Did she wish him a happy birthday? Tom Fritz checked the date on the email. It was sent last year on July 16th, at midnight on his 34th birthday. Midnight. Bubu was the first to wish him a happy birthday.
Tom Fritz couldn’t figure it out. When had he ever told her his birthday? It didn’t seem like he had. He hesitated to continue reading… Over 400 emails spanning seven years, each one carrying her thoughts, each one expressing her affection for him. How deep and intense must that affection be to last so long?
Under the warm yellow light in his spacious and tidy study, the man’s long eyebrows furrowed slightly. His mood plummeted.
He clicked on the profile of the girl with the sunflower avatar and entered the chat box. She had also left him messages, though fewer than the emails, sharing snippets of her daily life. Tom Fritz didn’t find this behavior annoying or consider it harassment because he had interacted with this girl before; she was an excellent and kind child.
He read through her messages one by one, sensing her admiration and affection for him. This was something he had never known.
That night, Agnes had just finished her bath. She wore a cute bunny headband and a face mask, sitting cross-legged in front of her computer. Tonight, she felt something special. She had run into Tom Fritz on the street; he drove her home and even stopped midway to wait for her while she bought milk tea. They returned together to see Bubu. The night felt inexplicably wonderful, and even the wind seemed gentler.
She thought that Mr. Cat, whom she had liked for a long time, must be similar to Professor Fritz: a gentleman, knowledgeable, gentle as jade, and very handsome.
She opened her email again, selected the recipient, and her slender white fingers tapped on the keyboard. A line of text appeared on the screen:
“Mr. Cat, I’ve grown up; I’m already 23 years old. Recently, I turned down two boys who liked me. I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I’m sure that since you entered my heart, there’s no room for anyone else…”
After typing these words, she didn’t send them immediately but read them twice over. Suddenly, she felt a bit sad.
Unrequited love is destined to be a tragedy, isn’t it? So she sorrowfully deleted each word one by one…
The draft page became blank again, and her heart felt as if it were being pricked by needles.
Seven years-what was she still waiting for? For him to appear? For him to reply?
Even if he were still alive and well, how many people still used their social media accounts like before?
Agnes took her hands off the keyboard and hugged her knees while sitting in the chair, staring blankly at the drafts folder. She felt as if she had been dreaming for a long time…
The dream was beautiful but distant and somewhat blurry.
Since she had grown up, it was time to wake up from the dream.
So she forced herself to type again:
“Mr. Cat, you will no longer receive any messages from me. My feelings for you end here. Mr. Cat, I truly loved you, but if I can’t find you or see you or touch you, my love and affection just float in mid-air-it’s a kind of cruelty for me too. Sorry for disturbing you these past seven years. Best wishes.”
She even formally signed off: “Bubu who has loved you for seven years.”
Looking at these lines of text, Agnes felt a sting in her nose and tears welled up in her eyes. Tonight she would say goodbye to her youth.