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Every evening at dinner, Zhou Kai returned home, and they sat at the same dining table, the atmosphere so cold it made one shiver. Lin Jin tried hard to find topics to ease the tension, bringing up amusing stories from work or trivial matters about their neighbors, but Zhou Kai's responses were always brief and indifferent. Occasionally, he would lower his head to stare at his phone, completely ignoring her. Lin Jin's gaze fell on Zhou Kai's profile; seeing his expressionless face stirred an indescribable ache and loneliness within her. She knew all too well that the distance between them had become an insurmountable chasm, and her every effort seemed to dissipate into thin air, utterly futile.
At night, as they lay in the same bed, the silence between them felt like an unbridgeable wall. Lin Jin lay on her side, watching the faint moonlight spill onto the curtains outside, feeling an unprecedented sense of alienation. She often wanted to reach out and touch Zhou Kai, hoping to reclaim even a hint of the warmth they once shared, but her hand ultimately hovered in mid-air before gently retreating. She could no longer offer Zhou Kai a genuine smile or share the little moments of life with him. Whenever he drew near, that instinctive aversion felt like a thick wall, blocking all connection between them.
This silence and distance were like a silent torment, gradually eroding her inner self until only endless numbness and self-deception remained. She continued to play the role of a good wife, waking early to prepare breakfast for Zhou Kai, cleaning the house, and organizing clothes. Yet behind each action lay a sense of lost meaning, reduced to mechanical repetition. As she watched her reflection in the kitchen while stirring the soup in the pot, everything felt like a dream from which she could never awaken—a suffocating nightmare.
In the counseling room, Lin Jin met Zhang Xiaohui, a woman on the brink of collapse due to a broken marriage. Zhang Xiaohui's eyes were filled with despair and pain; her expression of hopelessness for the future deeply moved Lin Jin. She saw her own reflection in this woman—someone who had lost direction and hope within her marriage, a wife yearning for love yet forced to endure in silence.
Zhang Xiaohui's face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying; her hands trembled as they clutched together tightly. Her voice was choked with emotion as she said intermittently, "He no longer loves me; he always finds me annoying and bothersome... I just want him to spend more time with me, but he can't even do that." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she seemed to lose all support.
Lin Jin sat across from Zhang Xiaohui and gently handed her a tissue, speaking softly, "Xiaohui, you must believe that you are worthy of love. Right now you feel lonely and in pain, but this is not your fault; you have every right to pursue your own happiness." She tried to keep her tone steady while emotions surged within her like crashing waves.
Zhang Xiaohui took the tissue through her sobs and whispered, "But I really feel like I can't hold on anymore... I think about why he has changed every day. What did I do wrong?"
Seeing Zhang Xiaohui's helplessness evoked deep sympathy in Lin Jin; she fought back tears of her own and managed to offer a comforting smile. "You haven't done anything wrong; this is not your responsibility. There are many things in marriage that we cannot control, but we can choose how we face these challenges."
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