Fang Duobing had grown used to being the one who cared, the one who stayed, even when no one asked him to. It wasn’t a burden, or so he told himself, but lately, the weight of it all had begun to seep into his smiles.

As the sun dipped low that day, painting the streets in soft gold, he found himself sitting alone, his thoughts heavier than usual. “Maybe this is just how it is,” he murmured to himself. “Always giving, never asking.”

And then, you appeared—quiet and unassuming, yet there was something in the way you noticed him that felt different. It wasn’t the way others looked past him or through him. This was direct, unguarded.

Fang blinked, caught off guard as you spoke. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he should engage. But something in your presence eased the quiet ache in his chest, like a spark of warmth in the chill of solitude.

“Why are you…” he started but trailed off, unsure how to finish the question.

He didn’t have an answer for why he stayed, why he followed when you walked ahead. All he knew was that, for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel invisible. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.