My angel will judge me.

part 17

The wei Mansion looked like something out of a dream.

Golden lanterns glowed like fireflies along the garden hedges. A soft tune played from hidden speakers, and colorful balloons floated above the tables. Children laughed, parents chatted, and everything smelled like cake and summer.

At the center of it all—Yuan, wearing a hand-made birthday crown with glitter smeared across his forehead, raced around barefoot with a plastic sword in one hand and a lollipop in the other.

"Catch me if you can!" he yelled gleefully.

Wei Wuxian, in a navy sweater now smeared with frosting and juice, was chasing him around the tables, breathless but grinning.

"You’re going to knock over the dessert table, Yuan!"

Behind them, in the shaded patio, Yanli sat wrapped in a soft shawl, a serene smile on her lips. Her husband Jin Zixuan stood by, always attentive, always near. But his eyes weren’t on the crowd. They were on Sean.

Their son.

Sean was standing still, as he often did.
Not playing. Just... watching.

His hands held a notebook, his eyes flicking between the children and the clouds. Then the doorbell rang.

Across the street, behind the dark window of a black car, Lan Zhan sat frozen.

His eyes—visible over the edge of a face mask—were locked on the front garden. The soft curve of Wei Ying’s smile. The bounce in Yuan’s step. The gentle glow of Yanli’s recovering figure.

Lan Zhan’s heart twisted painfully.

This wasn’t a scene from a dream anymore.
It was real.
And he was watching from the outside.

Beside him, Meng Yao shifted, fidgeting with his sleeves.

"We really shouldn’t have come."

Lan Zhan didn’t answer.

Back in the yard, just as they wheeled out the birthday cake—a ridiculous, lopsided thing with dinosaurs and stars—Yuan dashed forward to be first in line.

His foot caught on a streamer.

The world seemed to pause.

And then—

He fell.

Right onto the grass, arms out, frosting from the cake smearing across his sleeve.

There was a collective gasp.

Wei Wuxian rushed forward, eyes wide. "Yuan?!"

But Yuan popped back up with a triumphant laugh.

"Sean was right! I fell! I really did!"

The crowd laughed. Wei Wuxian sighed and scooped him up, brushing off grass and sprinkles.

Sean stood silently, watching from a distance.

Zixuan watched him too—this strange, all-seeing child who never cried or laughed too loudly.

In the car, Lan Zhan’s chest ached.

He watched Wei Ying hold Yuan close, laughing, kissing his temple.

Meng Yao quietly reached to turn the key in the ignition.

But Lan Zhan whispered—his voice trembling beneath the weight of five long years:

"Just one more minute."

Meng Yao paused.
Lan Zhan leaned his forehead against the window and closed his eyes.

It wasn’t the fall that hurt most.
It was realizing—
He had missed it all.
The music drifted softly.