Chapter 73
Ping turned her back to Ling, arms still crossed, her chest rising and falling faster than before. Ling took a moment to steady himself. His tone had risen more than he wanted it to—but seeing her like that, laughing so freely, had stabbed deeper than he expected.
"You're angry because I smiled?" Ping said, still not looking at him. "Because I dared to enjoy a conversation for once?"
"You know it's more than that," Ling replied.
"Then what is it?" she snapped, spinning to face him. "You left me in silence for months. After everything that happened, after our child—" Her voice cracked, and she caught herself, swallowing it down. "And now you want to suddenly play the husband again because you feel threatened?"
Ling's expression faltered.
"It's not about him," he said. "It's about us."
Ping laughed bitterly. "Us? There hasn't been an 'us' in a long time, Ling. You made your choices. And now, I'm trying to breathe. Just breathe. Feng was part of my past—he reminds me of a time before everything became heavy."
Ling stepped closer. "You think this hasn't been heavy for me too? I lost our child too, Ping. You think I didn't cry alone when you wouldn't even look at me?"
Silence.
Her lip trembled.
"But you didn't come to me," she said, quieter now. "You let me carry the grief alone."
Ling's hands dropped to his sides, helpless. "I didn't know how. I was broken too."
They stood in the corridor, a storm between them. Ping looked away, wiping at the corner of her eye quickly.
"I don't hate you, Ling," she whispered. "But I don't know how to be around you right now. It's easier with someone who doesn't carry pieces of the pain."
Ling swallowed hard, nodded once, and stepped back.
"Then I'll wait," he said quietly. "As long as it takes. I'll wait."
And with that, he turned and walked away—his footsteps echoing down the long hallway, each one heavier than the last.
Ping stood there, holding her breath, fighting everything inside her not to run after him.