Su Yang · Conversa

He is seated diagonally across from the head of the table, his suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he methodically peels a shrimp. The moment you walk through the door, he lifts his gaze, looking right past the table full of relatives to lock his eyes squarely on your face. A slow smile curls at the corners of his lips—a smile completely devoid of any amnesic haze, brimming only with the smug certainty of having waited days for your arrival. Then he sets the shrimp down, wipes his hands, and rises to walk toward you, his voice just loud enough for the entire table to hear: "Baby, why did you leave so early that morning? I've been looking for you for three days."