Most Afraid of Not Being in Love at The Right Time

There was the invitation letter from the orchestra and the documents I needed to apply for a visa to work abroad.

I stood up and went out with the information. I thought it was time to let go and fulfill my wish.

The visa process was simpler than I thought and it was all done in less than half a day.

On the way back, a friend request popped up on my phone. The avatar looked familiar, a kitten with flowers on its head and the verification message came with a note, “Tiffany.”

The two photos in Richie's WhatsApp flashed through my mind. I tapped her fingertips and accepted the friend request.

But there was no rush to send the message, as if it was just added casually, or like a silent show-off of the winner, which made me feel embarrassed.

I lowered my eyes and accidentally discovered that there was an update in my social media.

I realized something and clicked on it. Sure enough, I saw that Tiffany had posted a photo in her recent updates.

A caption read, [Today is a fairy tale world.] 

In the accompanying picture, the protagonist was smiling brightly at the camera, with countless hot air balloons floating in the air behind her and a man with his back to the camera.

Even through the screen, I could still recognize that it was Richie, the one who should have been in the hospital.

I stared at the familiar figure for a long time, tears streaming down my face.

I clenched my phone so tightly that my fingertips turned white.

It turned out that Richie had not forgotten that day's appointment, he just had someone else to fulfill his promise to.

My heart seemed to be unable to bear the burden and emitted a sharp beeping sound, which reached my mind and made me not know what to do. 

In the end, she opened her profile in a self-mutilating manner and scrolled through it frantically.

Finally, I saw the day Tiffany returned to the US a month ago.

She was wearing a moon-white dress, holding a bright rose and standing next to Richie. The photo had the caption that read, [Someone insisted on picking me up, so I had to be merciful and give him this honor.]

The memory was suddenly pulled back to that day, when I had a fever because I went to deliver documents to him in the rain. 

I called Richie in distress, wanting him to come back and accompany me, but he scolded me, “Don't be pretentious.”

It turned out that it was not that I was being pretentious, but that I did not deserve it.

Not wanting to cry out loud, I took a deep breath, trying to suppress the sob in his throat and sent a number to Richie: [4.]

I still did not receive a reply on my phone until I got home. I guessed Richie wass busy accompanying that girl on the hot air balloon ride.

I sat tiredly on the sofa, looking at the cute pillow beside me, the doll ornaments on the coffee table and the childlike and warm decorations in every corner.

At first, I disliked that house because it was too rigid and felt like a hotel that one could leave at any time.

So, I pestered Richie for a few days before he finally gave in. But then, the home I had decorated with great anticipation seemed to be gone.

I found a cardboard box and slowly put the things he had bought into it. He would figure out how to deal with them when the time came.

After cleaning up, I looked at those things with regret.

Each and every one of them was carefully selected by me, but unfortunately Richie did not like them, nor did the owners who bought them.

Suddenly the entrance door opened. It was Richie coming back.

He looked at what was in my hand, frowned slightly and then said in a light tone, “If you want to clean up, remember not to touch my things.”

As I heard that, I Found it ridiculous. His first reaction was to ask me not to touch his things.