unknownpetals
Mei and Jian grow up next door to each other, in a neighborhood where gates are left open and boundaries are easily crossed. As children, their world is small and bright made of shared afternoons, imagined kingdoms, and the comfort of knowing someone is always there. Jian watches over Mei without thinking about it, stepping in before she asks, standing close without touching. Even then, he learns how to hold back.
As they grow older, the shape of their closeness begins to change. Words become harder. Feelings deepen, heavier and more fragile. Jian carries his affection quietly, believing that loving Mei means protecting her - from uncertainty, from disruption, from himself. He chooses restraint again and again, offering care in subtle gestures rather than confessions he fears might fracture what they already have.
Mei grows up sensing what is held back. She feels it in the space Jian leaves between them; in the things he never claims. As she changes, becoming more certain of herself, the closeness they share begins to ache - familiar, steady, and increasingly impossible to ignore.
When adulthood arrives, Jian is anchored in the workshop, grease-stained hands steady with responsibility, while Mei stands on the threshold of elsewhere. Between them lies a history of shared years and unspoken longing, held together by restraint and the fear of altering what has always been enough.
This is a story about growing up together and apart, about love that waits, and about whether two people who have spent years circling each other can finally step forward before time asks them to let go.