I stayed when he started the studio.
The first office had only four desks.
When it rained, water leaked through the ceiling.
Luc Thoi Yen drew designs.
I handled clients.
He went to construction sites.
I stayed awake correcting presentations.
He once held my hand and said:
—Du An, wait until the company stabilizes.
—Then we’ll get married.
So I waited.
One year.
Three years.
Five years.
By the eighth year, the company had already moved into a thirty-story building.
Luc Thoi Yen had become “Teacher Luc.”
And somehow, the wedding was still waiting for the right time.
I finally understood.
The problem was never time.
It was priority.
Three days before I left for Hangzhou, I packed my suitcase.
Luc Thoi Yen came home at eleven forty.
He saw it beside the wardrobe.
—Business trip?
—Yes.
—How long?
—Three months.
His hand stopped while unbuttoning his cuff.
—Three months?
I nodded.
—Hangzhou cultural tourism project.
—Why didn’t you tell me?
I folded another shirt.
—I’m telling you now.
His expression darkened.
—When did you decide?
—Monday.
It was Thursday.
He stared at me.
—You signed a three-month contract without discussing it with me?
I looked up.
—When Wen Ninh went to Suzhou, did you discuss it with me before deciding to accompany her?
He immediately frowned.
—That’s work.
—I know.
I smiled.
—This is also work.
He was silent.
Then he asked:
—Are you angry about Wen Ninh?
I almost laughed.
That was the problem.
Even now, he thought everything revolved around another woman.
—No.
—Then what’s wrong with you lately?
I closed the suitcase.
—Nothing.
His voice became impatient.
—Du An, don’t do this.
—Do what?
—Act indifferent.
I looked at him for a long time.
—I’m not acting.
That sentence finally frightened him.
The next morning, he woke earlier than usual.
When I came downstairs, breakfast was already on the table.
He had bought my favorite rice rolls.
—I’ll drive you to the airport on Monday.
—Train station.
He corrected himself.
—Then I’ll take you to the station.
—No need.
His chopsticks stopped.
—Why?
—You have the Wen Ninh project review.
—I’ll move it.
I smiled.
—Don’t.
—She needs you.
He stared at me.
—You’re mocking me.
—I’m serious.
And I was.
For years, I had arranged my life around Luc Thoi Yen.
Now I was simply returning his time to him.
On Monday morning, I left alone.
At 9:13, while the train was already moving, his message arrived.
“Where are you?”
“On the train.”
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then:
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
I replied:
“You slept late.”
Five minutes later:
“When will you come back?”
“Three months.”
This time, there was no reply.
Hangzhou became the first place in eight years where my days belonged entirely to me.
I worked.
Visited construction sites.
Changed the original design twice.
Argued with investors.
Walked alone beside the river after midnight.
For the first time, I didn’t check whether Luc Thoi Yen had eaten.
Didn’t remind him about medicine.
Didn’t wait for his messages.
Strangely, he began sending more.
“Did you eat?”
“It’s raining in Hangzhou. Take an umbrella.”
“The weather is getting colder.”
“Call me when you’re free.”
Sometimes I replied.
Sometimes I didn’t.
One month later, he arrived without warning.
I walked out of the construction office and saw him standing beside a black car.
He looked tired.
—Why are you here?
His lips tightened.
—Meeting.
I glanced around.
—In a construction zone?
He finally admitted:
—I came to see you.
I said nothing.
He followed me toward the temporary office.
—Du An.
—Yes?
—How much longer are you going to stay like this?
I stopped.
—Like what?
His voice lowered.
—Like you don’t need me anymore.
There it was.
Not:
“Are you unhappy?”
Not:
“Did I hurt you?”
What frightened Luc Thoi Yen was losing his place in my routine.
I asked:
—Do you remember the night I won the designer award?
His expression changed.
—Yes.
—Where were you?
—Suzhou.
—With Wen Ninh.
He immediately said:
—Nothing happened between us.
—I know.
He looked confused.
I continued:
—That’s why this isn’t about cheating.
—It’s about the fact that I had the most important night of my career and didn’t even think it was worth asking you to come anymore.
He went completely still.
I smiled faintly.
—Do you understand?
—By the time I stopped waiting, there wasn’t even another woman to blame.
For the first time, Luc Thoi Yen looked genuinely lost.
He whispered:
—I thought we had time.
Eight years.
I almost laughed.
—You always thought we had time.
He reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
—Du An, after this project, let’s get married.
Those were once the words I wanted most.
Now they sounded like an emergency repair.
I shook my head.
His face paled.
—Why?
—Because I don’t want a proposal that only appeared after you noticed I could leave.
He stayed in Hangzhou one night.
The next morning, he returned home alone.
Three months later, my project was completed.
It won the company’s largest cultural design contract of the year.
I also accepted an offer to become design director of a newly established independent division.
When I returned, Luc Thoi Yen was waiting outside my apartment.
He held a small velvet box.
I didn’t need to see inside.
—Du An.
I stopped.
He smiled bitterly.
—Eight years ago, you said you’d wait for me.
—I did.
His eyes reddened.
I continued:
—But you never asked how long I could wait.
Silence.
He slowly closed the box.
—Is there really no chance?
I looked at the man I had loved from twenty-two to thirty.
There was no hatred.
That was how I knew it was over.
—I hope you become someone who knows how to cherish what’s beside you.
—But I don’t want to spend another eight years teaching you.
I walked past him.
Luc Thoi Yen finally understood that I had not changed suddenly.
There had been no dramatic betrayal.
No scandal.
No single day that destroyed us.
He had simply postponed loving me properly for so long that one day, I learned how to live without waiting.
And when he finally wanted to give me the future I had begged for—
I had already built one that no longer needed him in it.
