My Love in My Youth (11)

Time passed quickly.

When I had her, life was simple, ordinary — and happy. After losing her, life became unstable, chaotic. I fell back into the internet, unable to escape.

That evening was cold. Autumn wind pierced every corner of the neighborhood. Darkness fell early. Yellow streetlights flickered among swaying tree shadows. People hurried past — going to dinners, shopping, dates. A man forgot his wallet and rushed back home, his girlfriend stamping her feet in irritation.

I was part of the crowd — a fleeting shadow beneath the lamps.

A schoolchild bounced home, trying to jump on people’s shadows as they slid beneath his feet. He failed. By the time I passed her, I could no longer turn back to see if my own shadow had been caught.

Fortunately, she was not a goddess of fate. Shadows do not bind their owners.

I hailed a cab.

I actually like buses. In their crowded cabins, everyone — regardless of background, status, temperament — is confined to the same moving box, surrendered to the driver’s will. Loud people fall silent. Elegant figures grip handrails like everyone else. No one dares lose focus when the bus pulls in.

But someone was waiting for me.

I can wait patiently for someone. But I don’t want anyone to wait for me too long. Life cannot wait. Youth cannot wait. Happiness cannot wait.

What’s laughable is — I didn’t fully understand my own decision. Why rush to meet a stranger? Why now?

Online, I was playful. Teasing was just seasoning for the soul. I had never planned to meet an online acquaintance. Maybe I once thought about it — but always backed out. Fear. Fatigue. Laziness. Fear of masks falling away when virtual selves collide with reality.

Yet that night, I was going to meet a woman I met online.

Maybe because I was a man. Or because she was a woman. Or because of curiosity. Or loneliness.

Or fate.

Stories are often made neat and dramatic. Life is dramatic — but rarely neat.

And so, I went.