As the snow continued to fall, blanketing the city in an unexpected stillness, the isolation of my home became more pronounced. Each day blended into the next, marked only by the growing piles of snow outside my window. The sudden cessation of my work due to the weather left me with too much time to think, a luxury that felt more like a curse as the days dragged on.
Trapped indoors, the solitude began to gnaw at me. My younger brother, usually a regular visitor, hadn't been able to make it through the snow, and in the whirlwind of my own emotions, I realized I had neglected even the basic interactions with my friends. Loneliness crept in, filling the spaces of my quiet home, and with it, a deep introspection that I usually avoided.
My thoughts often wandered to San and Xiao, pondering what they might have seen in me. I considered myself too stubborn, too set in my ways, and inherently pessimistic about love. Yet, San had changed that perspective slightly, hinting at the possibility that maybe I was capable of being loved, of being truly wanted. Xiao, with his reserved manner and unspoken feelings, offered a different kind of affection, one that was no less real but perhaps more guarded.
San's straightforwardness in expressing his feelings had been both a balm and a blade—it soothed because it was affirming, yet it cut because it came with complications that were painful to navigate. His engagement and the revelation of his true circumstances had shaken the foundation of what I had started to believe about romantic possibilities.
Sitting in my living room, watching the snowfall and feeling the weight of the silence around me, I couldn't help but confront these thoughts head-on. Was I truly unlovable as I often feared, or was it just the fear of getting hurt that held me back from fully embracing someone else's affection?
The quiet of the snow-laden days forced me to consider these questions more deeply than I might have in the bustle of my regular schedule. The forced pause in my routine was unwelcome but perhaps necessary, a chance to reflect on what I really wanted from relationships and how I might overcome my own fears to build something lasting.
Just as I was mired in my introspective thoughts, the sound of the door opening jolted me out of my reverie. I frowned, surprised and a bit alarmed, snapping my head toward the sound. In a mix of confusion and curiosity, I quickly slipped off the bed and hurried towards the door.
As I reached the entryway, the sight that greeted me was both unexpected and instantly soothing. Xiao stood there, shaking the snow out of his hair, his cheeks flushed from the cold. Snowflakes clung to his jacket, melting into droplets that dotted the floor. The sight was so out of context in the quiet solitude of my snow-bound days that for a moment, all I could do was stare.
