Chapter 6: If We Meet Again

Her Instagram rarely updated after 2016, and in recent years, almost not at all. Soon, I reached the end.

I sat there, phone in hand, lost in thought. The sun was setting, painting the room in amber and blue shadows. Outside, the city lights blinked on one by one, and the familiar skyline of my neighborhood glowed in the golden hour. I felt like I was holding someone else’s life in my palm.

As dusk fell, I finally messaged Grace: “I’m free at six tomorrow night.”

Grace had invited me to dinner.

Before, I’d always ignored her, but now I was curious. I wanted to know why she wanted to meet me. I wanted answers, even if I wasn’t sure I could handle them.

The restaurant was brightly lit at six. She was punctual. When I arrived, she smiled. After I sat down, she said, “You seem so sweet, like I used to be.” She paused, then added, “Just like I used to be.”

I looked at her, silent. Her attitude was strange—a mix of malice and pity. Then she said, “So, I’m not mad that Ethan picked you.”

Then she showed me a video.

It must have been taken recently, shot from a distance, the audio faint. I watched closely. In the video, Grace was hugging Ethan’s waist, voice choked with tears, apologizing again and again, finally asking, almost crying, “Ethan, I was wrong. Can we start over?”

Ethan’s hands hung at his sides. After a long pause, he reached out and put his hand on Grace’s head.

The video ended there.

Luckily, I’d already read her Instagram, so I could keep my composure. I tried hard not to show any emotion. She took back her phone and said, “I don’t know if you believe it, but Ethan can never refuse me.”

“You might find our relationship strange. I’m not afraid to tell you, I wronged Ethan before.”

“That was in 2016. I’d just given birth to Crabby less than a year earlier. Postpartum depression made me moody. At the time, Ethan’s company was restructuring, the tech industry was booming, and he was busy, often gone for days. Then I cheated on him.”

“Of course, he forgave me. Hard to believe, right? For someone like Ethan, there’s no bottom line when it comes to me. He tolerated and forgave everything. He even blamed himself—said it was because I was unstable after childbirth, because he was too busy and neglected me. He took all the blame, and then forgave me, painfully.”

I looked at her. She laughed, but the laughter was hollow. Her face looked desolate, with deep regret and self-mockery: “I loved Ethan, but I couldn’t resist temptation. I don’t know what was wrong with me…” Her hands fidgeted with her napkin, eyes darting to the window, unable to meet mine.

I know Ethan is a reserved and mature man, always saying little and doing much. Grace seems like someone who needs a lot of love. Since childhood, her family and Ethan doted on her. After Crabby was born, the family’s attention shifted to the child. A brief period of neglect may have left a gap. At that time, a handsome young man was attentive and sweet-talking to her.

It’s not hard to understand why she’d fall for it and betray Ethan.

“But in 2018, that man came back to find me. I couldn’t resist… I really thought we could part peacefully, just see him one last time…” That happened to be when Ethan’s company was about to go public. When she met the man for the last time, he stole Ethan’s IPO documents and sold them to a competitor…

Grace spoke tactfully, but I understood. What kind of ‘last meeting’ would allow that man to steal confidential company files? It must have been at home, where he let his guard down. Grace brought him home.

That explained why I saw so much happiness in their past, but in the end, they fell apart. This must have been the last straw for Ethan.

Grace smiled at me: “After that, he never forgave me. I told him he could cheat once, find another woman, and we’d be even.” Her smile grew bitter. “But he refused, insisted on divorcing me. And then you appeared.”

“I heard you two are planning a wedding? But you know, Ethan loves me. He’s just angry, just wants to punish me. He’ll never give up on me. We’ve been through more than you can imagine.”

“So, I hope you can be sensible.”

The huge crystal chandelier shone down, so bright that no expression could hide. Her face was calm, her words so certain, but the redness at the corners of her eyes betrayed her anxiety and bravado.

I don’t know why, but I felt a little sad—sad for her, sad for myself. I’ve never had her Ethan Caldwell, but now, she should realize she’s about to lose him, too. A lump formed in my throat, my chest heavy with a grief I couldn’t quite name.

I didn’t hide this conversation from Ethan. I didn’t even speak. I recorded the whole thing and played it for him.

He was silent for a long time, then explained, “I pushed her away.”

He meant the video. The last thing I saw was him putting his hand on Grace’s head. The next moment, he must have pushed her away. I guess Grace didn’t get the reconciliation she wanted, so she brought this misleading video to confront me.

She panicked, maybe because things weren’t going as she expected.

I believe Ethan.

But I still broke up with him.

It might sound unbelievable. Ethan tried to keep me, calmly explaining, “I’m with you not because of that ‘I can cheat once too’ thing, nor for revenge, but because you are you. There’s no going back for me and Grace.”

I smiled faintly. I don’t know if he can understand—even if Grace hadn’t said those things, when I saw his ex-wife’s Instagram, we were already impossible.

I said a dignified goodbye. When I reached the door, the sound of it closing behind me echoed in the hallway, sharp and final. For some reason, I turned to look at him.

He stood at the entrance, staring blankly at my back, as if he couldn’t figure it out. But he didn’t try to stop me again. Adults always part with grace. Clinging only makes things awkward.

Besides, I was never that important to him.

He gave me beautiful promises. I believe he sincerely wanted to marry me, but I was too easily replaced. I remembered how quickly he’d filled the empty spaces in his life after Grace, how I’d stepped in without ever really being let in.

I don’t know if you can understand. I’m only in my twenties, with countless hopes and dreams for the future and for love. I hope I can meet an Ethan Caldwell—the Ethan who once belonged to Grace, long ago.

That man would cook for me, take me out to eat, plan trips with me, walk dogs and go for night runs, renovate our home together, have countless close friends in common. I’d know all his social media passwords, and he’d give me all his bank cards to keep. We’d discuss every wedding detail, fuss over flowers and balloons, prepare for pregnancy together, welcome new life, go through everything together, and grow old…

These are all things Ethan experienced with someone else, and can never give me again.

All his time and energy, all his hopes and surprises, all his disappointments and pain, all the most intense emotions in his life—he’s already given them to another woman, and their lives are so deeply entwined. Maybe he’s sincere with me, maybe he just wants me to save him from a painful marriage, but there’s only one Grace—no one can replace her.

But I can. I can be replaced by countless others, because to him, I’m just a suitable partner. Anyone who matches his temperament could become me.

Just like in The Little Prince—the rose is important to the little prince not because it’s unique, but because he spent so much time on it. I remember reading that book in high school, like everyone else. That’s what makes it unique to him.

I don’t want to be a substitute. I want to be someone’s one and only rose.

So Ethan and I—we were never meant to last.

He wants me to save him, but I can’t save anyone. This relationship has left me battered by constant doubts. I can’t even protect myself—maybe I’ll need someone else to save me.

I know it’s hard, but love is always for the brave. I’ve been hurt, but I’m still full of courage. I know I’ll meet that person. Maybe I’ll open my own dance studio someday, or travel across the country, chasing the sun. I have dreams left to chase.

Postscript: Ethan Caldwell

Grace called me. She slipped in the bathroom and wanted me to come over.

She’s used this excuse countless times since our divorce, but I really have no patience anymore. I sighed and cut her off: “Call the family doctor.” I paused. “If your phone isn’t nearby, should I call for you? Or maybe call your new young boyfriend?”

The sobbing stopped. I hung up.

It’s strange. In this world, some people say they love you, beg you to come back, act like they can’t live without you, but there’s always someone else around them. I don’t blame Grace. She was spoiled. She never learned to give, only to receive. She doesn’t need me. She just wants the love I used to give. But I’m really tired.

I lay on the balcony in a daze. Dusk was falling. The orange and gray clouds layered across the sky, the city humming below. I looked down and saw the cactus on the balcony, a common houseplant here, still cared for by Lila. We’ve been apart for over a year. Not long ago, I saw on her social media that she’s dating someone her own age, and it’s stable.

That’s good. I’m happy for her.

When she left, she kept looking at me, her dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She said I couldn’t give her the love she wanted, said she was too easily replaced. I didn’t argue.

The age gap between us is too large. At my age, love isn’t a necessity. If fate brings us together, we meet; if not, we part. That’s life. She has her own dreams. I don’t want to force her to stay.

She’s wonderful—young, beautiful, passionate about her career, full of hope and dreams for life, like the main character in a coming-of-age movie: sunlight through summer trees, warm but not scorching, bursting with energy.

But I’m different. I have a failed marriage, a child, responsibilities and obligations. I can’t give her all my love with the same purity and intensity. My most passionate years are behind me; I can’t be her peer through youth.

Sometimes I feel unworthy of her. After leaving me, she can find someone better, more suitable. But I can’t let her see my insecurity.

I used my experience to win her, attracted her with maturity and steadiness, arranged everything for her. Men in their thirties don’t talk about love and romance, only about responsibility and duty. But that’s not what she wanted.

Still, I think of her sometimes.

Since childhood, I was taught to respect and give. My parents were loving. The family atmosphere made me believe in marriage. I was willing to do anything for my partner.

But that kind of giving is sometimes unequal. It’s exhausting.

But I never told Lila. She had a way of comforting me—she didn’t need to do anything, just being there was enough. She was quiet, tried hard to understand my feelings, tried to create surprises, was afraid to trouble me. But she didn’t know, as long as it was her, it wasn’t trouble.

I was happy to be bothered by her, happy to use matching avatars, happy to get her messages at any time. Even if we did nothing, just lying quietly together, it was enough.

I always pursued perfection and excellence, but I really don’t understand women. Just like Lila said, she believed I liked her, but she still wanted to leave.

I close my eyes and remember helping her choreograph. In the big dance studio, mirrors reflected her spinning figure. After finishing work in the study, I’d go watch her. I’d lean on the studio door, watching her practice, her bangs damp with sweat. When she spun and saw me, her eyes lit up with surprise and joy.

Her smile would overflow from her bright eyes. She’d leap lightly into my arms, raise her hands around my neck, her clear, happy voice ringing in my ear: “Ethan, you’re here.”

Yes, I’m here. I always have been.

I don’t like to force anyone or take by force, but I think—give me and Lila another chance. If her romance with someone her own age doesn’t work out, I’ll appear before her on a sunny afternoon, the city traffic humming in the background, the scent of summer in the air.

I’ll pretend it’s a perfect coincidence, smile, and ask, “What a coincidence, want to have dinner together?”

Maybe fate will decide. If there’s another chance, will I be brave enough to take it?