It seemed that since Ismael was born, Icarus and I have been constantly arguing, cold-warring, day after day.
If it weren't for my memory loss that allowed me to revisit that period, I would still be trapped in the vicious cycle of hating him and abandoning myself.
Four years was a long time. Long enough for a tiny baby to grow into a talking child, carrying a small backpack, shouting "Mom" to me on the street.
Four years was too long. Long enough for Icarus to be worn out, with fine lines at the corners of his eyes, his brows often furrowed, marking the traces of time.
Four years was too long. Long enough for me to even forget the feeling of falling for him at first sight...
I used to mock the lovesick characters in books, trapped in love, unable to escape.
Now that I'm truly in it, I find myself vaguely thinking that all the disappointments, loneliness, pain, and torment are, in fact, a kind of experience.
I went out for a while and sent Icarus a message when I returned.
He rushed over and saw the big bouquet of roses I was holding.
— Just like how I pursued him when I was young.
His eyes filled with tears.
After all the twists and turns, we've made our life come full circle—what it was like when we first met, is what it is now.
I walked toward him:
"Actually, these past few days, I've been thinking. If I hadn't met you, if I had married someone else, how would my life be now?"
"But I realized I can't imagine it."
"Whenever I think about the size of the bed, the color of the curtains, the daily chores, I instinctively think of you. I can't change it."
"Even those painful memories with you, I feel they are a part of the experience. Life can't always be smooth and uneventful, it'd be so boring, don't you think?"
I placed the roses gently against my chest, looking at him with soft, hopeful eyes:
"Icarus, let's live well together from now on, okay?"
He immediately embraced me, trembling with excitement, his voice hoarse:
"Lavinia, you know, I love you, so much, don't leave me again, don't even think about it... if you mention separation again, I'll really go crazy."
I rested my chin on his shoulder, apologetically telling him:
"I'm sorry, I won't anymore."
And also, "I love you too."
---
On the day I graduated with my PhD, Icarus was also there, bringing Ismael, who was already in elementary school.
He donated a building and, on top of that, took Ismael and me along to take a picture with my supervisor.
We walked hand in hand through the campus again, looking at the swaying shadows of the trees, and I couldn't help but softly sigh.
"Ten years, Icarus."
"Yeah!"
He said lazily, "That year, you ran out of the building, your eyes always following me, and I thought to myself, you're definitely going to chase me."
"Turns out, you really did catch me."
I blinked and suddenly remembered something, so I asked him:
"A few days ago, I was going through my contacts and saw that, in high school, you had drawn a sun next to my name."
I shook his hand: "So, did you like me back then?"
"Couldn't really say 'like.'"
He softly replied, "It was just that you were so special, always full of energy and passion, like you could never get tired."
"You really did seem like a little sun."
I scratched the palm of his hand.
Icarus had bought me a hot-dog.
I found them too greasy and only took one bite, leaving the rest for him.
He smiled indulgently, continued holding my hand, and we wandered leisurely, walking in the scorching afternoon sun.
After a while, he told me:
"You know, when I first saw you under the building, I just knew you'd end up with me."
"Back then, I was also love at first sight for you."
