His late and deep affection, I don't want it anymore

I stood frozen for a long moment.

Eventually, I snapped the diary shut and walked toward the snack street.

Twelve years had passed. The humble wonton stall had evolved into a proper shop, and the proprietress's hair was now streaked with gray.

Class was in session at the university, so the shop sat empty. After setting the steaming bowl before me, the proprietress didn't leave. She pulled out a chair and settled across from me instead.

"You two are quite a pair," she mused. "Amy came by last month, all alone."

My head snapped up. I stared at her, starving for any scrap of information about Amy before she passed.

The proprietress smiled warmly and handed me a pair of chopsticks. "She said you were buried in work. Missed the taste of my cooking, so she came by herself." She tilted her head. "What about today? Why isn't she with you?"

She leaned in slightly. "Don't mind an old woman prying, but did you two have a spat? She'd lost a lot of weight last time I saw her."

"You two were inseparable back in school. She's such a good girl—you mustn't let her down. I still remember back then..."

Her voice turned soft, nostalgic.

My thoughts drifted with it.

Back then, we were broke. The budget for our weekend dates came from the living expenses I saved by skipping meals. Whenever we ate here, Amy would transfer more than half her wontons into my bowl.

"I already ate at the cafeteria," she would lie. "I'm too full."

During our poorest days, we could only afford a single bowl to share. Amy would insist she wasn't hungry, watching me eat with that gentle smile on her face.

I remembered my senior year internship. Right here, at this tiny stall, I looked at the girl laughing and chatting across from me, and I made a solemn vow.

*Amy, I promise you a good life.*

*For the rest of my life, having Amy is enough for Dominic Delgado.*

The vow still echoed in my ears.

But that girl would never forgive me again.

When I snapped back to reality, the proprietress had moved on to greet other customers. Perhaps the wontons were too hot; the rising steam blurred my vision.

I gripped the chopsticks and mechanically shoveled the scalding wontons into my mouth, one after another, until my throat refused to swallow anymore.

It hurt.

God, Amy, it hurt so much.

*I'm begging you—let me see you one more time.*

*Just one last look. Please.*

I left the shop and wandered aimlessly through the snack street, lost. Finally, I stood at the university gate for a long time before opening the diary again.

*"I've decided to start my own business. Relying on a meager salary, when will I ever be able to give Amy a good life?"*

*"Amy told me today she found a place with rent that's only $300 a month—cheap and decent."*

*"I went to see it. It's clearly in the tenements. The environment is terrible. How can Amy live in a dump like that? I'm trash. Why am I so useless?"*

A memory sparked. I hailed a taxi and directed the driver to the urban village in the west of the city.

When I arrived, I stood in a daze.

So many years had passed, yet this place hadn't been demolished. Still broken. Still shabby. The ground slick with sewage and refuse, a chaotic web of electrical wires choking the sky above the narrow alleys.

I stopped in front of a gray, dingy building. For a moment, my courage failed me.

The top floor. The sixth floor.

That was where Amy and I lived after graduation.

We called that place home for three full years.