I’m not sure I can fix it anymore

Mo Ran sat alone in the dimly lit bar, the amber glow from the overhead lights casting soft shadows across his sharp features. A half-empty glass of whiskey rested in his hand, the ice clinking softly as he swirled the liquid. The bar was quiet—just the low hum of jazz music in the background and the faint murmur of other patrons—but to him, it felt oppressively loud.

He had told Lixue he was meeting friends, but the truth was, there were no friends left to meet.

His gaze dropped to his phone, the screen lighting up as he thumbed through his contacts until it stopped on one name: Du Yuan. His jaw clenched. It had been months since they last spoke, since everything had shattered between them. The fallout had been brutal, and every attempt to reach out since had been ignored.

But tonight, the whiskey dulled his pride, and before he could stop himself, he pressed the call button. He brought the phone to his ear, heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something far more complicated.

The line rang once. Twice.

By the third ring, he knew what was coming.

"The number you have dialed is unreachable."

A bitter laugh escaped him, low and humorless. He slammed the phone down on the bar, ignoring the curious glance from the bartender. "Of course it is," he muttered under his breath, taking another long drink.

Du Yuan had been more than a friend—he had been a constant presence in Mo Ran's life, the only person who dared to challenge him, who understood the cold exterior he wore wasn't all there was. And then, he had married Lixue.

Mo Ran exhaled sharply, the memory of that confrontation still fresh.

"You still married her." Du Yuan's voice had been raw, trembling with emotions Mo Ran hadn't wanted to acknowledge. "You knew—"

"I knew what?" Mo Ran had interrupted, cold and defensive. "You knew I couldn't give you what you wanted."

And that was how it had ended. Months of silence. And tonight, Mo Ran was still the villain in Du Yuan's story. But hadn't it always been that way?

He downed the rest of the whiskey in one go, the burn in his throat nowhere near as painful as the ache in his chest. His fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles turned white. "To hell with this," he muttered, shoving himself to his feet.

The drive to Du Yuan's place was reckless. The alcohol coursing through his veins dulled his sense of reason, but the sharp edge of anger kept him focused. He needed answers. Closure. Something. Anything to put an end to this gnawing emptiness.

When he arrived, the house loomed dark and silent. He stumbled to the front door, pounding on it with his fist.

"Du Yuan!" he called, his voice hoarse with frustration. "Open the door!"

Nothing.

He pounded again, harder this time. "I know you're in there! Stop pretending you're unreachable."

Still, no answer.

His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold night air biting at his skin. He pressed his forehead against the door, his anger dissolving into something closer to despair. "Why won't you talk to me?"

The only response was the echo of his own words, swallowed by the quiet.

And for the first time in years, Mo Ran felt truly alone.

Mo Ran stood there for a moment, his breath misting in the air as he leaned against the door, his fist still resting against the wood. The silence of the night seemed to close in on him, suffocating in its stillness. He had never felt more detached from everything he once knew.

There was a time when he and Du Yuan had been inseparable, partners in everything. They had understood each other without needing to speak, and in Du Yuan's eyes, Mo Ran had always been something more than just friendship. But that bond had shattered the moment Mo Ran had chosen to marry Lixue.

He had been blind to the consequences, too focused on his own complicated feelings for his family to realize what he was throwing away.

But he couldn't give Du Yuan what he wanted, he didn't see him in that light.

Now, standing outside Du Yuan's house, Mo Ran was left with nothing but the echo of his own choices and the growing realization that he might have lost the only person who truly understood him.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he stepped back from the door. He had come here for answers, for some kind of resolution, but it was clear that Du Yuan wasn't going to give him that. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

"You're making a mistake, Du Yuan…" he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "But I'm not sure if I can fix it anymore."

With a final look at the darkened windows, Mo Ran turned and stumbled back to his car, the anger that had fueled him earlier now a dull ache in his chest. He didn't have the energy to keep fighting it. He didn't have the energy to keep pretending everything was fine.

The drive back to his house was slow, the roads almost empty in the late hour. His mind was foggy, the alcohol clouding his thoughts, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something he didn't want to acknowledge.

Lixue.

He hadn't meant to hurt her. He hadn't wanted to drag her into all this mess, but he had. And now, he couldn't stop thinking about her. The way she looked at him, the way she always held herself back, hiding behind that stubborn wall she'd built. She was as complicated as he was, and maybe that's why he couldn't stop himself from getting tangled up in her.

The car pulled into the driveway, and Mo Ran sat for a moment, staring at the house in front of him. The house that was supposed to be their home now. His and Lixue's.

But as he stepped out and made his way to the door, he realized that things would never be simple between them. The tension between them was palpable, like an unspoken agreement to keep their distance, even as they were bound together by something neither of them could fully understand.

He entered quietly, hoping to avoid waking anyone, but as he opening the room door, he saw a familiar figure sitting on the bed, staring at her phone.

Lixue.

Her gaze met his, and for a split second, Mo Ran thought he saw something soft in her eyes—a vulnerability that mirrored his own. But it was gone before he could be sure.

"You're back late," Lixue said, her voice calm but with an edge he couldn't quite place.