The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate

Brandon went over to the store in his ride. He had smemories of this place.

Back when Sophia had just returned from a business trip, he and she took Theresa to the park. He took Theresa to play on the

park's equipment while Sophia took a call below. After hanging up, she bee-lined it to this craft store.

Then, when she caught Marian cornering him in the parking garage, she split without a peep and headed straight for the same

spot.

Only, when he later showed up, he didn't bump into her.

Now, back at this quiet little store on the bustling street corner, he looked up at the dim yellow streetlight hanging by the door. But

when he looked up, that familiar, quiet figure was nowhere to be seen in the alley's corner. A familiar lump rose in his throat, tinged

with a faint, bittersweet taste.

Brandon swallowed it down, sitting in the car, staring at the artsy little store under the dim streetlight, not making a move.

It was the shop clerk who spotted him first. But she wasn't sure if he was the sguy Sophia had called earlier, so after

hesitating for ages, she finally picked up her phone and called Brandon again.

Brandon, as usual, reflexively grabbed his phone, but the spark in his eyes fizzled out as soon as he recognized the familiar

number. He didn't pick up, but he pushed open the car door and walked towards the shop.

The pretty clerk noticed his buzzing phone and looked at him uncertainly, "Hi, are you Mr. Brandon Crawley?"

"That's me," Brandon replied coolly, already standing at the counter.

The clerk was relieved and apologized, "Sorry to bother you, truly. Ms. Yearwood DlYed a gift here last week, was supposed to pick

it up last weekend, but she never showed. We couldn't reach her by phone, so we had no choice but to use the backup number she

left to ask you to pick it up."

Brandon glanced at her and nodded slightly, "No worries, just give it to me."

"Alright." The clerk said, pulling out a key and handing it to Brandon, pointing to a storage unit in the corner, "It's in the third

compartment of the vertical row on the right."

Brandon looked back at the storage and nodded, "Thanks."

With a hoarse voice, he said thanks and walked over to the storage.

The shop owner, who was tidying up the empty compartments, remembered Sophia well. She had been there to help Sophia make

a bracelet, and Sophia, with her beauty, good temper, and charm, had left a strong impression, especially since she hadn't been

reachable since that day and no one had cto pick up her stuff. The owner had grown a bit concerned.

Now, seeing someone finally coming to pick it up on her behalf, she couldn't help but smile and say hi; then she asked Brandon

with a smile, "You must be Ms. Yearwood's significant other, right?"

Brandon glanced at her, not saying a word.

The owner felt somewhat awkward and tried to change the subject, "We've been unable to reach Ms. Yearwood these past few

days; she must be busy."

As she finished, she saw Brandon pause, his Adam's apple bobbing, and though he didn't speak, she could vaguely make out a

trace of sorrow in his eyes. She wasn't sure and when she tried to take a closer look, Brandon had already lowered his eyelids,

inserting the key in the lock, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

The owner didn't dare to continue, but she couldn't help but worry and exchanged a glance with the pretty clerk, both speculating

about Sophia's absence and the lack of contact, feeling a surge of bad guesses but not daring to ask more.

Brandon opened Sophia's gift compartment, and there in the quiet, enclosed little space, he found a hand-knitted men's scarf and

a men's sweater necklace.

Brandon stared at the two gifts for a moment, then slowly reached for the sweater necklace and took it out. Inside the metal

pendant, he saw a mini version of the white jade necklace, identical to the one on his hand, the jade firmly embedded inside.

Brandon stared at that necklace, somewhat dazed.

The owner, seeing him still, pointed to the metal tag behind the pendant and said, "There's a QR code on the back of the tag. Scan

it and there will be a message and blessing from the giver to the receiver."

As if worried Brandon might have hesitation, she added, "We only keep the recipient's phone numbers as per our store policy, in

case we can't reach the person and don't know how to handle the DIY craft. Mr. Crawley, you can also take the craft home, and

wait for Ms. Yearwood to open it when she's back. I'm sure Ms. Yearwood would love to see the surprise on your face when you

receive the gift."

Brandon glanced at her, a forced twitch at the corner of his mouth, "Thanks."

His demeanor was far from eager, even harboring a deep, indescribable sadness. The owner didn't know what to make of it, just

felt Brandon was strange.

It wasn't the first tsomeone couldn't pick up a gift in person, or someone wanted to surprise the recipient by arranging for

them to pick it up. No matter the reason, the people who calways had surprise and joy on their faces, eagerly calling the

giver, but not Brandon. He had no such excitement, nor did he call Sophia.

He took Sophia's handmade gift, said thanks, and left.

The owner and the pretty clerk watched Brandon's retreating figure, the tall silhouette under the winter night sky strangely solitary

and bleak. They exchanged glances but couldn't intrude.

For them, the successful collection of the gift marked the end of their involvement. Whatever story lay behind was beyond their

curiosity.

Back in his car, Brandon held the men's scarf and the sweater necklace. He stared at the QR code on the necklace tag for a long

while, then picked up his phone and scanned it.

The phone quickly redirected to a simple and elegant webpage, with a few yellow roses and camellia flowers as decoration.

Brandon looked at the yellow roses and camellias, momentarily lost. Yellow roses signified an apology, a "sorry" for love, while

camellias meant "let's make up".

There was a letter on the page, one that Sophia wrote to him, marked "to Brandon".

Brandon's eyes were glued to those words, silent for a solid minute before his shaky fingers finally clicked open the letter.

But it was practically empty, just a few short words:

"Brandon, let's..."

It looked like the page had ssort of auto-memory feature because right after "lets", the cursor popped up with "make up" but

then it got auto-deleted, along with the "let's" before it. The text on the page changed to "Brandon, I'm sorry." But that too was

quickly erased by the cursor, morphing into "Brandon, Happy Birthday!" And that was swiftly deleted as well.

He could tell from the words that kept getting axed that Sophia was still on the fence about what to write. The page wasn't saved -

clearly, it was still a work in progress.

Brandon watched the words on the page keep changing, a lump forming in his throat. His gaze slowly moved up from the cursor's

relentless edits, landing on the top right corner where the drafts icon indicated there was a draft message inside.

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMwWLHIOfiflO&1

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMyWL11I01F1081

mMMwWLIIOfiflO&1