Fading Ambiguity

While cleaning the bedroom of the boy I liked, I accidentally knocked over the trash can. A sticky, half-wrapped bundle rolled out.

It was clear what it was—something used recently, perhaps last night, or maybe this morning.

I couldn’t describe how I felt at that moment.

---

1

My mother called while I was tidying Lu He’s room.

Ever since last month, when Lu He gave me a spare key to his place, I’d been coming over almost every day. Though he hadn’t officially confessed, we seemed to have an unspoken understanding about our relationship.

After the usual small talk, my mother suddenly mentioned, “Zhao Yue is back in the country.”

My hand, wiping the nightstand, froze. Instinctively, I turned off the speakerphone.

Through the slightly ajar door, I saw Lu He lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with his usual detached calm.

He probably hadn’t heard.

Relieved, I lowered my voice and asked, “Wasn’t she getting married next month? Why’s she back so suddenly?”

“You didn’t know?” My mother hesitated before sighing. “Her fiancé cheated on her. She caught him red-handed, so the wedding’s off.”

Two simple sentences, and my world tilted.

Zhao Yue was my cousin, only a few months older than me. We’d grown up together, so hearing about her heartbreak stung. But there was another reason my stomach churned—

Zhao Yue was the only girlfriend Lu He had ever publicly acknowledged in college.

Back then, I was just a close classmate, hovering at the edges of his life. After they started dating, I distanced myself. Yet at every family gathering, Zhao Yue would deliberately bring up Lu He, gushing about how lucky she was to have met him—thanks to me.

It took me years to realize she’d always known I liked him. She just wanted me to see my place.

Their breakup happened before graduation. Zhao Yue chose to study abroad, leaving Lu He behind. He drowned in alcohol for months, and I was the one who stayed, picking up the pieces.

Maybe it was those months of companionship that made Lu He treat me differently—just a little.

---

2

As my mother vented about Zhao Yue’s ex, her voice grew louder. Worried Lu He might overhear, I glanced through the door again.

He was petting his cat now, fingers trailing lazily along its fur. His profile was sharp, his expression unreadable.

The eight-month-old ragdoll, Tuanzi, was a gift from me—given half a year ago when I mustered the courage to confess after hearing Zhao Yue was engaged.

That day, Lu He accepted the kitten, naming it “Tuanzi” (“Little Ball”) because, as he said with rare softness, “It’s small and soft, just like you.”

For a moment, I thought he felt the same.

Then he turned away, his voice low. “Jiajia, let’s wait a little longer, okay?”

My heart sank.

Perhaps then, I finally understood—even if Zhao Yue had a fiancé, Lu He would keep waiting, just as I kept waiting for him.

“Jiajia?” My mother’s voice snapped me back.

I hummed in response, but my eyes stayed fixed on Lu He. He was on a call now, a faint smile on his lips. A sharp unease twisted inside me.

His mouth moved, shaping a name.

“Yueyue.”

My mother kept talking, but my mind blanked. A sudden throb pulsed at my temples, my palms turning clammy.

Then Tuanzi dashed in, toppling the trash can by the bed.

As I reached to pick it up, a Durex box tumbled out—along with a sticky, half-wrapped mess.

My body moved on autopilot. I grabbed tissues, shoved everything back in, and numbly wiped my hands.

My mother’s voice crackled through the phone:

“Oh, I meant to ask earlier. Your aunt said Yueyue flew to your city last night to clear her head. Didn’t she contact you?”

---

3

Everything clicked.

Last night, I’d called Lu He over a dozen times. No answer.

And when I arrived today, he hadn’t offered a single word of explanation.

Zhao Yue hadn’t reached out to me—because she’d gone straight to him.

I don’t remember hanging up or leaving the bedroom.

When Lu He met my gaze, the words died in my throat.

“I have something to do later,” he said coolly. “Zhang Jia, you should go.”

The unconscious frost in his voice crushed my lungs.

I dug my nails into my palms.

Six months ago, after my failed confession, I’d buried myself under blankets, repeating: Let go.

I’d thrown myself into work, pretending nothing was wrong. Until one day, I got lost hiking.

When Lu He found me, he hugged me so tightly I felt his heartbeat. His breath was hot against my neck as he whispered, “Jiajia… Jiajia…”

For the first time, I felt his fear—for me.

After that, we grew closer. He gave me his key.

I thought, This time, it’s real.

But then Zhao Yue’s engagement ended.

And Lu He got what he wanted.

Now, the warmth between us was gone, as if those two months had been my delusion.

---

4

The click of the door snapped me back to reality.

Zhao Yue stood there, her gaze flickering between us—awkward, almost pitying.

Her voice was careful. “I came to get something I left in the guest room last night.” She stressed the words.

Lu He nodded. “I’ll get it for you.”

I watched their terrible acting, lips twisting into a stiff smile.

Then I noticed the key in Zhao Yue’s hand.

My vision blurred.

So I wasn’t the only one with a spare.

When Lu He returned with a bag, he suddenly gripped Zhao Yue’s wrist.

“The doctor said it was mild. Why isn’t the allergy better?” His voice was tender—a tone he’d never used with me, even at our closest.

Zhao Yue smiled. “It’s healing. The swelling’s gone.”

Lu He exhaled. “Good.”

They spoke like I wasn’t there.

This was how he’d always been with her—every word, every glance, burning with devotion.

Now that they’d reunited, Lu He was finally free.

And I? I was just a placeholder.

When Tuanzi pawed at my feet, I fed him, packed my things, and left.

At the door, I placed the spare key on the table.

Some words, I couldn’t bear to hear.

Then Lu He spoke.

“Zhao Yue’s allergic to cats.”

I turned, confused.

His voice was flat. “Take Tuanzi with you.”

---

5

The silence was suffocating.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came.

“Jiajia, don’t misunderstand.” Zhao Yue suddenly took my hand. “Lu He just suggested I stay here for a few days since I’m new here. Once I leave, he’ll take Tuanzi back.”

She glanced at him, smiling. “After all these years, he’s still so thoughtful.”

A laugh bubbled up my throat.

If anyone knew how to twist the knife in my heart, it was Zhao Yue.

I pulled my hand away.

“Lu He was never thoughtful,” I said softly. “He just cared about you.”

---

6

It was raining on my way home, but luckily, my place wasn’t far—just a ten-minute walk.

After showering and settling Tuanzi in, I checked my phone. Zhao Yue had sent a message:

“Jiajia, I didn’t come back to steal Lu He from you.”

I stared at the screen before replying: “But you slept with him last night, didn’t you?”

No response.

A memory surfaced—a dinner with my best friend a few days ago. Lu He had held my hand under the table, his thumb brushing my knuckles. My friend had noticed, grinning.

Then she’d asked the waiter to remove a dish because it had green onions. “My friend doesn’t eat them,” she’d said.

Lu He had looked surprised.

It struck me then—after all this time, he’d never noticed.

Zhao Yue hated onions.

So did I.

But he only remembered her preferences.

---

7

I opened my laptop to search for a new apartment.

Six months ago, when I’d moved to this city for work, Lu He had helped me find this place—a vacant property owned by his uncle, Shen Xianzhi.

I’d met Shen Xianzhi once, at Lu He’s birthday party. The night I’d confessed and been gently rejected, his was the only kind smile in the room.

Now, as I scrolled through listings, my vision blurred. My head throbbed—probably from the rain.

I slumped onto the sofa, exhaustion dragging me under.

Just before darkness took me, I felt a cool hand on my forehead.

---

8

When I woke, sunlight streamed through the curtains. My fever had broken.

I grabbed my phone—dozens of missed calls and messages. From colleagues, friends, even an apology from Zhao Yue.

Nothing from Lu He.

Our last chat was two days ago:

Me: There’s a new romance film. Want to go tonight?
Lu He: Sure, I’ll book the tickets.

But that night, Zhao Yue had arrived. He’d stood me up without a word.

I exhaled sharply and headed to the bathroom.

Passing the kitchen, I froze.

A tall man stood by the stove, frowning at a pot of bubbling seafood粥 (porridge). A cooking tutorial played on his phone.

He turned—Shen Xianzhi.

“You’re awake.” He smiled, unbothered by being caught. “This is my first attempt. Be honest if it’s terrible.”

I blinked. “You… came back?”

He nodded. “I’ll be staying here for a while. Hope that’s okay.”

When I didn’t answer, he added gently, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can leave.”

I shook my head. “It’s your house. I’m the one who should go.”

His gaze held mine. “Stay.”

---

9

Over the next few days, Shen Xianzhi became an unexpected constant.

He waited up when I viewed apartments, drove me home when it was late, and once—when I cut my finger chopping fruit—bandaged my hand with surprising tenderness.

“Be careful,” he murmured, his touch lingering.

I pulled away, flustered.

Then, one night, as he helped me dry my hair, his fingers grazed my neck.

“Comfortable?” His voice was low.

I shivered. The hairdryer clattered to the floor.

The door clicked open.

Lu He stood there, his face ice-cold.

---

10

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

Then Shen Xianzhi helped me up, his grip firm. “You’re here late,” he said to Lu He.

Lu He ignored him, his eyes locked on me. “Why haven’t you replied to my messages?”

I frowned. “What messages?”

“About Tuanzi’s things.” He pulled a cat bell from his pocket—the one he’d won at an amusement park. The one I’d left behind on purpose.

Tuanzi trotted over, rubbing against Lu He’s legs.

“He misses me,” Lu He said softly.

I met his gaze. “Did Zhao Yue know you came here tonight?”

His jaw tightened. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Everything.” My voice was steady. “You let her stay with you. You chose her. Again.”

Lu He stepped closer. “Jiajia, she was hurt. I was just—”

“Taking her to bed?” I interrupted.

His face paled.

---

11

Later, in my room, Shen Xianzhi knocked.

He held a bottle of wine. “Talk?”

I let him in.

We sat in silence until he finally said, “Jiajia, date me.”

My breath hitched.

He’d remembered my fear of darkness, my dislike of onions. He’d stayed.

But doubt lingered. “Why me?”

Shen Xianzhi smiled. “Because I’ve liked you since we were kids.”

---

12

The truth unfolded like a old photograph:

Our mothers had been friends. As children, we’d played together—until his family moved away.

A year ago, our mothers reconnected. Mine had shown him my photos, nudging fate.

“And then,” Shen Xianzhi said, tracing my palm, “I saw you at Lu He’s party. You looked so brave, so hurt. I wanted to protect you.”

I trembled.

Outside, rain pattered against the window.

Lu He’s voice cut through the quiet. “Jiajia.”

He stood in the doorway, eyes burning. “You’re choosing him?”

Shen Xianzhi stood, shielding me. “She’s not yours to claim.”

Lu He lunged.

A punch landed. Blood dripped from his lip.

“You knew,” Lu He spat. “You wanted her all along.”

Shen Xianzhi didn’t deny it.

And I?

I finally spoke the truth.

“Lu He, you never loved me. You just didn’t want to lose my love.”

---

13

Weeks passed. Zhao Yue moved out. Lu He lingered at the edges of my life, a ghost of what might’ve been.

Then Shen Xianzhi took me bungee jumping.

As we plummeted, wind screaming past, I screamed too—not from fear, but release.

That night, I texted the landlord: I’m not moving.

Shen Xianzhi knocked on my door, hair damp from a shower.

“Changed your mind?” he asked, hopeful.

I nodded.

He cupped my face. “And us?”

I kissed him.

Somewhere, the past unraveled.

And for the first time, I didn’t look back.