Chapter 16: I knew

Xinyi:

I was getting ready to meet someone—someone surprising, someone from a chapter of my life I had long folded and tucked away, like an old photograph buried in the back of a drawer I had no courage to open. He said he would tell me everything. That I just needed to show up. That after all these years, he had answers.

I stood before the mirror, smoothing my coat sleeves, trying not to let my hands tremble. My mind was restless, my heart louder than it should've been. I was going to meet him. My childhood… friend? My shadowed memory. Someone who once lived in the same cracked walls of that orphanage. Someone who had witnessed the same pain, and possibly—just possibly—held the truth I was aching for.

There was a knock on the door.

Mama's gentle voice followed, as always a melody of warmth. "Should brother drop you by?"

I shook my head with a soft smile, trying not to reveal the unease curling in my stomach. "It's okay, Mama, I'll go by myself."

She stepped forward, her hands still smelling like the jasmine oil she used for her tea, and leaned in to kiss my forehead gently. Her lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, as though she could sense something I wasn't saying.

"Alright," she whispered, brushing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. "Be back soon… Baba wants to tell you something."

I nodded slowly, heart quietly pounding behind my ribs.

"I'll get going."

"Take care on the way," she said, her eyes still watching me carefully.

"Hǎo, māma," I murmured, slipping on my shoes.

"Hǎo, zàijiàn," she replied, waving her goodbye with that familiar softness in her eyes.

I smiled faintly, waving back—and then I was outside, stepping into the cold breath of the city.

The wind curled around my coat like a whisper, reminding me of too many things at once. I raised my hand, stopping a passing cab, and gave him the address. I clutched my bag tight to my chest as the city blurred by outside the window—buildings, faces, neon signs and headlights, all rushing past me like time itself.

And then… we arrived.

The car pulled to a gentle stop in front of a small, quiet café tucked between two buildings. I paid the driver, thanking him softly, and stepped out. The air was cool. The scent of roasted beans drifted through the glass doors like a memory.

I walked in.

The bell above the door gave a soft chime and my eyes instantly found him. He was already there.

Yuri.

His name left my lips barely above a whisper, but it felt so loud inside my chest.

He looked up.

And for a second… everything around us disappeared.

He wasn't twelve anymore. Neither was I. We weren't those scared, lonely kids sitting on a broken bench in the orphanage yard anymore.

But his eyes—they were the same.

They remembered me.

Yuri looked up, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips—the kind of smile that made you forget the weight of time, the years that had slipped like sand between fingers too small to hold it all in.

He gestured for me to come closer, and I nodded, walking toward him with a nervous flutter in my chest, like something fragile was about to awaken. I sat across from him, my palms warm against the wooden table.

"I missed you, Danna," he said, his voice holding more excitement than mine could carry, but it didn't feel out of place. It felt familiar. Like a distant summer.

I let out a soft laugh, more from emotion than humor. "Me too. I missed you… so much."

He had grown—an adult now, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, posture slightly straighter than the boy I remembered, voice deeper but still holding that same softness it used to.

"How's everything been? Your life, I mean…" he asked, eyes warm but searching, as though looking for cracks I didn't want to show.

"It's good," I replied, smiling faintly. "Really good, actually."

"And yours?" I asked.

He nodded with a small grin. "Better than that orphan life, I'll say that."

I chuckled softly, though something about it all felt strange—a little too delicate. There was a distance between us, like two people trying to remember how to swim in water they once drowned in.

"You got adopted here too," I said, trying to ease the silence. "And you're a photographer now, just like me… That's kind of crazy."

He smiled at that, just as the waiter came to our table. We ordered—simple drinks, nothing heavy. I wasn't sure I could even hold a cup properly. My hands had started to tremble beneath the table.

Then, just when I thought we'd talk about lighter things, he said it.

"The orphanage had so many memories… I wish it wasn't burned down."

I froze. My breath hitched in my chest as I slowly turned to look at him.

"...What burned down?"

He tilted his head, brows slightly furrowed. "You don't know?"

I shook my head slowly, feeling something tighten in my chest, like invisible fingers squeezing my ribs.

He pulled out his phone, fingers swiping with ease, and turned the screen toward me. My eyes locked on the image—the black-and-white remains of something that once held my entire childhood. Ashes. Charred bricks. Twisted metal. Nothing left but ghosts and soot.

'The orphanage was burned down. All wards were rescued. Only the building suffered. Authorities still unclear on cause of fire.'

That was the headline.

I stared.

"Who…?" My voice broke before I could finish. My gaze snapped up to Yuri. "Who did this?"

He sighed softly, adjusting his glasses, looking around as if to make sure no one was listening. "I suspect… it was Dante."

My entire body went still. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. The name rolled off his tongue like thunder in a quiet room. Dante.

"Why?" I whispered, the word barely audible.

"Because… the night he escaped, he told me he'd come back for me. That he'd save all of us," Yuri said, tone lower now, more serious.

My mind replayed the last time I saw Dante. The way his eyes had looked at me. The way I'd walked away. The sound of his voice when he said Don't forget me. The kiss on the cheek. The silent goodbye.

"He escaped?"

Yuri nodded. "He and Jake. They left the night we turned fifteen, and they were sixteen. Dante said no one would protect them anymore, that staying would only break them more. And Jake… he trusted Dante blindly. They both did it. They escaped. I helped them, Danna. I helped them sneak out through the back kitchen window."

I couldn't breathe.

"They promised to come back for us, to save the others. And they did. After two months, two men came. They pulled all the kids out. But I didn't see Dante or Jake. I asked, but nobody answered. Then, just as we were being taken away… one man, I don't know who, he set the whole place on fire."

I gasped quietly. "And you… watched?"

"We all did. In silence. The building burned and no one said a word. Maybe it was revenge. Maybe it was pain. Maybe it was both."

Yuri sighed, gently picking up the coffee the waiter had placed a few minutes ago. He took a slow sip like nothing he said had just shattered me.

"I was sent to another orphanage. Better. Quieter. I got adopted not long after. Good fortune, I guess…"

I couldn't move. Couldn't even feel the cup in my hands. My fingers had gone numb.

Dante… you burned it down? You kept your promise? You left but you still thought of me? You came back. And I wasn't there.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away.

Were they even alive now? Jake? Dante? Did the world swallow them whole the way the fire had consumed that building?

I stared down at the image on Yuri's phone one more time—ash and bone of a memory I couldn't unsee—and whispered so softly, he didn't even hear it:

I'm sorry, Dante. I should've waited. I should've come for you too.

I held back the tears stubbornly clinging to the corners of my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek just to stay composed. The café's soft jazz music now sounded miles away as I lifted my head and asked the one question that had been clawing at my throat for years.

"Do you have any idea where Dante or Jake are now?"

Yuri's face dropped slightly, and his eyes softened with regret. He shook his head slowly, fingers tightening around the cup. "I never saw them again after that night," he said quietly, and I nodded, looking down at my hands, trying not to let them tremble.

Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and I instinctively looked up, watching as he answered.

"Yes, babe, I'm on my way… just met that friend I mentioned… Sure, yes, okay, love you."

The words hit somewhere strange inside me, a reminder of how far everyone had come, how much had changed.

He hung up and turned back to me, his tone lighter now. "Danna, take my number. Let's keep in contact, okay?"

I nodded and handed him my phone with a quiet smile, watching as he typed in his name. "I'll go now—see you around."

"Bye…" I murmured softly, watching his figure disappear out the door like another chapter closed too fast.

I sat there a moment longer, the untouched remnants of my drink cooling before me, then stood up, collected my things, and quietly made my way out. The taxi ride home felt longer than usual. My throat burned—not from the coffee, not from the chill in the air, but from that one sentence replaying over and over again like a haunting lullaby:

No one's gonna protect us now.

As the cab rolled up to my house, I blinked away the rising tears and muttered, "Wǒ zàijiā…" softly, more to myself than anyone else, as I stepped out and removed my shoes by the door.

No answer came.

I stepped in, confused by the silence until I turned the corner and saw them—Mama, Baba, Gege, Xingqi—and someone else. Someone I knew.

Kai.

My breath hitched for a moment, not from fear, but from sheer surprise. Why was he here?

Mama stood immediately and gently grabbed my arm, her grip warm but firm. "Lái, lái, lái," she said, her voice unusually bright as she led me to the couch. I barely had time to breathe before she gently pushed me down onto the cushions beside her.

"Greet him," she said, smiling as if the situation were the most normal thing in the world. "He's Wang Kai."

I froze for a moment, looking up at him—his posture poised, eyes unreadable, and expression cool, like always. My tongue felt heavy in my mouth, but Mama's elbow nudged me gently and I forced the words out.

"Oh… Nǐ hǎo."

Kai's lips didn't twitch into a smile, nor did he give the usual polite nod. Instead, he simply said, "I know her."

Mama blinked, her brows furrowed slightly in confusion, while Baba leaned forward curiously.

"I'm aware you met in Zhejiang University," Baba said, his tone neutral but interested.

Kai gave a short nod, never taking his eyes off me. "I'm actually her senior. And… I teach her as well."

I nodded, my gaze lowering instinctively under his quiet intensity, and Baba glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

"Well, that's good then," he said at last, folding his hands. "It's nice to see you've formed some acquaintance."

I forced a small smile, unsure what to say, unsure why he was even here, and even more unsure of the look Kai was giving me.

Something felt off. This wasn't a casual visit. There was something in his gaze—like he knew more than he let on.

Kai's gaze was burning into me like a silent confession, and the longer it lingered, the more unsettled I felt. His expression was unreadable—cool, steady, as if he already knew what he was about to say would change everything. I fidgeted slightly, a million assumptions rushing through my mind. He had probably told Baba I was clumsy, too distracted to focus properly in photography class, that I wasn't taking university seriously enough. Great. Now he'd think I was some useless, dreamy-headed girl chasing cameras like butterflies.

But then his words dropped, sharp and sudden.

"I like your daughter. She's hardworking."

My eyes snapped up, stunned. Had I heard him right? I blinked rapidly, unsure if my ears were deceiving me.

Baba laughed, the sound deep and proud. "Hǎo, hǎo—that's a good thing," he said, nodding approvingly. I glanced between the two of them, completely lost in the conversation, like I had walked into the middle of a scene that wasn't written for me.

And then it happened. The sentence that slammed into my chest like a wrecking ball.

"Fine. I'll marry her."

My heart dropped.

The floor beneath me might as well have vanished. I froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted as if the words couldn't make it out. Marry me? I wasn't even breathing. It couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real.

"What?" I said, the word slipping out before I could catch it.

Dad shot me a glance that was a mix of warning and finality. "We'll talk about it later," he said. And just like that, it was dismissed. Like my life wasn't even mine to argue for.

"Go inside, kids," Baba added, already turning back to Kai. "Kai and I need to talk for a bit."

Gege's voice broke the silence, calling out to us gently. We obeyed—what else could we do? But my legs were numb. My thoughts were in shambles. I walked as if through water, heavy and slow, my pulse pounding in my ears louder than any voice.

"Jiějie…" Xingqi said softly beside me, her small hand brushing mine, but I couldn't even look at her. My mind was swirling. Burning. Shaking.

What just happened?

We stopped in the hallway, and Gege turned to face me. His hands gently gripped my shoulders like he was trying to anchor me, keep me from falling apart. He stared into my face with a softness only a brother could offer.

"I told them," he began, voice low and calm. "You don't have to marry him if you don't want to. I'll talk to Mama and Baba. I'll make them understand."

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words caught in my throat like thorns. I was hurting. Not just on the outside but deep inside, where old wounds hadn't yet healed.

"Xinyi," Gege continued, "you don't love him. You don't even really know him. Besides, you already love…"

I shook my head quickly before he could say the name. He nodded, understanding, but didn't say more. He didn't have to.

Then came the final blow—the truth I hadn't been prepared for.

"It's just… Baba made a promise," Gege said slowly. "To his old friend. The one who saved his life. He promised that one of his daughters would marry into their family if the time ever came. And now… it came."

My body stiffened. A promise? My future… was a favor?

"You're the oldest, so…" he trailed off, guilt flashing in his eyes.

I felt the air being ripped from my lungs.

"But I'm eighteen," I whispered. It was all I could say. The only argument I could summon.

Gege looked down for a moment before answering, "The Wang family always said they wanted a young daughter to enter their home. They… they think you're perfect."

Perfect? For what? To be displayed like a trophy? To be caged?

I lowered my gaze, trying to blink back the tears stinging my eyes.

And in the back of my mind, like a whisper from another lifetime, I heard the faint echo of a promise.

"Don't forget me… me, Danna… please."

I haven't, Dante. I never have.