Han spotted Li near the old temple steps, her arms crossed, frustration evident in the way she kicked at stray pebbles along the worn path. She had always been fierce—never one to mask her emotions, never one to sit idly when she felt wronged.
She approached cautiously. "Li," she called, her voice softer than usual.
She turned sharply, eyes burning with unspoken resentment. "Han," she muttered, then sighed, shaking her head. "You heard, didn't you?"
Han nodded, settling beside her, watching the wind toy with the fallen leaves around their feet. "Chun's engagement," she said. "To someone else."
Li scoffed, her fingers tightening into fists. "Some rich girl," she spat. "Because her family's wealth makes her more desirable than—than actual love."
Han sighed. She understood her pain. Chun had been Li's closest friend. "He never promised me anything," Han said gently, though she knew the words would sting.
Li clenched her jaw, glaring at her. "That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
Silence stretched between them, filled with things neither of them could say—things that had no solution. Love was never simple, never fair.
"I just—" Li exhaled, shaking her head. "I just thought maybe, just maybe, things would be different for once."
Han placed a hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort. "Some things can't be changed," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean you have to drown in them."
Li didn't answer, only stared at the distant horizon, her anger softening into quiet sorrow. And Han, for once, let the silence remain unbroken. Because sometimes, there were no words that could ease the weight of a broken heart.
Li's emotions were tangled—a quiet storm of relief and guilt battling inside her. She should have been devastated that Chun was marrying another, that the childhood dreams she had once held for them were now being sealed away by duty. But instead… there was something undeniably freeing about it.
With Chun's fate decided, there was no longer an impossible choice for her to make. No lingering hope. No quiet heartbreak. And now, she could turn her full attention to Han—the one person she had always truly wanted.
But wanting wasn't the same as deserving.
That guilt gnawed at her, sharp and relentless. She had watched Chun struggle under the weight of expectations, had witnessed Han push back against the same fate, and yet here she was, thinking only of what she could gain from their loss.
She clenched her fists, staring at the flickering lantern light outside the temple. Would Han ever look at her the way she wished? Would she ever love her the way Chun had loved? Or was Li chasing a dream just as fragile as the one she had once held for Chun?
She didn't know.
But now that Chun was gone, she would fight for the chance. Even if her heart still whispered doubts in the quiet hours of the night. "What are you going to do?" she asks
"Live the best I can" Li nodded slowly, letting Han's words settle between them. Live the best I can. Simple. Honest. Not a promise, not a plan—just survival.
"Do you think that's enough?" Li asked, her voice soft, unsure.
Han turned to her, eyes steady. "Maybe not forever. But for now? Yeah."
The wind stirred the fallen leaves, brushing their ankles. Lantern light flickered across Han's face, making her expression hard to read. Li looked at her hands—fists still clenched in her lap. Slowly, she unfurled them.
"I used to think love had to hurt," she said. "That if it didn't ache, it wasn't real."
Han gave a faint, tired laugh. "We grew up with stories that made pain feel noble."
"Yeah," Li said. "But I'm tired of being noble."
They sat in silence, the temple behind them glowing dimly, the sky above hinting at stars behind restless clouds.
Li drew in a breath. "Did we miss something?" she asked. "You and me?"
Han didn't look surprised. She didn't flinch. Just watched the horizon and spoke slowly. "Maybe. Or maybe we just weren't ready."
Li blinked back the sting behind her eyes. "I was afraid. Of what it meant. Of what I wanted."
Han turned to face her fully now, voice barely above a whisper. "And now?"
Li met her gaze. "Now I want to stop pretending."
For a moment, nothing moved. Then Han reached out—not quite a touch, just the space between them narrowing.
"Then don't pretend," she said.
The wind had cooled, brushing past them like a quiet warning. In the distance, the faint sounds of the village stirred—laughter, shutters closing, the low clatter of carts heading home. Night was settling in.
Li stood first, brushing dust from her skirt. "We should go," she murmured. "Someone will notice we're gone."
Han hesitated, then rose to join her. Their shoulders almost touched as they stepped off the temple steps. Neither reached for the other's hand. Not yet.
As they walked, the silence between them was no longer strained. It was something softer—like the hush after a storm.
But as they neared the edge of the path, Li saw a familiar figure waiting beneath a lantern. Madam Chi.
She stood with arms folded, her expression unreadable, eyes sharp as ever.
Han stiffened beside her. "She saw us."
Li felt the old fear crawl up her spine. She'd seen that look before—on nights when whispers turned to warnings, when love was something to hide, not hold.
But this time, she didn't look away.
"Li," Madam Chi said coolly. "A bit late for a temple visit, don't you think?"
Li's heart pounded, but her voice stayed steady. "I needed to clear my thoughts."
Madam Chi's gaze shifted to Han, narrowing. "And Han was your… spiritual guide?"
Han didn't flinch. "I was her friend. Still am."
The words hung there, heavier than they should have been.
Li stepped forward. Just a small step, but it felt like crossing a line she'd never dared before. "We weren't doing anything wrong," she said. "And even if we were, it's no longer your concern."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then Madam Chi let out a low sigh. "Careful, girl," she said. "The world isn't kind to people who chase things they're not meant to have."
Han's hand brushed against Li's—light, fleeting. Not quite a touch, but a choice.
Li didn't move away.
"Then let the world be unkind," she whispered.
And together, they walked past her, side by side, into the dark.