Water Lily

18

The parasol leaf oil painting in the studio was still wet, the scent of turpentine mingling with gardenia perfume—familiar smells that had defined this period of his life. Lin Yan sat on the rattan chair, his fingertips repeatedly brushing the parasol leaf necklace in his pocket—Su Wan’s gift, now burning like a hot iron against his skin. He took a deep breath, looked up at Su Wan who was mixing paints, his voice dry as sandpaper scraping: "Wanwan, we... need to end this."

Su Wan’s brush froze mid-air, paint dripping onto the canvas and spreading into a dark stain. She turned around, her eyes filled with shock, as if she couldn’t believe her ears: "What did you say?"

"I said, this is the end," Lin Yan avoided her gaze, looking at the falling parasol leaves outside the window—each one like the lamp Song Xiaoran left on late at night. "I’m sorry to Xiaoran, sorry to Le Le, and most of all, sorry to this family. I can’t go on like this."

He’d been holding these words in for a long time. Last week, Le Le had a fever while Lin Yan was "on a business trip" at Su Wan’s studio. Song Xiaoran had taken the child to the hospital alone, sending a message at 3 AM: "Le Le’s fever broke. Don’t worry, focus on your work." Staring at the smiling emoji in the message, then at Su Wan sleeping soundly beside him, guilt had surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him. And just two days ago, when he’d come home, Song Xiaoran had been tidying his study. She’d found the old notebook he’d hidden in the drawer, pointing at the parasol leaf sketch inside and smiling: "So you liked parasol leaves even in university. I wish we’d used them as decorations at our wedding." Her smile was so pure, without a shred of doubt—yet it made Lin Yan feel utterly despicable.

"Sorry to Xiaoran?" Su Wan laughed, tears suddenly filling her eyes. "What about me, Lin Yan? What am I to you? A lonely pastime? A tool to make up for your youthful regrets?" She strode over to him, grabbing his arm, her nails digging almost into his flesh. "You’re the one who said you liked me, who couldn’t let me go, who stayed with me time and time again. And now you just want to end it with a single sentence?"

Lin Yan’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed, the pain making it hard to breathe. He thought of her vulnerable look in the bar, her tearful plea to stay during their business trip, her dependence and tenderness these past months—all of it had been real. His obsession with her had been real too. But this reality was built on lies and betrayal of Song Xiaoran. "I know I’m sorry to you," he gently pried her hands off his arm, his voice choking. "But I can’t keep being wrong. Xiaoran... she’s never done anything to hurt me. She’s given so much to this family. I can’t destroy her."

"Destroy her?" Su Wan’s tears fell, hitting the back of his hand, cold as ice. "Then it’s okay to destroy me? Do you know why I can’t live without you, Lin Yan? Because all these years, only you see me as Su Wan—not Mrs. Shen, not the Su family’s daughter, just me. Shen Ze doesn’t love me, my parents only care about interests. You’re the only one left in my world!"

Her sobs pricked at his heart like needles. He thought of her painting under the parasol tree in university, her grievance when Shen Ze misunderstood her, her loneliness when she’d had appendicitis—these memories wrapped around him like vines, loosening his newly hardened resolve. He wanted to hug her, to tell her "I’m not leaving," but images of Song Xiaoran’s warm soup, Le Le’s drawn parasol leaves, and Grandma’s expectant eyes suddenly flashed in his mind—like an uncrossable chasm separating him from Su Wan.

"I know you’re lonely," Lin Yan’s voice was soft but unshakably firm. "But I can’t give you a future. Our relationship is hidden from the light; it will only bring more pain to both of us. You deserve better—someone who can stand by you openly, who can protect you without shame. Not someone like me, dragging you along while betraying another."

"Someone better?" Su Wan shook her head, tears streaming harder. "I don’t want anyone else. I only want you. Lin Yan, I won’t force you to divorce. I can keep hiding this from everyone. We can be like before, meeting occasionally—please? I’m not greedy. Just being able to see you from time to time is enough." She lowered her posture, her voice filled with humble entreaty, reaching out to gently touch his cheek. "Don’t you like me too? Can’t you let me go either? Why are you forcing yourself to end this?"

Lin Yan closed his eyes, afraid to look at her. He feared that one glance at her tears would make him crumble completely. He thought of the first time he’d felt his heart race for her in the library, the secret joy of finding her sketches, the obsession he’d hidden for years—that love was real. But his guilt toward Song Xiaoran was just as real. "Love doesn’t mean hurting others," he opened his eyes, filled with agony. "These past months, I’ve lived in guilt every day. When I see Xiaoran’s smile, I feel like a liar. When I hold Le Le, I feel unworthy of being his father. Wanwan, let me go, and let yourself go too."

He stood up, unfastening the parasol leaf necklace from around his neck and placing it gently on the table. "Here. Take it back. Thank you... for letting me fulfill the dream of my youth. But it’s time to wake up. We both need to return to our own lives."

Su Wan stared at the necklace on the table, then suddenly smiled—a bitter, desolate smile. "Return to our own lives? What kind of life do I have? An empty marriage with Shen Ze? A life tied down by family interests? Or a lonely studio and endless solitude? Lin Yan, you don’t understand at all. When you leave, I’ll have nothing left."

Lin Yan said nothing, just turned around and walked step by step toward the door. Each step felt like treading on the edge of a knife. Behind him, Su Wan’s suppressed sobs sounded like whips lashing at his heart. He wanted so badly to turn back, to hug her—but he couldn’t. He knew that one look back would trap him forever, destroying the warm, trusting home he’d built.

At the door, he paused, not turning around, his voice hoarse: "Take good care of yourself. My team will continue to push forward with the Shen Group cooperation project. It won’t affect your studio."

With that, he pushed open the door and walked out quickly, never looking back. Su Wan’s sobs faded into the distance, eventually drowned out by the wind outside. Lin Yan stood by the road, watching the falling parasol leaves. His heart felt hollow yet relieved, a tangled mess that left him breathless.

He took out his phone and sent a message to Song Xiaoran: "The project’s finished. I’ll be home for dinner tonight. I want to eat the braised pork you make."

As the "sent" notification popped up, he looked in the direction of his home—where the lights were on, the soup was warm, and the people he loved were waiting. Yet a gap remained in his heart—a gap filled with Su Wan, with his youth, with an obsession that was never meant to be. He knew that ending this wasn’t the end. Guilt and regret would follow him always. But he had no other choice. He could only grit his teeth and move forward, striving to make amends to Song Xiaoran and Le Le for all he’d done.