Xu dropped onto the bed with a heavy, graceless plop.
“I am dead tired,” she mumbled into the pillow. “I am going to sleep like a corpse.”
She did not even bother pulling the blanket up. One arm hung off the edge of the mattress. Her breathing evened out almost immediately, as if her body had been waiting for permission to shut down.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the crescent pendant still resting in my open palm. I turned it over once, then again. The metal caught the low light from the hallway. I kept touching the smooth curve with my thumb, half convinced the whole night might dissolve if I stopped. Birthdays had always been quiet affairs. A transfer from Father. A few messages from teammates. Nothing that required someone to stand in front of me at midnight with a black box and my name spoken out loud.
Xu’s voice came again, softer and slower, the words half-swallowed by the pillow.
“If you do not like it, you are free to throw it away.”
I closed my fingers around the pendant.
“Not possible,” I said. “I have set my eyes on this one.”
There was a small pause. Then she answered, already drifting.
“I see. I am glad.”
After that there was only the quiet rhythm of her breathing. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
I looked at the date on my phone. Exactly one month had passed since she started the part-time job. Her first paycheck would have arrived in the last few days. She had taken the evening shifts, come home late, and never once complained about the hours. She had timed it almost perfectly. One month of work leading up to today.
I spoke toward her back, keeping my voice low.
“By any chance… did you take that job so you could buy this?”
Xu made a small sound that was not quite a full answer. When she spoke again the words were muffled and stubborn.
“Do not get the wrong idea. They say people should do good deeds when they get their first month salary. This is one of them.”
I let out a quiet breath that was almost a laugh.
“As tsundere as always,” I murmured.
I sat there a while longer, turning the pendant between my fingers. A small, greedy part of me wanted to wake her just enough to ask if she would put it on me. I wanted to feel her hands at the back of my neck, the soft click of the clasp, the weight of the crescent settling against my skin because she had placed it there. I pushed the thought away. It was enough that she had given it. Asking for more tonight would be greedy. Maybe next year. Maybe when things between us were less fragile.
I set the pendant carefully on the nightstand, then reached over and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. She did not stir. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face and let my hand rest there for a second longer than necessary.
“Good night, little Linling,” I whispered, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
She stayed completely still, lost in the deep sleep she had promised.
I picked up the black box and walked out to the living room.
My mother’s photograph sat on the low shelf where it had always been. I placed the empty box in front of it and stood there for a moment in the dark. The pendant remained closed in my other hand, warm now from my skin.
“I think my birthday wish might finally come true,” I told the photograph quietly.
The apartment stayed silent. Behind me, in the bedroom, Xu kept sleeping like a corpse, exactly as she had warned. I closed my fingers around the crescent once more and allowed myself to believe, just for tonight, that the distance between us had become a little shorter.