Nostalgic love story
She once knitted a scarf for him.
That was seven years ago.
Back then, they were in love, in the same city, attending the same school. The long-haired girl from the neighboring class used to be his favorite.
Their love moved everyone, and no one could avoid envying the pair always holding hands as they walked together.
She knitted a scarf for him, clumsily, stitch by stitch, burning the midnight oil, weaving her emotions into it. In those days, nearly everyone in love wore a clumsy yet filled-with-love scarf around their necks. No one laughed at its simplicity, and no one criticized its style. Because that was love.
In the seven years that followed, they broke up. Then got back together. They stayed together all along.
The bumpy and difficult roads they walked were hard to describe.
Seven years later, they had both matured. He became the vice president of a trading company, always looking sharp in a suit.
She gave up all her life and career for him, following him to the unfamiliar city of Beijing. This city was bustling, and in its transparent air, she couldn’t see any freely flying birds. Every day, she would look at the blue sky from the transparent glass window on the 21st floor. She couldn’t find her own sky anymore.
He often came home late. She could smell the mixed scents of perfumes on him, though she didn’t mention it. Once mentioned, it would inevitably lead to a breakup. At 27, she no longer had the courage to face brokenness. Many nights, she waited alone in the dark, crying and reminiscing.
That year, he had once stood in line all night to buy her a ticket for her favorite singer’s concert, spending half a year’s savings.
That year, he waited in the freezing cold with his frostbitten hands just to spend a little more time with her, standing at the entrance of the bustling girls’ dormitory.
That year, he ran several kilometers to get the sweet-scented osmanthus cake she loved, holding it in his hands, his eyes filled with caring love.
But where had all this gone?
Indeed, time once passed never returns.
She made a decision, not allowing herself any regrets. During those silly years of his, she had been moved and silently promised herself that she would stay with him forever. She never imagined that after just a few years, the feelings she thought would last a lifetime would scatter in the midst of fragmented memories.
He must not love her anymore. He was just clinging to old feelings, unwilling to push her out of his life.
In seven years, he had become a successful man, while she remained her calm and quiet self, still keeping her unfashionably straight long hair, without any dye, without any change. Over more than ten years, day after day, she went from flourishing to declining, like an outdated silk flower, retaining its once beautiful shape but faded in color and quality by time, just like their love.
Later, they still got married. Naturally and unremarkably. There were no surprises or accidents. He would certainly marry her; she was always his hometown, his first infatuation, and his final destination.
But she wasn’t happy. She was still accustomed to enduring, though their relationship had borne fruit. In this enormous city, she didn’t have to worry about making a living. She only needed to quietly and unquestioningly wait, and he would provide her with everything she needed.
But she got used to looking at the azure sky alone every day, and accompanying the boundless darkness at night. Such days became a habit.
One weekend, he suddenly said he would take her out for a walk. She followed him woodenly. When they arrived at their destination, she stood in the square waiting for him to park the car. A loving young couple walked towards her, their faces reddened by the cold, their body language showing intimate affection. They wore scarves of the same color around their necks. She was suddenly overwhelmed, tears streaming down uncontrollably.
He had long forgotten the scarf he once had, which was handmade by the girl he loved most, knitted with emotions and promises during long nights. Now, it was just a memory, belonging to their youth. It was her only proof of their past love.
Now, they were together. She remained the same, but he had changed. Even if she had the energy to knit another scarf, he wouldn’t have the courage to wear it.
That was the silly part of love, which only love could give.
It always happens this way because this is life.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
