Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I called Ethan. It took three tries before he answered.

I could hear people talking in the background—he must have gone out into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone cold as usual.

"Do you know what date it is today?"

"The 16th," he said.

"Do you know what day it is?"

He made a soft "hmm" sound.

His voice was a little hoarse, and I couldn't hear it clearly through the phone—as if it was scratching at my heart.

"Where are you?"

"In the lab," he said.

...

"So you're not going to be with me today?"

There was silence on the other end—no answer.

"Ethan Carter..."

I called his name, hoping to hear something more.

"I'm busy today. There's a physics experiment competition, and I have to compete soon."

"What about tonight?"

"...I have to go over the experiment report with my professor."

It was three in the afternoon. I stood in a cake shop, watching the cars and people pass by outside. Rows of cakes filled the display case.

"What about my birthday?"

I stared at the cakes, my voice trembling with tears. They pooled in my eyes, but I forced them back.

Today was the 16th—my birthday.

Ethan knew that, but he didn't have time for me.

Someone seemed to be talking to him on his end. He answered a few times.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?"

In an instant, all my emotions flooded over me. Grief weighed on my heart like lead filled with water.

"Ethan Carter, how can you be such a bad boyfriend?" I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears rolled down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

I'd always thought I could wait for Ethan forever.

Like I'd done before—even when he left me alone, I could entertain myself.

I wanted to tell him so badly: Can't you put aside what you're doing for a minute and spend my birthday with me?

It only comes once a year. He'd never given me a surprise for my birthday. I was the one who ordered the cake, decorated for the party. All he had to do was show up, blow out the candles with me, cut the cake, and say "Happy Birthday"—and that was it.

This year, he wouldn't even do that.

"You've never cared about how I feel," I said.

You'll never reach out a hand to help me up. You'll just stand there and watch me pick myself up, stumble, and run to you.

If I leave you one day, will you ever look back for me?

Will you... even feel a little lost?

"Ethan Carter, you don't like me at all."

I hung up before he could say anything.

It was October—not quite autumn yet. The dusk, still carrying the warmth of midsummer, embraced the mint-scented dawn. The streets were filled with a breath of youthful excitement.

I carried the cake, walking aimlessly. The sky looked like it had stolen a sip of the fruit wine from the roof—blushing shyly as it tangled with the clouds, blending into a beautiful painting. Fiery red clouds dragged their long tails across the sky, and faint traces of blue could still be seen. The mixing colors exuded romance.

An orange cat lay on the stairs of a building, its outline glowing in the sunlight. The wind chimes under the eaves of an antique shop rang crisply, echoing in the evening.

How many evenings had I walked alone like this?

The wind carried a slight coolness, leading me down the street. Passersby were enjoying the pleasant evening breeze too. Elderly ladies, dressed elegantly, walked through the lanes—their cheongsams hiding young souls. Elderly gentlemen, fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans and wearing undershirts, played chess under the lush phoenix trees. A group of teenagers rode their bikes past me, leaving behind the tinkling of bells and the carefree spirit of youth.

After walking through a long stone alley, I was drawn to the smell of a street food stall. I walked in without thinking. The owner greeted me warmly. I looked at the cake in my hand, then ordered a bowl of spicy and sour noodles and a bottle of sparkling water. I watched the bubbles fizz in the bottle, the cool scent filling the air.

Soon, the owner brought over the noodles. I took a bite—the aroma of chili and vinegar filled my mouth. My heart was already heavy, and the spiciness made me cough and cry. I never expected that this random stop would lead me to such delicious noodles.

I must have been crying too hard, because the other customers stared at me, and the owner came over to check on me.

At first, I wouldn't say what was wrong.

Then the owner saw the beautifully wrapped cake and seemed to understand.

"Fought with your boyfriend?"

This was the second time I'd made a fool of myself in front of others—all because of Ethan Carter.

In the end, I celebrated my birthday in that little shop, with the owner and the other customers by my side.

A small flame was lit, touching the candles on the cake.

The owner pushed the cake toward me: "Make a wish."

That phrase sounded so familiar.

This time last year, Ethan had said the same thing to me.

"Make a wish, Elena Bennett."

"I want to be with you next year too."

I stared at the orange flame, thinking of Ethan's eyes—hidden behind a veil of indifference—and told him my wish.

Blowing out the candles brought darkness. Around me, they wished me happiness. In my memory, it was as if Ethan had let out a soft laugh in the fading light.

The outline of the sun was gradually swallowed by the distant green mountains. I shared the cake with all the customers, then left with the unfinished sparkling water.

On my way back, I opened the chat box. Ethan hadn't sent me any messages.

No calls, no texts.

What am I to him, anyway?