After the Lunar New Year, time seemed to pass even faster.
Rowan continued his chemotherapy. He grew thinner by the day, and all of his hair had fallen out. But after getting through February and nearing early March, the weather warmed, and his health showed signs of improvement. The doctors said that he might soon be discharged and allowed to go home.
This news made both Anwen and Rowan very happy and excited.
There were only two bags of chemotherapy drugs left before Rowan could finally return home after months in the hospital. Anwen had already told his dogs and cats the news, and they were overjoyed. From the very beginning, Anwen had always been the one responsible for administering Rowan's chemotherapy. Today was no exception. But just as she inserted the IV line into the bag of medication and turned it upside down to hang it, the chemotherapy solution suddenly overflowed for no apparent reason and splashed onto Anwen's hand. The liquid spread quickly, and her skin flushed red. Anwen froze, not yet able to react, when a shout rang out:
"Anwen!"
Rowan reached out instinctively, as if to grab her hand. At that moment, Anwen snapped back to her senses and hurriedly stepped aside.
"Don't touch me."
Rowan's hand closed on empty air. He looked at her, full of worry.
"The chemo spilled on your hand. Are you okay? Does it hurt? Come here, let me see. Let's go find a doctor."
As he spoke, Rowan tried to get off the bed. Anwen quickly raised her uninjured hand to stop him, letting the injured one hang down.
"I'm fine. Sit there. I'm a nurse, remember? Wait for me a moment—I'll be right back."
With that, Anwen hurried out of the room.
Only after leaving the ward did she dare to examine her hand properly. She knew Rowan had panicked, which was why she had rushed away. The burn stung and hurt. She remembered clearly the doctor's warning: if chemotherapy ever got on the skin, she had to notify medical staff immediately. So she went straight to have the wound treated.
At the time, Anwen didn't fully understand why the doctors had been so strict about that rule. A few days later, when her wound became swollen and began to fester, she finally realized just how toxic those drugs were.
The injured flesh had completely necrosed and had to be cut away.
Anwen was an angel, and of course she could feel pain—but this pain meant nothing to her. Rowan, however, insisted on following her whenever she went to clean the wound. He stood beside her, repeatedly asking, "Does it hurt?"
She shook her head and replied, "No."
Her answer was true, she truly didn't feel any pain. But Rowan didn't believe her. He thought she was forcing herself to endure it alone. So when they returned to the ward, Rowan pressed an ice pack against her hand and said,
"If it hurts, just say so. You don't have to endure it alone."
"It really doesn't hurt."
Just then, the elderly woman in the neighboring bed spoke up:
"You two go flirt somewhere else, will you? We're not even done eating yet."
As soon as she finished speaking, the entire ward burst into laughter, all eyes turning toward the two of them.
Anwen and Rowan froze, flustered and embarrassed, neither daring to show it openly. She knew that she felt the same way he did and that he felt the same way she did. Both of them lowered their heads. Rowan kept holding the ice pack to her hand, and the rims of both their ears turned red.
The air between them grew painfully awkward. Anwen's mind was in a tangled mess, completely blank, she didn't know what to say or even what to think. Her heart raced, and she found herself wondering what Rowan might be thinking and feeling right now. Recalling the old woman's teasing words, Anwen suddenly thought that if it were true, maybe… she wouldn't mind. But perhaps it was just a joke. Then again, jokes usually had some basis. Rowan's behavior toward her right now was undeniably affectionate. He cared deeply about her, when the chemotherapy spilled on her hand, he had been so anxious.
Surely everyone else could sense that Rowan treated her differently, that must be why they joked like that. Half of a joke was false, half was true. No, at least for Anwen, seventy percent felt true, and only thirty percent false.
The silence between them lingered, even after everyone else had gone back to their own business. When the ice had completely melted, Rowan finally set the ice pack down. Only then did Anwen realize they couldn't stay silent forever, so she spoke first:
"The chemotherapy is so toxic… it only touched my hand a little, and it swelled and festered like this. I don't know what it must be like when it goes into your body…"
"It's nothing," Rowan replied. "I think I'm luckier than the elderly and the children here. But…"He paused, then reached under his pillow, pulling something into his palm before holding it out to Anwen."Here, this is for you."
When Rowan opened his hand, there were several colorful gummy candies inside. Anwen's eyes immediately lit up.
"Oh, they're so pretty."
She took the candies from his hand, unwrapped one, and popped it into her mouth. The sweet scent spread, the flavor sweet and slightly sour. Anwen beamed.
"This is the best candy I've ever eaten."
Rowan gently brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face and smiled.
"I dragged you into this, and I don't even know if your wound will leave a scar. Such a beautiful girl's hand, how could it be right for it to scar? If it hurts, just tell me."
Anwen replied,
"Do you know wabi-sabi? In Japanese, it means loving imperfection. This world was never perfect to begin with. To me, every scar has its own beauty. Even if this wound leaves a scar on my hand, I won't be sad at all."
Something flickered in Rowan's eyes, an emotion difficult to describe. A mix of hesitation, tenderness, and a quiet affection beginning to bloom.
After some time of treatment in the hospital, Rowan's condition stabilized a little, and the doctors allowed him to return home. Knowing how rare this time at home was, Rowan was thrilled and so was Anwen.
On the day he returned after such a long hospitalization, the dogs and cats were ecstatic. As usual, they had been sitting at the gate every day, eyes fixed on the distance, their gazes sad and watery with longing. Whenever they saw Anwen arrive each afternoon, they would stand up and wag their tails, though the sadness in their eyes never quite faded. They rubbed their heads against her legs, making soft whimpering sounds, as if both asking when Rowan would return.
Seeing how deeply affectionate they were, Anwen's heart softened more and more. There wasn't a day when she didn't comfort them, telling them that Rowan would recover and return soon even when her own heart was heavy with sorrow.
"Forever" was not ten years, twenty years, or even a thousand years. Forever was waiting with no end in sight waiting in hopelessness.
That day, as usual, the dogs and cats were sitting at the gate. But when they caught sight of Rowan approaching from afar, they recognized him instantly. Their eyes flared to life like dying embers suddenly fed by flame. They pressed against the gate bars, tails wagging furiously, waiting for Rowan to come closer.
Reunions with loved ones were always the most moving.
The moment the gate opened, the dogs and cats leapt onto him, licking his face, clinging to him, unwilling to let go. Tears filled their eyes as they crowded around Rowan, as if afraid that the moment they released him, he would disappear again.
Anwen stood nearby, her eyes wet with tears. She had told them he was ill, but she had never told them that the illness could take him away from her and from them at any time. Could they understand? Could they sense that separation was drawing closer? Just thinking about it broke her heart. If they were sent to a shelter, how long would it take them to accept the truth?
Seeing Rowan's smile and the animals' joy, Anwen reminded herself to stay positive. She shouldn't think like that. Time was limited now, she needed to cherish it.
He returned home at the end of spring. The peach blossoms had already fallen, but peach trees weren't beautiful only when they bloomed.
Behind Rowan's house stood several old peach trees. Now they were dressed in lush green like camouflage, yet nestled among the leaves were ripe peaches, blushing pink.
Anwen held the basket while Rowan picked the fruit.
"It's a shame," Rowan said thoughtfully as he dropped peaches into the basket. "We didn't get to see the peach blossoms this year. They're usually beautiful."
"For a foodie like me," Anwen replied, eyes sparkling as she looked at the heavy fruit, "I don't care much about flowers. I like eating the fruit."
As she looked at the peaches piled in the basket each as big as her fist, memories of Journey to the West suddenly surfaced. She recalled the scene where the Monkey King tended the Peach Garden. Watching him eat those huge, pale pink peaches, she had once wondered what they tasted like. She remembered feeling regretful when he tossed half-eaten peaches aside surely they were sweet.
Now, holding these peaches in her hands, Anwen felt that even without tasting them yet, this moment alone was already the greatest sweetness of her life.
Once Rowan recovered a bit more, he returned to teaching. Anwen followed him to his art classes, becoming his student. Officially, she was there to learn painting but in truth, she had her own reasons. She loved watching him patiently guide his students, explaining color mixing, sketching techniques, and composition. His gentleness and focus made her deeply happy.
So the whole class passed without her finishing a single painting. But she liked it that way. She liked pretending to struggle so he would come over to help her. She liked smudging paint on her hands on purpose, just so he could wipe it away for her. And so, every day, morning and afternoon, they went and returned together.
Half of summer slipped by in the blink of an eye. Every night, Anwen looked up at the sky, hoping to see a shooting star so she could wish for time to slow down just a little so she could stay by his side longer.
One ordinary day after class, Anwen stepped outside first to wait for Rowan. Just then, a little girl ran past her, leaned close, and whispered,
"I know you like Teacher Trung. When you want to confess, tell us, we'll help you."
Anwen jolted in shock. Before she could react, the girl had already run off, leaving Anwen standing there, frozen.
Her face burned hot. She felt like burying her face and digging a hole to crawl into. Being teased by a child younger than her, it was unbearably embarrassing. And the girl had said "we," which meant the whole class had noticed. Had she really been that obvious? The more she thought about it, the more mortified she felt.
Just then, a voice sounded behind her:
"Let's go."
The students had all left. Rowan came out and locked the classroom door. His voice startled her.
He noticed her reaction and asked,
"What's wrong? Why is your face so red?"
"Oh, nothing. Um… it's probably just because it's hot today."
"Oh, is that so? Then let's head home."
Anwen loved the feeling of walking home with Rowan in the evenings. They walked side by side, a sense of quiet peace surrounding them. The sunset bathed them in honey-colored light, their shadows stretching long and drawing closer together. They walked unhurriedly, no matter how rushed the world around them was. Sometimes they chatted about the day, or about little things they'd seen along the way.
It was a road Anwen walked every day, yet she never grew tired of it. Each day it felt a little fresher, a little more beautiful than the last. A tree might have a new flower or leaf, the grass a deeper green, the road either quiet or blanketed with fallen leaves.
Anwen wished this moment could last forever.
Just as she was lost in thought, a voice suddenly called out:
"Hey!"
She jumped, but instantly recognized the voice, it was Ariel.
Perched on the fence ahead, Ariel sat casually. Anwen didn't know why she was there, but she still shot her an annoyed glare for startling her.
Then she turned to Rowan and said,
"I just remembered I have something urgent to take care of today, so I won't be coming by your place. Let's part here."
Rowan nodded."Alright. I'll head back then."
"Yes."
Anwen stopped and watched Rowan's retreating figure until he disappeared from sight. Only then did she turn into a side street, become invisible again, and walk over to Ariel.
"What kind of call was that? Like something out of the jungle."
Ariel pouted."Well, someone's following the call of her heart, so I had to call her back."
Anwen didn't argue and instead asked,"Why are you looking for me?"
"Can't I visit if there's no reason?" Ariel teased. "You look busy like a proper family woman now."
Anwen shot her a glare and said nothing.
Only then did Ariel speak seriously:"I haven't seen you in Heaven for a long time, so I came to check on you. That man… how is his health?"
Anwen lowered her gaze slightly."I don't know. Cancer is unpredictable."
"Oh…" Ariel's voice softened.
The two of them sat quietly together as the sun sank lower and lower, like a sheet of paper burning itself away in the human world. Night finally fell, and the air grew cooler and gentler.
Only then did Anwen speak.