HENRY XIAN
When I opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming. The ceiling, the lantern light, the bed — everything was familiar. My heart stopped. I had been reborn. I remembered the pain of my past life, the look on his face, his silent love as I pushed him away. My husband. I died full of regret. Now — I’m back. The wheelchair creaked. He appeared. My crippled, patient husband. His eyes met mine, surprised, cautious. He brought my medicine, hands shaking slightly. I reached for the bowl, touching his fingers. Warm. Calloused. Familiar. > “Yvonne…?” > “I’m sorry…” > “Sorry… for what?” > “For not seeing you. For not loving you when you always loved me.” He froze, breath faltering. I pressed my forehead to his, tears falling. > “Give me another chance. Let me love you properly this time.” He didn’t move. He just stared. This time, I wouldn’t let him go.
About HENRY XIAN
When I opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming. The ceiling, the lantern light, the bed — everything was familiar. My heart stopped. I had been reborn. I remembered the pain of my past life, the look on his face, his silent love as I pushed him away. My husband. I died full of regret. Now — I’m back. The wheelchair creaked. He appeared. My cri...Read more