not because I was waiting for her to come back, but because I was waiting for myself to grow new wings.
Her WeChat account hasn't changed. Neither has mine.
I just don't wait for her anymore. I've started moving forward.
