The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate

Sophia made her way the riverside.

It was evening, a twhen the riverside park thrummed with life.

Beyond the students engrossed in their games, the park was brimming with parents walking their young ones, elders, youths, and

couples out for a jog.

During the two years since marrying Brandon, she would often find solace here, sometimes sitting contemplatively beneath the

setting sun for an entire afternoon. Occasionally, she would sketch quietly; more often, she lost herself to daydreams.

Under the sunset, she'd gaze the throngs of students heading home, their youthful faces a mirror to her own high school days,

stirring memories of her own adolescence.

On the days when her mood was somber, she loved being here alone, to walk or to sit.

Not once had Brandon joined her on these introspective escapades.

His life was a whirlwind of work, leaving little room for the leisurely pace of strolling and daydreaming.

But back then, her days were so idyllically slow that she could only savor the sweetness of life through such memories.

The warmth and bliss of senior year when she first met Brandon were so overwhelming, and so she would often find herself smiling

at the lively students passing by, as if reclaiming piece by piece the carefree days she had spent with him.

Sitting quietly, recalling the past against the backdrop of sunset, was sublime—especially when her love was right by her side.

But one can't live on memories alone.

Since the divorce, she hadn't set foot here again.

It had been a while since she'd been back in the West district. If it wasn't for Brandon bringing her here today, the memory of this

place might have faded entirely.

Sophia felt a pang of something.

Leaning against the railing, she watched the sun dipping slowly beneath the horizon. Her mind was at peace yet tinged with a

subtle wistfulness.

The sunset hadn't changed, and neither had the red roofs of the old school buildings, though they showed signs of age.

The students cycling past still wore the suniforms reminiscent of her own school days, but their bikes had changed from old

styles to flashy yellow and green ones. Gradually, the electric scooters were replacing bicycles, and the chorus of bike bells along

the riverside was slowly being overrun by the honks of passing cars.

Everything seemed the same, yet everything was slowly changing.

Sophia exhaled deeply, resting against the railing. As she turned around and raised her gaze, it caught on a large bouquet of

dazzling roses. She froze before slowly traveling up to meet the eyes of Brandon, who held the flowers.

Brandon shot her a small smile and handed over the flowers to her: "Happy end-of-workday."

Sophia was lost for words.

"Do we need to celebrate that?" she asked.

"Well then," Brandon pondered, "Happy Wednesday?"

He racked his brain but couldn't think of any special reason for today.

It wasn't a holiday, nobody's birthday, and it didn't commemorate any anniversaries or milestones—the day was just an ordinary

Wednesday.

Sophia couldn't help but smile back at him: "Thanks."

Then she reached out to take the roses he offered.

The flowers were stunning and fresh—a radiant burst of red, each bloom dewy and delicate.

Brandon wasn't a man of ceremony or romance. His world had no holidays, and neither did hers.

They had never done the flower-giving thing before.

She had given gifts to Brandon, but his thoughts were not on her. He had never really prepared any presents for her; he just gave

her bank cards, and not just for special occasions—his card was always at her disposal.

Valentine's Day, birthdays, anniversaries—those days didn't exist for Brandon.

But for his birthdays, Sophia would pick out gifts for him way in advance, carefully preparing dinner to celebrate, even though

Brandon, always so busy, would often forget his own birthday.

The first year, Sophia couldn't wait for him to chand would call to remind him of his birthday. Then, Brandon, apologetic,

would promptly end his work to return hand spend a belated birthday with her, which might lead to a period of guilt-driven

punctuality. However, busyness would eventually overwhelm him, and he would drift back into his work, forgetting the rituals of

coming home.

The second year, Sophia had grown accustomed to his habits and wouldn't remind him. She would simply wait for him to return.

When Brandon got hto her birthday preparations, he'd be just as apologetic and would try spending twith her, but his

passion for work would always take precedence.

She might have felt a twinge of sadness, she didn't take it to heart; after all, Brandon's world was like a distant, pristine summit, so

far removed from the everyday. Ordinary couple things seemed childishly out of place with him, and she paid them no mind.

Nevertheless, with Brandon suddenly giving her flowers now, Sophia was touched.

It was hard to pin down the feeling—she had a small, unexpected thrill of delight.

Brandon saw the sparkle of surprise in her eyes, the streetlights scattering like stars in her gaze, with a hint of tears shimmering.

He stepped closer, arms spread wide, and embraced her gently—A hug filled with apology and tenderness, for two years of

neglect.

She had been too quiet, too well-behaved—calm as a shadow behind him, never causing a fuss—so much so that he had taken for

granted she shared his indifference to ceremony.

Brandon's hug sent a wave of emotion through Sophia. Her nose tinged, her eyes moistened—not from resentment or regret, but

with a feeling of something long-awaited was finally fulfilled.

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