Chapter 2 — The Seat Not Meant for Me

I waited quietly in the dormitory for an entire day, from early morning until dusk, from the breaking of dawn to the creeping shadows of night, yet I still could not wait for Dawn to come find me. In previous years, on every single birthday, he would immediately run over and call me downstairs to celebrate together. Even if it was merely going through the motions. But today, there was not a single word from him, nor did he make an appearance. Unease gradually took root in my heart, a vague premonition whispering that something was deeply amiss. Even if they had not come to the university, they should have at least sent Dawn to fetch me; it was hardly reasonable to leave me entirely alone in the dormitory. Hesitating for a long time, forcing down the heavy disappointment weighing on my chest, I finally stood up and walked over to Dawn's dormitory. His roommate happened to see me passing by and casually tossed out a remark.

Are you looking for little Dawn? He is not in the room, he went over to the stadium area. It seems his family came to throw him a birthday celebration, they decorated the whole place, it looks gorgeous.

My heart suddenly plummeted, my footsteps instinctively quickening as I hurried toward the stadium. The evening wind carried a chill, blowing with a biting cold that seeped straight into the soul. From a distance, familiar figures came into view. Father, Mother, and elder brother Crane were all there. They surrounded Dawn, holding a delicate two-tier cream cake. A circle of warm golden candles was arranged in the corner of the athletic field, their flickering points of light casting a glow that was both tender and lively. They were earnestly and wholeheartedly celebrating a birthday for Dawn alone. They had completely forgotten about me. The very last remnants of reluctance and lingering hope within my chest sustained me as I took each step forward. I gazed at their bustling, warm scene, watching the family of four enjoying their harmonious joy beneath the candlelight, and asked softly, my voice carrying an uncontrollable tremor.

Today is my birthday too, why did everyone forget?

The lively atmosphere instantly froze, all laughter and chatter abruptly ceasing. My brother raised his head to look at me, his face devoid of even a shred of guilt.

It was your phone that kept being turned off, and you never replied to any of our messages, so how can you blame us? Dawn clearly sent you a text message, and it was your own fault for not reading it and not coming, so you cannot blame us for this.

Dawn has already made his birthday wish. As for your wishes, wait until next year to speak of them.

Instinctively, I raised my hand, brushing against the silent, dormant old phone resting in my pocket. In this exact fraction of a second, I completely understood the origin of every single misunderstanding. They had no idea that the phone was completely broken. And so, they could comfortably ignore my birthday, comfortably celebrate only for Dawn, and comfortably shift all the blame onto my shoulders. They had never once doubted themselves. Nor had they ever stopped to consider whether the old handset they had casually shoved into my hands was even capable of functioning. They only believed in their own assumptions, stubbornly deciding that I was merely being willful, ungrateful, and harboring resentment against the family. It turned out that in their eyes, every single fault would eternally be my own. I looked at the warm, complete family right before my eyes, looked at Dawn surrounded by everyone like the bright moon among a myriad of stars, his sweet face radiant, and the last vestiges of longing, anticipation, and familial attachment in my heart shattered into dust. I did not continue to argue, nor did I cry and make a scene, and certainly did not stoop to pitifully begging for a scrap of tenderness. I merely turned around in silence, walking step by step back toward my cold, pitch-black dormitory room.

A full month had passed since the start of the semester. Following the conclusion of military training, classes officially settled into a regular routine. My roommates were all exceptionally kind, gentle, and mild-mannered souls who treated everyone with absolute sincerity. Noticing that I still lacked a phone, which made daily communication immensely inconvenient, they generously took the initiative to lend me an old smartphone they no longer used. Although this device lacked a SIM card and could not make or receive traditional calls, it could connect to the campus Wi-Fi network, allowing me to log into WeChat and receive messages. After an entire month, the moment I finally logged back into the long-abandoned messaging interface, a massive flood of messages and missed calls materialized densely before my eyes. Notification piled upon notification, completely burying the entire chat interface and stretching across an entire month of time. I stared at the relentless stream of accusations, complaints, and criticisms covering the screen, and it was only at this very moment that I truly understood the root cause of every misunderstanding. From the very beginning to the very end, they had no clue whatsoever that the old phone they had tossed to me was utterly broken and incapable of booting up. They had merely rummaged through the house, casually grabbing a discarded, idle handset and shoving it into my hands simply to hurry me away, blindly assuming the device was still intact, capable of powering on, and fit for normal communication. And thus, throughout this entire past month, from their perspective, they remained entirely oblivious. They did not know I had been soaked by the rain and injured in a fall on my way to school, forced to struggle through enrollment procedures entirely on my own. They did not know that for an entire month, I possessed zero means of communication, completely isolated from the outside world. They did not know how many countless nights I spent consumed by anxiety and unease, bearing all my helplessness and grievance in absolute solitude.