Xinyi never thought she’d find herself in a café so often, yet here she was—again. She told herself it was for the peaceful atmosphere, a good place to study without distractions. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t entirely true.
Zhao Chen, as usual, moved effortlessly around the café, balancing trays, taking orders, and occasionally throwing a teasing comment her way whenever he caught her staring too long at her laptop screen. She always rolled her eyes in response, but it was becoming harder to deny that she was starting to enjoy these moments.
She took a slow sip of the drink he had placed in front of her earlier without asking. It was always something new, as if he was testing different flavors to see which one she liked best. She never commented on it, but she noticed.
As she absentmindedly scrolled through her notes, she suddenly caught sight of Zhao Chen rubbing his temples, his usually sharp eyes dulled with exhaustion.
For some reason, the sight unsettled her.
“Do you ever take a break?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Zhao Chen glanced at her, surprised. Then, a smirk curled at his lips. “Worried about me?”
She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I just don’t get how you work this much.”
He exhaled softly, leaning against the counter. “Some people don’t have the luxury to rest.”
His words lingered in the air, and Xinyi felt an unfamiliar pang in her chest. She had money—her parents always made sure she had enough to cover anything she wanted, yet they never treated her like she mattered. Meanwhile, Zhao Chen was always working, always moving, yet he never seemed bitter about it.
She hesitated, then muttered, “Maybe you should take a day off.”
Zhao Chen raised an eyebrow. “And do what?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered, suddenly regretting saying anything. “Something that isn’t work.”
He tilted his head, considering her words. Then, unexpectedly, his smirk softened. “Maybe I will.”
A strange warmth spread in her chest, but she pushed it aside. It didn’t mean anything.
Before she left the café that evening, Zhao Chen casually handed her a napkin with a phone number scribbled on it. “In case you ever need help with coding… or anything else.”
She stared at it for a moment, then shoved it into her pocket without a word.
As she walked home, she caught herself smiling before quickly shaking her head. “It’s just because he’s the first person to care,” she told herself. But deep down, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
The moment Xinyi stepped into her house, she knew something was wrong.
Her mother sat stiffly in the living room, arms crossed. Her father stood nearby, his expression unreadable but tense.
“Where were you?” her mother’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.
Xinyi swallowed, keeping her tone neutral. “At a café.”
“With who?”
She hesitated. “Alone.”
We heard,” her father said flatly. “Running around with some cheap worker, embarrassing our family.”
“He’s not—”
Her mother scoffed. “You barely have any friends, but suddenly, you’re sneaking around with some random boy?”
Xinyi clenched her fists. “I wasn’t sneaking.”
“Then why didn’t you tell us?”
Because you wouldn’t let me.
Because you never cared unless it was to control me.
Her mother sighed dramatically. “I always knew something was wrong with you. You never listen. You never even try to be a proper daughter.”
Her father shook his head. “Ungrateful.”
The words hit harder than she wanted them to.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to hold it together.
She wanted to scream. To tell them that she worked so hard, that she was the top student, that she had done everything they asked for.
But none of it mattered.
They never cared.
They only cared about owning her.
“…I’m going to my room,” she muttered.
Her mother’s voice was ice-cold. “Don’t think this conversation is over.”
Xinyi didn’t respond. She just climbed the stairs, locking her bedroom door behind her.
Her hands trembled as she pulled out her phone.
For a long time, she just stared at the screen.
And then, almost without thinking, she opened her chat with Zhao Chen.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say.
Help me.
I hate this.
I feel like I’m drowning.
But she couldn’t say that.
So instead, she typed something else.
Xinyi: How do you debug a program that keeps crashing even when the code looks fine?
It was stupid. It wasn’t even what she really wanted to ask.
But deep down, she knew.
This wasn’t about coding.
It was about something else entirely.