Solo Love Ballad

Chapter 5

After sitting there for about ten seconds. The damp smell brought back the oppressive shadows in my heart. Glancing at my phone, I saw it was already 12:40 PM.

“It’s gone too late; I have to go now. And thank you for lending me your bathroom and left your room.”

“Not at all.” He didn't ask me to stay; instead, he walked me to the door barefoot and watched as I got into the lift.

As the lift doors closed, the strings in my head that had been taut all night suddenly loosened.

I'm easily affected by other people's emotions, especially at that ignorant age, and I couldn't hold a melancholic man with a story like Dan's.

I stood alone outside his building for a good five minutes. Letting myself decompress.

Later， Dan texted politely via w******p： “Thank you for spending time with me tonight.”

“My pleasure.” Likewise, I responded politely.

But our conversation eventually fizzled out.

I am unsure if Dan was trying to make a move on me tonight. But for someone like me who tends to admire strength, the moment I start feeling sympathy for a man, it's game over.

Then I called an Uber, eager to get home quickly. I dated Dan tonight. I originally meant to pass the time and help me forget Max's absence. But it ended up with me listening to someone else share their story. And how am I supposed to process my own story? With this lingering confusion, I unknowingly drifted off to sleep.

On Sunday, I slept in late. My emotional ups and downs require no less physical effort than a four—or five-hour hike up a mountain.

My mind was slowly waking up, but my eyes refused to open as if opening them meant I had to face things I didn't want to deal with. I just wanted to be like an ostrich, burying its head in the sand.

I dreaded getting a message from Max, dreading his cloudy descriptions of how fast the weekend had been without me, but dreading not receiving one from him even more.

Have any other girls been like me at that moment? Waiting for a message but deliberately turning off the internet.

On the one hand, it's a way to physically prevent me from constantly checking our chat; on the other hand, it's also a subtle way of trying to message me on w******p that only shows one tick (usually one tick is sent and not received, and two ticks are both sent and received). So they might worry about you because there's only one tick.

It was indeed clownish behavior, now that I think about it. But the tricks played themselves out when they were smitten.

I got up, got some food, attempted to read a book, and even did homework. But by 3 PM, I gave up and turned off airplane mode.

Then I wandered into a nearby supermarket, trying to distract my mind from constantly dwelling on Max. At the checkout, I ran into a French-Palatine man who had just finished working out and was there to grab some water.

Hong Kong is such a small place; it's easy to bump into acquaintances. Is that a blessing or a curse for someone like me, who often swipes on Tinder?

"Hi, how was your weekend?" the French-Palatine man asked, his post-workout adrenaline practically shining in his eyes.

"Hi, not bad. Funny running into you," I replied, masking my low spirits with a playful tone.

"Well then, how about grabbing a drink? I know a nice café nearby."

Going home meant being alone, so I nodded.

"How about you? Anything new recently?" the French-Palatine man asked directly as we sat down.

"Not bad, the same as usual. What about you? Working out nearby?"

"Yeah, a new tennis court opened nearby. Do you play tennis?"

"Yep, sure."

"It's been a while since we last talked after we parted ways. We could play tennis together sometime.

"Sure, sounds good," I said with a nod.

"You didn't message me afterwards," he complained.

I took a sip of coffee, buying myself a moment. "Well, now that we're sitting here, isn't this us reconnecting?"

He laughed. "Yes, yes, and we'll schedule tennis too."

Time flew by as we chatted and joked, and before I knew it, dusk had fallen.

"I'm meeting friends for dinner later. What about you? Any plans?" he asked, getting ready to leave.

"Heading home to finish my homework," I replied.

He gave me a sceptical look, laughed, and disappeared into the crowd.

I was expecting a flood of messages.

But there were only a few from friends and random app notifications. Max's messages remained quiet as ever.

So I opened w******p, my finger hovering over the message input.

I wanted to send him a message and tried to keep the tone light, but even after repeatedly thinking about it, it still didn't feel right.

I was already the one he pushed to the back of his mind by the weekend. I wanted to be someone other than the one who was always more eager.

So even though I had sent him a hundred messages in my mind, I held back.

Max finally messaged me at 6 p.m. When I opened the message, a bunch of photos came through. All look like they were taken earlier on a boat. I remembered a few people there. I'd see them at Max's friend's restaurant soft opening party.

Max was wearing beach shorts with big banana leaf prints and sunglasses and holding a summery cocktail. He looked pleased, with his hands casually around the waists and shoulders of girls in bikinis. He only sent the photos with no words attached.

I was frustrated. What was he doing? Was he showing off how much fun he was having over the weekend? Did he even care about me? Thinking about this, I deliberately didn't reply.

After a while, Max sent another message.

"Hi Fye, Would you like to have dinner together?"