𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝕺𝖋 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 (ZhanYi)

One Chance

Zhan's pov.

I stood in front of Wang's door, the weight of the moment pulling at me, making it hard to breathe. My thoughts swirled in confusion, tangling together in a knot of emotions I wasn't sure I wanted to untangle. Wang stood beside me, his bag slung over one shoulder, looking frail and yet strangely peaceful after days spent in the hospital. We hadn't spoken much —our conversations brief, almost mechanical. Now, the silence between us was deafening, filled with the words left unsaid.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Wang said, his voice soft and hesitant. His eyes, normally sharp and alert, flickered with something unreadable. Guilt? Regret? I couldn't tell.

"You're welcome," I replied, offering nothing more than the simple phrase, as if any additional words might break the fragile equilibrium between us. I turned to leave, not sure if staying was a good idea. Part of me wanted to flee, to put as much distance as I could between myself and the storm of memories that being near Wang always seemed to stir.

But then his voice caught me. "Won't you come in for a drink?"

I froze, considering the offer for a moment too long. "You're not supposed to be drinking," I said, cutting my gaze toward him, the edge of concern mixed with the frustration I had been holding back.

He shrugged lightly, the corner of his mouth tugging into a half-smile. "Just a sip, I promise. But I can watch you drink,"  His attempt at light-heartedness was evident, though it did little to mask the tension that lingered between us.

I sighed, rolling my eyes playfully despite myself. "Okay."

He opened the door, and we both walked in. The familiar scent of Wang washed over me, a mix of cedar and old leather, mingling with the soft warmth of freshly brewed tea. It felt as if time had warped, pulling me back to a version of us that no longer existed. I wasn't sure how I felt about when everything had started to fall apart. Yet, I followed him in, as if drawn by some unseen force.

"Your home is beautiful," I said, the words automatic as I took a seat on the island table in his open kitchen. The house, with its clean lines and minimalistic design. Everything was meticulously organized, just like Wang. There was comfort in its predictability.

"Thank you," he said, pouring two glasses—one of water for himself and something stronger for me. He slid the glass across the island toward me, leaning against the counter. "But I'm putting it on the market."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really? Why?"

He gave a small, humorless chuckle. "Too many ghosts," he said, avoiding my eyes.

I nodded, unsure what to say. I understood all too well the weight of ghosts. "So, Brazil, yeah?" he asked, his tone light as he tried to change the subject. "Will you ever come back to this end of the world again?"

I offered him a polite smile, though it felt strained. taking a sip of my drink. "I'm not sure. I don't have any reason to be here."

I offered him a polite smile, though it felt strained. "I'm not sure. I don't have any reason to be here."

Wang's expression fell slightly, disappointment flickering in his eyes. "What if I give you a reason?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of hope, mingled with uncertainty.

I shook my head, the resolve in my voice unwavering. "Wang, I don't care what the reason is. I'm not coming here ever again. There are too many bad memories."

He looked down, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know right?" he said, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He retreated into his shell, the familiar barrier of emotional distance coming up between us.

The internal struggle within me was palpable. Did I still love Wang? Yes. Did I want to be with him? Yes. But the baggage that came with his love was overwhelming. Now that his father was no longer around, perhaps there was a chance for a fresh start. Yet, the scars of our past were still fresh, and I wasn't sure I was ready to confront them again.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look directly at Wang. "Wang," I said, trying to steady my voice. "If I give you one chance—just one chance to tell me about yourself, would you?"

Wang's eyes widened in surprise, as though he hadn't anticipated this. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was about to respond, but no words came out immediately. Then, a small, genuine smile formed on his lips. "I'd tell you anything and everything," he said softly, his voice earnest.

I nodded, feeling a mix of hope and apprehension. "Good," I replied, my voice firm. "Because I can't go through what I went through before. I won't."

"You won't have to," Wang said, reaching for my hand. His touch was warm and familiar, and the tears in his eyes glistened as he spoke. "You won't regret giving me a chance. I promise."

His words were laced with raw emotion, and I saw the tears threatening to spill over. The vulnerability in his eyes was both heartbreaking and hopeful. It was the most honest I had seen him in a long time.

"I don't know if I can forget everything," I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. "There's so much pain, so much that happened between us."

"You don't have to forget," Wang said quickly, his voice steady despite the tears. "We can't forget. But we can learn from it. We can be better. I can be better."

His declaration hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of what might be. I felt the burden of the past pressing down on me, but there was something different in Wang's demeanor now—a sincerity that was hard to ignore.

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to gather my thoughts. When I opened them again, Wang was still watching me, his expression one of hopeful anticipation.

"If we do this," I said quietly, my voice filled with uncertainty, "we have to be honest. Completely honest. No more hiding. No more running away when things get hard."

Wang nodded, his grip on my hand tightening. "I promise. I won't run. Not this time."

"And you need to open up," I added, feeling a surge of determination. "No more walls, no more secrets."

"I will," Wang said, his voice full of conviction. "I'll be open. I'll be honest."

As we sat there, the weight of our pasts seemed to lift just slightly, replaced by a cautious optimism about what might come next. Wang's promise was a fragile hope, but it was a hope nonetheless.

"Let's take it one step at a time," I said, finally managing a small, genuine smile. "We can't fix everything all at once. But we can start with this."

Wang returned the smile, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. "One step at a time," he agreed, squeezing my hand gently.

The room felt a little warmer, the tension easing ever so slightly as we began to face our past together. It wasn't going to be easy, and the road ahead was uncertain. But for now, we had this moment—a chance to try again, to rebuild what had been broken.

We were still far from healing completely, but for the first time in a long while, there was a glimmer of hope. A chance to move forward, to face the future with a little less fear and a little more understanding. It wasn't the end of our story, but perhaps it was the beginning of a new chapter—one that might just lead us to a better place, together.