Two weeks after their separation, it was Lin's birthday. Yeh opened the video posted by Lin's studio. It was edited cleanly, with a bright rhythm. The footage showed laughter, lights, and a crowd surrounding her. Behind-the-scenes clips revealed more candid moments—people teasing, cake being passed around, Lin standing at the center, naturally basking in the attention.
That vibrant world was where she belonged.
Yeh watched it through without pausing or replaying, letting it end naturally. Then she opened her chat window with Lin.
She quickly typed: "Happy Birthday." Simple, restrained, and polite.
But her finger hovered over the send button.
In that very second, she could already predict the likely outcome:
Lin's phone vibrating nonstop, messages piling up one on top of another.
Yeh's greeting would be buried in the list, never opened individually.
Or seen, but left unanswered.
Or worse, ignored completely.
These weren't emotional assumptions, they were rational deductions.
She knew herself too well. It wasn't the words "Happy Birthday" that mattered; it was the potential letdown that followed. Once sent, she would start waiting. Waiting to be seen, waiting for a reply, and eventually, making excuses for Lin if none came.
She knew this cycle too well. And this kind of "waiting" was likely to disrupt her peace.
She had just recently pulled her life back onto stable tracks—work progressing, rhythm clear, emotions controlled. She wasn't about to let a single message throw it off balance. So she deleted the characters. The movement was light, without hesitation. It wasn't that she didn't want to say it; she knew that saying it might cost her the composure she had worked so hard to maintain.
She also knew Lin didn't need her wish. Studio arrangements, friends, the noise of cameras and celebrations—the day would be filled with joy completely.
Judging from her past vlogs, these celebrations were never quite; they only grew grander and more crowded this year. Under that atmosphere, a simple message wouldn't stand out, nor would it be remembered.
It wasn't cruel. It was just reality.
Yeh accepted it, so she chose not to send it.
It wasn't coldness, nor was it distance. It was a profound sense of proportion.
She locked her phone and set it aside.
And in the silence of her heart, she whispered: Happy birthday. I hope this year brings you everything you wish for.