Passing, Never Touching

It was the fifth year of Alans second marriage. The child his new wife bore him was already in kindergarten. I, however, remained unchanged. Every day, I squeezed onto the subway, busy working overtime until ten at night. There was no grand return after the divorce, no sweet redemption by a wealthy second lead. All I had left was the fact that Alan and I lived in the same city, yet had never crossed paths again.

That day, I emerged from the subway station, numb as usual. The first thing I saw was Alans car, parked by the side of the road.

Snowflakes suddenly began to fall from the sky. I pulled my down jacket tighter, covering my sallow face, a testament to too many sleepless nights. I hurried a few steps forward, only to be slapped to the ground by a furious woman who had stormed out of the car behind Alan. My ears rang, but I could still hear the varied whispers of passersby.

Good for her! This shameless woman, trying to seduce someone elses husband, deserves a lesson!

The wet stain on my pants from the melted snow grew larger. I sat on the ground, disheveled, ignoring their contemptuous gazes. I recognized her as Alans current wife. If it had been anyone else, fueled by three months of overtime and hunger, I would have fought her to the bitter end. But Alan was still here. One was a hated ex-wife, the other a deeply loved current wife. I didnt need to guess who he would side with. Both of them, together, I couldn't win.

Spineless, I brushed off my clothes and lowered my head, ready to leave. The hood of my down jacket was suddenly yanked from behind. I stumbled, my back instantly hitting a hard, iron-like chest.

Summer, you think you can just leave without apologizing?

How unreasonable. He hit me, and then expected me to apologize? But I knew Alan was fiercely protective. Anyone under his wing, even if they were wrong, was right. He had a hundred ways to ruin me, and I couldn't afford any of them.

Im sorry. I wasnt looking where I was going and accidentally bumped into your wifes hand.

Perhaps it was from being scolded by my boss too often, but I didnt even feel that humiliated. Yet, Alans face seemed to grow colder. He slowly lowered his head, and when his eyes met mine, a flicker of hurt seemed to cross them.

Summer, are you so certain I wouldnt protect you?

For a moment, I was back to the day Alan and I divorced, him on his knees, pleading.

I dont want anything, Summer. Dont leave me.

If it had been that Alan saying hed protect me, I would have believed him. But now, he had a wife, a son, a warm family. And Summer? To him, she was nothing anymore.

Oh, you little tramp, you dare to seduce my husband right in front of me! The womans face twisted into a snarl, and she lunged at me. I wasnt entirely without temper. To let her bully me again and again. Just as I was about to fight back regardless of the cost, Alan intervened. He forcefully pulled us apart, dragging me behind him, accidentally bumping into a passing pedestrian. I fell again.

Alan tightly embraced his wife. He chuckled softly.

Why are you stooping to her level? Youll just devalue yourself. Serena, are you that insecure? I already have you as my wife, why would I ever look at any other common woman?

His warm lips almost brushed her reddened earlobe. The woman blushed shyly, then looked back at me with a touch of confusion.

Shes my ex-wife, Summer.

The moment the words left his lips, the womans defenses finally dropped. She smiled.

Oh, shes the foolish ex-wife Mom always talked about, as dumb as a brick!

A flood of memories washed over me.

Idiot! You cant even do this simple thing right. All you do is embarrass my son. Our Miller family was truly unlucky to marry such a troublesome daughter-in-law!

Mrs. Millers contemptuous and mocking gaze pierced through my layered defenses and appeared before my eyes. Originally, I had only thought that the difference between Alan and me was just our vastly unequal family backgrounds. But after marrying into the Miller family, I realized that connections, education, and social circlesthese invisible, intangible thingswere where I truly fell short. They could speak fluent English, laughing and chatting with those around them. But when Alan brought me along, I found it hard to even greet his friends. My clumsy accent made everyone present chuckle.

I became a joke. And, naturally, I dragged Alan down with me, making him a joke as well. As I made an excuse to hide in the restroom, the laughter continued behind me, interspersed with a few teasing remarks.

Alan, your wife is a bit unpresentable, isnt she? For someone of your status, you cant just go by looks!

At that moment, I slowed my steps, wanting to hear Alans answer. But the instant he opened his mouth, I, still lacking courage, fled the scene in a sorry state. I didn't want to hear him say he regretted marrying me. Even though I tried so hard, attending eighteen hours of lessons arranged by Mrs. Miller every day, to learn what they had mastered twenty years before me.

In the bone-chilling winter, large beads of cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Alan released his wife's side and quickly strode towards me in a panic. The past shadow merged with the present. I didnt want to disappoint him, I didnt want to embarrass him, and I didnt want to be in the same space as him anymore. I abruptly turned and ran back towards the subway entrance.

By the time I got home, it was already one in the morning. After a quick wash, I was too exhausted to even eat. I just climbed into bed. For five years, I had numbed myself with endless work, preventing myself from reminiscing about the past. But seeing Alan again had still brought considerable ripples to my long-calm heart.

It wasn't until I saw the savings accumulated on my phone over the years that I felt a genuine sense of still being alive. Once the current project was complete, I would receive a hefty bonus. Then this year, I would have enough money to quit my job and retire. When Alan and I divorced, he had given me a sum of money. I didn't want it. But I couldn't even find an opportunity to return it to him. He had deleted all my contact information from his phone. The company security guards, having received instructions, would rush me out whenever they saw me. When I waited outside his apartment complex, Alan never came back.

Later, Mrs. Miller came out of Alans house. She instructed her driver to call the police, claiming I was trespassing. Before the call was made, I pulled out the bank card Alan had given me. I had never checked how much money was in it. I also didn't know that Alan had lied to his parents, telling them I left empty-handed. Mrs. Miller snatched it and stuffed it into her designer handbag. She had the driver chase me away, as if I were a homeless person.

Wasted my sons good years, and still want our Miller familys money? You poor people are the most calculating! Trying to use the excuse of returning money to make my son pity you and take you back? Let me tell you the truth, my son is currently on a date with a daughter-in-law Im very satisfied with. Theyre getting engaged in a few days!

Just as Mrs. Miller said. Three days later, the Miller Group officially announced its alliance with the Harrington Group. Alan, divorced just seven days, now had a fiance.

The next day, with dark circles under my eyes, I took an hour-long subway ride to work. My colleagues at the company were more enthusiastic than usual; almost everyone was holding a small mirror, touching up their makeup. A colleague I got along with pulled me aside and whispered.

The young lady from the head office is coming to inspect our work today. Everyone wants to make a good impression!

As a workhorse who was only a few months away from saving enough money to retire, I didnt care who visited, be it the young lady or the CEO himself. But I didn't expect the woman, who was surrounded by the usually mysterious CEO of the company, to be Alans wife, Serena Harrington. As she passed me, she deliberately glanced in my direction. With just that one look, I knew. Yesterdays incident wasnt over. She wasnt going to let me go.

Sure enough, soon after, the manager took all the unfinished work from other employees and handed it to me.

You must finish all this today, or you cant leave work.

The stacks of dense documents already towered over my computer. Even if I had a week, I couldnt finish it. I stood up, pointing at the documents and confronting the manager.

I cant finish it. Even if I had eight hands, I couldnt finish it.

A colleague spoke up for me.

Manager, are you mistaken? How can all this work be given to Summer alone?

The manager snorted, leaving no room for negotiation.

The young lady ordered it. If anyone wants to help her, they can collect their salary and leave immediately!

My colleagues lowered their heads, falling silent. During lunch break, I still hadnt touched the documents piled on my desk. A colleague, eating lunch, hesitantly patted my shoulder, lowering their voice.

Summer, if you know this young lady, just apologize. Shes clearly waiting for you to beg her.

But how should I apologize for this? That I was married to Alan, this was an unchangeable fact. If she was causing me trouble because I was Alans ex-wife, then no matter how much I begged her, she wouldnt let me go.

By the afternoon, colleagues who used to talk to me no longer acknowledged me. Something else must have happened. A sudden, indescribable wave of resentment swelled in my heart. Alan and I had already broken up. I was only a few months away from leaving. Why, just when I was about to see hope, were new obstacles suddenly created, blocking my path to happiness?

I sat at my desk all afternoon. After finishing my own work, it still wasnt quitting time. I comforted myself. At least I wouldnt have to work overtime today. What should I treat myself to? But when quitting time arrived, everyone in the office grabbed their bags and rushed into the elevator. Oh, I forgot. They had given all their work to me; there was no overtime for them. I knew they didnt want to be around me. After almost everyone had left, I finally shut down my computer and slowly went downstairs.

In front of the company building, Alans car was parked. Next to him stood Serena Harrington, clinging to his arm like a delicate bird.

Seeing me, Alan showed no surprise. He knew I worked here. Or, he knew his wife was deliberately seeking me out. He allowed it, he indulged it. This thought ripped at my heart. I didnt know why I was sad. We had already divorced.

As I stepped down the stairs, Alans indifferent gaze swept over me, as if I were a stranger.

Why isnt she joining you for the dinner? Serena, isnt she from your company?

The arm that had been linked with the woman was subtly withdrawn. The man still smiled gently. Serenas face, however, paled slightly. Without her needing to gesture, the quick-witted manager rushed over. He grabbed me, muttering complaints.

Summer, is your brain made of water? Did you forget about our company dinner tonight? Why arent you thanking the young lady right away?!

I didnt know. No one had told me. The manager was afraid of offending her, so I stayed silent. He dug his fingers into my arm, hard enough to tear my down jacket. I tried to pull away but couldn't, and I didnt want to draw attention by speaking up, so I just endured it.

Suddenly, a soft Tsk sound. Serena cried out in pain, not daring to lose her temper at Alan. She could only whisper plaintively:

Alan, youre hurting me.

Alan slowly raised his hand, looking at me with a half-smile.

Oh, I thought it wouldnt hurt. Look, she doesnt hurt at all.

Everyones gaze followed the mans. The managers small, round eyes detected something unusual. He quickly let go of me and instinctively put some distance between us. Since I was the last to arrive, everyone else had already arranged transportation. I had no choice but to get into Alans back seat.

In the car, before Alan could even start driving, Serena unexpectedly leaned over and kissed his cheek. Alan instinctively started to lift his hand to wipe it, but then, in mid-air, abruptly changed course. He considerately fastened her seatbelt. The two whispered closely, and in the confined space of the car, I could still hear.

There are outsiders. Ill give you more when we get home.

Serena blushed coyly. Just as she was about to plant another kiss on his lips, Alan had already gotten up. The woman, without changing her expression, turned and smiled at me.

Sorry for the display, Ms. Stern. My husband and I are just like this at home; its hard to change when were out.

I offered a perfunctory reply:

Ms. Harrington, your happy marriage is truly enviable.

In the rearview mirror, a cold gaze shot directly at me. I couldnt understand. Which of my words had been wrong just now? Praising their happy marriagewas that wrong?