"Yasmine, the lemon tree leaves are turning yellow, what should I do?"
...
I hadn't checked my phone for just one afternoon, yet Chandler had sent me a flurry of messages - more than we had exchanged in all our years together.
I'm always the one initiating conversations. When happy, he might reply with a "hmm", but otherwise, he ignores me.
When did his personality change?
Reluctantly, I headed home only after the library closed.
As soon as I turned on the light, I saw Chandler sitting dazed on the sofa, holding his phone.
"Where are you? I'll come pick you up."
He repeated the message I had just received.
"I was researching and lost track of time. Why aren't you in bed yet?"
I asked, taking off my coat to freshen up in the bathroom.
Leaning against the door, he looked at me with a complicated, unreadable expression.
"Yasmine, I've already apologized for the accident. Regarding today's cake, I'll be more mindful going forward. If you have other concerns, let's sit down and talk them out."
"Relationships thrive on communication, and a cold war won't solve anything."
It dawned on me that he understood effort was needed, yet stubbornly chose a cold war to force my compromise.
I dried my hands, scrutinizing him carefully.
"Chandler, check your phone and see how many times you've actually responded to me."
He turned away embarrassed, then stubbornly asked after a while...
"Is this about Lily? I can explain."
"No, I don't care anymore. Besides, you and she are childhood sweethearts and senior siblings. It's only right you take care of her."
Not wanting to argue further, I gestured toward the withered lemon tree on the balcony.
"It's already dead. There's no saving it. Besides, the lemons were bitter and astringent, not worth keeping."
That lemon tree was like my love.
Once it tried producing many thin-skinned, watery lemons. I soaked and gave them to Chandler.
He was eating oranges fed by Lily, with a look of disgust.
"It's sour and bitter, so unpalatable!"
During my surgery hospital stay, Chandler neglected it.
So it quietly died.
Chandler pursed his lips, guilt flashing in his eyes.
"This weekend is my last tour stop, here in our city. Want to come? I'll get a VIP seat."
I organized study materials from last night.
Hearing this, I didn't look up at him.
"Perhaps it's better if I don't go."