I'm Waiting for You to Come Back

That night, she was taken away, and my world collapsed. The words "cooperate with the investigation" on the phone are like the hand stretched out by fate, pushing life into the abyss. I groped in the darkness with my two young children, my elderly mother, and my longing that had nowhere to go. The lawyer's terminology, the silence of my friends, and the ringing of the clock at night all made me understand that life is about learning to breathe in the abyss. I started writing, using her signature pen. The stacked pages of the diary became my wall against despair. The child's smile, the mother's nagging, the kindness of my friends - these subtle lights have become the reason for me to live on during the long winter nights. I learned to be tough in the wind and snow. She and I were separated by fate, but in our respective loneliness, we grew up together and waited together. When spring comes, I finally no longer seek results, but use my own hands to mend the cracks in my life. Writing becomes prayer, waiting becomes practice. I once thought that the storm would destroy everything, but I didn't know that it could also rebuild a heart. When I wrote on the last page of my diary - "She will come back eventually" - at that moment, I had walked from the cold and silent night to the dawn of light.