A Blind Date with My Ex
I stared at the line of text, as if time itself had frozen.
My finger hovered over the screen for a long time, wanting to reply, yet unable to type even a single punctuation mark.
The rain outside drizzled softly, raindrops tapping against the glass with a "pat pat" sound, as if silently weeping for me.
I stood up and began gathering the things he had left behind at my place.
His gray coat was still in the wardrobe. I reached out and touched the fabricit was the same style I had once helped him choose.
On the desk lay his usual black fountain pen, the cap still warm from the touch of his fingers.
I opened the drawer, and a box of unfinished stomach medicine fell outhe had often complained of stomach pain. I had consulted the pharmacist at length, selecting the medicine with the fewest side effects, thinking I could keep it ready for him at any time.
But now, all these things have become superfluous.
I packed them into cardboard boxes one by one, and each time I placed an item inside, it was as if my heart was pricked by a dull, aching needle.
When I reached the stomach medicine, I couldn't help but pause, recalling how he used to suffer from stomach pains and I would hand him the medicine with warm water. He would smile and say, "It's so good to have you here."
A few days later, my body began to feel off.
That morning, the scent of frying oil drifting from the kitchen made me nauseous. Clutching the wall, I hastened to the restroom and bent over the toilet, dry heaving for a long while, unable to bring anything up.
Breakfast was laid out on the table; the eggs and porridge were things I used to love, but now just looking at them made me lose my appetiteI couldn't eat a single bite.
Sitting on the sofa watching TV, I suddenly felt dizzy; the images before me swayed, and all I wanted was to lie down.
My mother came over holding a cup of warm water and touched my forehead. "Willow, your complexion has been so pale these days. Are you catching a cold?"
I shook my head, took the water cup, and sipped. "I don't know. I just feel drained."
"No, you must go to the hospital and get checked." My mother frowned, picked up my coat, and said, "Quick, don't delay."
I gripped the medical record book, sitting outside the consultation room, my palms drenched in sweat.
People passed by in the corridor, footsteps and voices mingling, yet none of it registered; my mind was consumed by the thought, 'It can't be serious, can it?'
The doctor stepped out holding the laboratory report, pushed his glasses up, and spoke with a calm tone: 'You're pregnantabout six weeks along.'
I was completely stunned, a buzzing filled my ears, like a swarm of bees flying within me.
The doctor's following words'get plenty of rest,' 'nourish yourself'all slipped past me unheard.
Stepping out of the hospital, the sunlight was piercingly bright, yet a chill swept through me, as though cold water had been poured over me, making my steps falter.
At home, Mother sat on the sofa knitting, her needles dancing swiftly through the yarn.
When she saw me return, she immediately set down her knitting and stood up. "Willow, how did the tests go? Is everything alright?"
I forced myself to stay composed, hiding the laboratory report behind my back to keep her from noticing my anxiety. "It's nothing, Mom. Just a bit of low blood sugar. The doctor said I should eat more."
"It's alright then." Mother breathed a sigh of relief, then took my hand, her eyes shining brightly, her voice full of hope. "By the way, I have something to tell you."
Ms. Clark has introduced someone for you. His family is very well off; both his parents are university professors. The young man works at a state-owned enterprise and has a stable job. Would you like to meet him tomorrow?
I stood frozen in place. I hadn't even had time to mention the pregnancy, and now there was a blind date to consider.
I opened my mouth to refuse, but seeing the hopeful look in Mother's eyes, the words caught in my throatI knew she had been saying lately, "I'm worried about you being alone." If she knew I was not only broken up but also pregnant, she would surely be too anxious to sleep.
"Just go and see; if it doesn't work out, we can talk about it then." My mother shook my hand, her tone softening, the warmth of her fingertips comforting. "Ms. Clark has already arranged everything with someone; it wouldn't be right not to go."
I nodded, but inside, my mind was a tangled mess.
Perhaps going on a blind date could help me momentarily forget these troubling worries?
At least it would ease my mother's concerns.
The blind date was arranged at a Western restaurant called "Encounter."
I arrived ten minutes early and pushed open the glass door; the wind chime tinkled softly.
The interior was pleasant, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pocket park outside. Children ran across the lawn, while a gentle piano piece played softly inside, its melody tender.
I chose a seat by the window. The waitress, neatly dressed in uniform, approached holding a menu. "Hello, may I take your order now?" she asked.
I shook my head, my fingers absentmindedly brushing the tablecloth. "I'll wait until the guest arrives, thank you."
The waitress nodded and walked away.
I watched the steady flow of people passing by outside the window, my heart full of unease.
I wondered what the other person looked like.
Will it be very serious?
What should I talk about with strangers?
My fingers traced the edge of the water cup; its cold touch steadied me somewhat.
Not long after, footsteps echoed from the restaurant entrance.
I looked up; my heart jolted, and I nearly lost my grip on the water cuphow could it be him?
He saw me too; his steps faltered, his face was full of surprise, eyes wide and shadowed with disbelief.
He wore a navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing a watch on his wrist. He looked more alive than before.
He hurried over, pulled out the chair opposite me, and sat down. His voice was still a little stunned: "Why is it you?"
"I was just about to ask you the same thing." I tightened my grip on the cup in my hand; my fingertips went pale, and my knuckles ached slightly. "How did you end up on a blind date?"
"It was arranged by my family. I had no choice." He leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the table, looking at me with a complicated expressionpart appraisal, part confirmation. "And you? How did you come to a blind date?"
"I..." I avoided his gaze and looked out at the greenery beyond the window, the leaves gently swaying in the breeze. "It was arranged by my family too. I had no choice either."
"What a coincidence." He raised an eyebrow, a faint curve tugging at the corner of his mouth, and a look in his eyes I couldn't quite decipher part curiosity, part something else. "If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have been so nervous all this while."
The waiter returned, holding the menu. "Are you ready to order now?"
"Not yet." He didn't look at the menu; his gaze remained fixed on me as he spoke firmly, "There are other matters we need to discuss."
The waiter nodded and turned away.
Only the sound of the piano filled the restaurant, the air seeming to still, casting a slightly awkward atmosphere.
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