The silence that followed wasn't heavy—it was fragile. Like glass that might shatter with the wrong word.
Fu Jian finally spoke. "Why are you telling me all of this now?"
Yu Sicong looked at him with quiet intensity.
"Because I'm tired of hiding. I've been hiding behind expectations, behind my father's shadow, behind the image of perfection for so long.
But the only time I felt honest—truly honest—was when I was with you. Even if you didn't know it."
Fu Jian turned his head slowly, looking back at the photos lining the wall. The laughter. The quiet moments. The things no one else noticed but Yu Sicong somehow did.
All this time, he thought he was the one chasing. Thought Yu Sicong was just cold, uninterested, and distant.
But now…
Now it felt like the ground under his feet was changing.
Like he'd been reading only the surface of a book when all the real feelings were written between the lines.
