My Childhood Sweetheart's Betrayal and the Child He Had with Another

Though we were thousands of miles apart, our connection never faded. I’d tell him which cafeteria had the best food and which professor’s lectures were the most interesting.

He would listen quietly from his side, sometimes offering a simple word of agreement.

I’d ask how he was doing, and he’d always say everything was fine. He promised that once he made enough money, he’d come to visit me at Harvard, urging me to focus on my studies.

“And by the way,” he added, “your mom asked me to remind you not to fall in love just yet. You’re too young, and you could easily get hurt.”

“Don’t worry about my mom,” I laughed. “I’m too busy studying to even think about a relationship.” I pretended to complain, and his deep, warm laughter filled my headphones. It was low and almost sounded like it came from deep within him, sending a warmth to my face.

That year, we shared the little details of our lives over the phone, staying up late into the night.

During spring break, he came to pick me up, wearing a khaki trench coat. He’d gotten a bit tanner, and it looked like he’d grown taller. We had mostly talked on the phone, so seeing him in person felt strange at first.

But he seemed perfectly comfortable, smiling as he took my suitcase and started a conversation. The familiar warmth between us quickly returned.

During my month at home, he seemed busy. Other than the day he picked me up and a few days around New Year’s, I didn’t see much of him.

My mom mentioned that Daniel had been struggling lately. Because he didn’t have a degree, no company would hire him. Eventually, he found a job selling liquor, traveling all day to promote it and setting up a street stall at night.

In just a month, he lost a lot of weight, but he pushed through. With the help of a few good people, things started to improve.

“His family’s paid off their debts, and his business is starting to take off. He’s got potential,” my mom said, her admiration for Daniel evident in her voice.

After the break, Daniel saw me off again. He stayed with me in the waiting area, but this time, his eyes weren’t filled with sadness. Instead, they sparkled with a hopeful anticipation for the future.

“Boarding for train 310 from New York to Massachusetts will begin shortly,” the sweet voice of the announcer echoed through the station.

I stood up, dragging my suitcase toward the line.

“Jia Jia, I’ll come to Massachusetts to see you,” Daniel called out.

I turned to see him standing a short distance away, smiling at me with his hands in his pockets. His smile was as bright as the sunshine and as warm as a spring breeze.

Three months later, I went to meet him at the high-speed rail station. He was holding roses, standing in the crowd like the leading man in a movie. Everyone else blurred into the background, but he stood out in sharp focus.

Excited, I ran toward him. Just as I was about to crash into him, I realized I was rushing too much and quickly slowed my pace. But before I could stop, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. My face pressed against his collarbone, and my heart started racing, thumping wildly in my chest.

His embrace smelled faintly of wood and roses, like a rose garden on a misty morning.

After a moment, he let me go, pressed the roses into my arms, and took my hand.

Confused, I held the flowers and let him lead me away.

There were so many things I wanted to say, but I didn’t know where to start. I awkwardly trailed behind him, staring at the back of his head. His shoulders had broadened significantly, leaving behind the lean frame of his youth. Now, he looked reliable.

We finally stopped in front of an upscale restaurant.

During my year at Massachusetts, I had stayed at school, rarely leaving campus. After being admitted to Harvard, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep up with the naturally gifted students. I felt like I was drowning, struggling to stay afloat but constantly sinking.

It turns out, some efforts really don’t pay off. But I wasn’t ready to accept that. Couldn’t someone who worked hard at least have a little bit of talent?