He was the son of my late friend. I’m no saint. I only took him in because he looked pitiful, deciding to feed him and raise him on a whim. I never expected that the little “stray dog,” once all grown up, would turn into a “wolf.” A “wolf” with his sights set entirely on me. 1. I attended a friend’s funeral, but I ended up bringing her son home. I had intended to leave right after the burial service, but I paused by a tree, watching the boy surrounded by a crowd of people. I listened for a while. Those people were definitely scheming, trying to get their hands on the house and the money. They made a big show of saying they would raise him until he was an adult, their tone implying they were doing him a massive favor. But they clearly had no intention of giving him a single cent of his mother’s inheritance. I turned to look at the photo of the gentle woman smiling on the headstone and thought with a scoff: “You soft-hearted fool. I told you your relatives couldn’t be trusted, but you wouldn’t listen! Now they’re bullying your orphaned son.” But I didn’t plan on stepping in to help him. I owed his mother a favor, not him. I’m no saint. I was just curious to see what he would do. Would he cry and beg that pack of wolves? But he just stood there, his head bowed, without saying a word. Boring. I dusted off my hands, ready to go home. Suddenly, he raised his head and looked straight at me. His eyes were red, filled with a ragged, defensive stubbornness. In that moment, it was as if I saw my younger self from years ago—just like that, like a stray dog ready to bite. We locked eyes. Neither of us looked away. “Hey, want to come live with me?” I raised an eyebrow and smiled at him. The group of aggressive relatives finally noticed me standing there. A flash of awkwardness crossed their faces, followed immediately by anger. “This is family business!” I ignored them, swaying my hips as I walked up to the boy, dropping my smile. “I was a friend of your mother’s. I owe her a favor, so I can take you in, but…” I swept my gaze over the rest of the people there, enunciating every word clearly: “If they steal your inheritance, once you’re older and have the means, you’ll have to get it back yourself. I won’t help you.” It was as if I had ripped off their masks. The crowd started yelling, accusing me of talking nonsense. I just kept my eyes on the boy. “Of course, you can choose to go with them. It’s your choice.” In the end, he came home with me. After settling him into the guest room, a wave of discomfort washed over me—the feeling of a stranger invading my personal space. I shouldn’t have brought him back. Feeling a bit irritated, I retreated to my home office, using my design sketches to calm my nerves. 2. The next day, I was woken up by text messages from a client. I had finished revising the designs last night and sent them straight over. This was the first job I had taken since starting my own design studio. I say “studio,” but it was really just me and my best friend, Harper. The client was notoriously difficult to please—the kind who asks for “a vibrant shade of black.” Thankfully, they were finally satisfied with last night’s revisions. Rubbing my stiff neck, I walked out of the office. I caught a glimpse of a silent figure sitting at the dining table and nearly jumped out of my skin. I was genuinely annoyed. “Why are you just sitting there without making a sound!” He froze for a second, as if startled by my sudden morning crankiness. Then, trying to act calm, he pushed a piece of paper across the table toward me. “I apologize. I’ll be more mindful in the future. I drafted this agreement. You can take a look.” Utterly confused, I walked over, sat across from him, picked it up, and almost laughed out loud. Party A: [Left Blank] Party B: Liam. The gist of the agreement was that Party B would borrow funds for all living expenses while staying at Party A’s house, as well as high school tuition. The total amount, plus interest, would be repaid in full one year after Party B graduated from college. I peeked at him over the top of the paper, feeling a sudden urge to tease him. “How are you so sure you can pay it all back one year after college? Raising a kid is expensive nowadays. Also, why does it only cover high school? Don’t I have to pay for your college tuition and living expenses too?” Liam’s face turned red, and he stammered slightly, “I-I can add a clause to the agreement. If I don’t pay it back on time, the interest doubles.” He then hastily tried to explain, “I will definitely pay you back, I promise. My grades are pretty good, I can apply for scholarships for college, and I can work part-time on weekends and holidays during high school to cover my college expenses. I can also…” “Stop.” The more I listened, the more ridiculous it sounded. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford to raise him. Thinking about him taking on part-time jobs… there are so many shady employers out there who love exploiting student workers, finding every excuse to dock their pay. I had been through it. He didn’t need to go through it too. “Just focus on your studies. Don’t even think about part-time jobs. I have money, I can afford to support you. There’s no need to sign this agreement; just consider it my way of repaying your mother.” I put the agreement down on the table and got up to go wash my face. “If you don’t sign it, I won’t stay here.” So annoying. Why is he being so dramatic? I really wanted to yell at him. But when I saw the earnestness and stubbornness in his eyes, and looked at the boy’s straight back in the morning light… I suddenly realized that this wasn’t just a promissory note; it was the last shred of pride for a “stray dog” with a heavy heart. I sat back down, picked up a pen, and swiftly signed my name in the Party A slot: Summer. Seeing the look of relief wash over his face, I found it somewhat amusing. “Go get cleaned up, we’ll go out for breakfast, and then to Target to buy your things. If I remember correctly, school starts in two weeks, right? Whatever you need, make a list, and we’ll buy it all at once.” I glanced at him. “I’m guessing your ungrateful relatives have already moved into your house. Before we go to Target, I’ll drop you off there so you can grab anything you can’t bear to leave behind. From now on, just call me Sum…” I paused, feeling a bit awkward. Given our age difference and relationship, calling me “Auntie” made me sound too old, but calling me “Sister” felt weird too. “Summer. I can cook, we don’t need to go out to eat.” With that, he got up and walked toward the refrigerator in the kitchen. Fine, just using my first name works too. But a second later, he turned to look at me, unable to hide his shock. 3. I had forgotten. The only thing in my fridge besides alcohol… was more alcohol. In the end, we still went out for breakfast, and then drove back to his old house. I didn’t go upstairs. He came down less than half an hour later, carrying only a photo of his mother, some books, and some clothes. He didn’t look well, and his eyes were a bit red. Those relatives probably hadn’t said anything nice, but I didn’t comfort him. It wasn’t my obligation to soothe his emotions. Some things you just have to endure on your own. We drove to Target. I let him pick out what he needed while I waited at the checkout. Harper called. As soon as I answered, I frowned and held the phone away from my ear. “Babe! I need comforting!” She was wailing dramatically on the other end. I sighed helplessly. “My friend, please control your volume, or I’m going to sue you for hearing damage. Tell me, what is it this time?” “It’s my dad again! He tricked me into another blind date! I just had a huge fight with him. Babe, I’m coming to sleep at your place tonight.” She pretended to sob. “I don’t have room. Someone’s in the guest room.” “What?! Summer, are you hiding a secret lover?” Her imagination was running wild. With a slight headache, I briefly explained the situation to her. She sighed in amazement and insisted on treating Liam to hot pot at a local place that afternoon, saying she felt bad for him and he needed a good meal. When Liam came out, he hadn’t bought many personal items, but he had a whole cart full of groceries. I looked at him in confusion. He explained in a low voice, “I’ll cook from now on. Eating out is a waste of money, and it’s not as healthy.” How domestic, a highly inappropriate thought popped into my head. The cashier gave us a very complicated look. Great, she’s misunderstanding the situation. I kept a straight face, paid the bill, and once we were in the car, I told Liam about Harper treating him to hot pot. He didn’t have any objections, just said that sounded good. On the way to the restaurant, I silently prayed: Please, Harper, try to keep a filter on your mouth later. 4. As soon as we walked into the hot pot place, I saw Harper waving frantically at us, her eyes lighting up when she saw Liam. Resigned, I led Liam over and introduced them. “Liam, this is Auntie Harper.” The woman across from me immediately got defensive. “What Auntie? Don’t listen to her nonsense. Liam, right? I’m your big sister Harper.” Liam obliged and called her “Sister Harper,” after which she sent him off to get dipping sauces. I knew she had something she wanted to say to me privately. Harper dropped her smile, looking deeply pained. “Summer, tell me the truth. Did you take one look at Liam’s face and decide to play some sort of grooming game? He’s underage!” I looked at her like she was an idiot, picked up my water glass, and didn’t reply. She continued her guessing game weakly, “Don’t tell me you want to… be his mom?” I choked, nearly spitting out my water. Harper hurriedly handed me a napkin. “Hey, I’m just throwing ideas out there! You hate drama more than anything. Don’t tell me it’s about repaying a debt of gratitude. I know you. You always keep things strictly business. You wouldn’t raise her son just because his mother helped you back then.” She was right. I wouldn’t. So, why did I take him in on a whim? Was it because, during that stare-down at the cemetery, I saw my past self in him? I didn’t know. Liam came back with the sauces, and Harper and I appropriately dropped the subject. During the hot pot meal, with Harper there, there was never a dull moment. She actually managed to make Liam blush several times. Before we left, as we stood by the car, Harper pulled me aside. She looked at Liam in the passenger seat and whispered, “I don’t know why you took him in, and if you don’t want to tell me, I won’t ask. Raising a kid isn’t easy. If you ever need anything, just say the word. Don’t try to shoulder it all yourself. You hear me?” I reached out, linked my arm through hers, and leaned close to her ear, drawing out my words, “I knowww~ You worry too much, Auntie Harper~” She playfully smacked the back of my hand in annoyance and let me go. Before heading home, we went to IKEA to order a wardrobe, desk, and chair to be delivered for the guest room. From now on, that would be his room. After getting everything arranged at home, I went back to my bedroom to catch up on sleep, leaving Liam to sort himself out. That evening, I was woken up by the smell of food. Rubbing my eyes, I groggily walked into the living room. Under the warm lighting, Liam was bringing plates out from the kitchen one by one. I looked at the table full of food, then looked up at him in confusion: Did I bring home a personal chef? Liam looked a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t know what you liked to eat, so I made a few different things. I accidentally made too much, sorry.” I waved my hand to show it was fine and sat down at the dining table, still a bit dazed. So this is what it feels like to have someone cook for you at home? In the days that followed, there wasn’t much interaction between Liam and me. Most of the time, I was holed up in my office drawing, occasionally going to the studio to meet clients with Harper. Since Liam arrived, the house was always spotless, and a few small potted plants had appeared on the balcony. Two weeks later, it was time for Liam to start school. It was only when I dropped him off for registration that I learned from his teacher he had ranked first in his entire school on his final exams last semester. This was what he meant by “grades are pretty good”? I turned to look at the boy, noting the tips of his ears turning red and his back subtly straightening a bit more. I chuckled inwardly; he was a bit like a cat. Since the school was close to home, after asking for his preference, we decided he would commute. The next day, we went back to the store to buy him a bicycle. With that, he officially started his junior year of high school, and I poured all my energy into the studio. Before I knew it, it was the Thanksgiving long weekend. 5. I didn’t expect to suddenly get sick on the first day of the holiday. It was probably because I had been so stressed with the studio recently, and the sudden relaxation caused my body to crash. Liam’s school had organized a study camp, so he left early in the morning and wasn’t going to be home for the entire break. I found some medicine in the living room cabinet, swallowed it with cold water, and groggily went back to my room to sleep. When I woke up again, I was parched. I could faintly hear the sound of someone rummaging through things in the living room. Forcing myself up, I grabbed a heavy book and tiptoed toward the living room. I locked eyes with the person in the living room and awkwardly lowered the book. Liam? Why was he back? Before I could ask, Liam, lips pressed in a tight line, walked over to me holding a thermometer gun. Before I could react, I stared blankly as he took my temperature. “You have a fever.” He looked at the number on the screen, his face darkening. “Yeah.” No wonder my whole body ached. “Why are you back?” Liam turned to put the thermometer back in the drawer, then picked up the medicine I had left on the table. “I came back to get a book I forgot. I saw the medicine on the table and guessed you were sick, so I asked the teacher for leave. I’m not going to the camp.” I frowned. “I can take care of myself. Go back to your camp.” He picked up the water glass I had used earlier and looked at me. “Oh, so drinking cold water and taking random medicine is how you take care of yourself?” I was momentarily speechless. I had the bizarre feeling that he was the parent here. “We’re out of fever reducers. I’m going out to buy some. I boiled some water in the kitchen; drink some of that first.” With that, he grabbed his keys and left. I sat on the sofa, dazed. In the past, I had gone to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy all by myself. When Harper found out afterward, she was teary-eyed and accused me of not treating her like a real friend. That wasn’t true. I just wasn’t used to depending on others. Subconsciously, I didn’t want to build close relationships with anyone. The sound of the front door opening pulled me out of my chaotic thoughts. Liam walked in, breathing heavily, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. He had run all the way back. He went to the kitchen, poured a fresh cup of hot water, then squatted in front of me, taking out the medicine and carefully reading the instructions. I watched him do all this with a blank expression. The feeling of being taken care of was… entirely unfamiliar to me. Liam didn’t end up going back to the study camp. Under his supervision, I recovered quickly. I had suggested he use the holiday to go hang out with friends. But he just shook his head and chose to stay home with me. Sometimes, we would go out together to buy groceries. Sometimes, we would draw the curtains during the day and curl up in the living room to watch an old movie. Sometimes, after dinner, we would go for a walk in the neighborhood park. But we still didn’t talk much. On the last day of the break, Harper showed up at my door, looking despondent, carrying a bag of groceries. The first thing she said to me was, “Babe, that woman is back.” 6. The woman Harper was referring to was Autumn, our college classmate. Although Harper wouldn’t admit it, her rejection of blind dates all these years was largely because of Autumn. As an observer, I understood their entanglement, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. Neither Harper nor I were great cooks, so Liam eventually took the groceries into the kitchen. Harper followed him, familiar with the layout, and opened the fridge looking for alcohol. Finding only vegetables, she turned to me in the living room. “Babe, where’s your stash?” Liam stepped around her, went to the liquor cabinet in the dining room, handed her a low-ABV bottle, and said quietly, “She just recovered from being sick. She shouldn’t drink.” My heart skipped a beat, and I looked nervously at Harper. Sure enough, the next second, Harper’s eyes were red, and she was accusing me of never telling her when I was sick. I had to meekly comfort her, insisting it was just a common cold and nothing major. Glancing at the busy figure in the kitchen, I had a sneaking suspicion Liam did that on purpose. I had to change the subject. “Did Autumn come looking for you?” Harper took a sip of her drink, looking defeated. “Yeah. She called and said she wants to get back together.” She slammed her glass down on the coffee table, agitated. “Who does she think she is? Why should I wait around for her? There’s a whole line of young, hot guys waiting for my attention.” Watching her pretend to be unbothered, I reached out my hand. “Give me your phone. I’ll call her and tell her to never bother you again.” Harper froze for a second, then tucked her phone against her chest like a little hamster, looking slightly wronged. “What are you doing! You’re making fun of me too.” I sighed. “I’m telling you to face your true feelings.” “Then she shouldn’t have just left for Europe for all those years without a word, and then come back with a breezy ‘let’s get back together,’ acting like the years we were apart didn’t exist.” Harper kept her head down, her voice choked with emotion. I moved over and pulled her into a hug. “Okay, then make her work for it.” By the time Liam brought out dinner, Harper had already finished a bottle of wine. At the dinner table, she insisted on drinking with Liam. I smiled helplessly. “He’s just a kid, he shouldn’t be drinking.” Harper didn’t care. “Liam’s almost an adult. A little alcohol won’t hurt. Come on, Summer, don’t be such a stick in the mud, okay?” And then I watched helplessly as Liam quietly slid his glass over. Fine. I give up. The meal lasted a long time. Even though Harper was laughing and joking the whole time, I knew she was really hurting inside. I knew how much she cared about Autumn, and how deeply Autumn’s departure had hurt her. All these years, she had been waiting for her. By the end of the night, Liam was a bit tipsy, and Harper suddenly turned into a messy drunk, demanding that Autumn come pick her up. Facing these two—one big, one small—drunks, my temples throbbed. I helped Liam to his room first. Before lying down, he kept mumbling that I shouldn’t clean up the dishes; he would do it in the morning. I chuckled, thinking his personality was like a little old man’s. I went back to the living room, squatted in front of Harper, and took her hand. “Are you absolutely sure you want to call her right now? I know you’re not actually drunk.” Harper went quiet. After a long while, she spoke. “I miss her a lot.” I patted her head and said softly, “Okay, I know.” I took her phone, called Autumn, and gave her my address. Then, I waited with Harper. About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Harper, who had been slumped over, instantly sat up straight, chugged another glass of wine, and slumped over again. I shook my head helplessly and went to open the door. The woman standing outside still had that same aloof aura, perhaps even stronger after all these years, but the anxiety in her eyes was unmistakable. We nodded at each other, and I stepped aside to let her in. She walked quickly toward Harper, gathered her in her arms, and called her name softly. The aloofness vanished; that gentleness was reserved exclusively for Harper. I stood by the entryway, watching them. In a daze, it felt like we were back in college. Back then, Harper would often pretend to be drunk, and every time she made me call Autumn to come get her. The aloof girl would always rush over, carefully coaxing the “drunk” Harper. The scene from my memory overlapped with the one in front of me. It felt like nothing had changed. Autumn half-carried, half-supported Harper toward the door. I looked at Harper, who was burying her face in Autumn’s neck, pretending to be out of it. I spoke up suddenly. “Autumn, Harper is my best friend. This is the last time I’m helping you.” I didn’t need to say more; both she and Harper understood. Autumn turned around and looked at me earnestly. “Thank you.” I waved a hand and closed the door. 7. The next day, I went to the studio. Looking at Harper, who arrived late, sporting a hickey on her neck. I had a smile in my eyes, but I didn’t say a word. Harper, completely giving herself away, muttered, “I haven’t said yes yet.” But we both knew it was only a matter of time. Her relationship with Autumn was like playing a game of tug-of-war where the ending was already written. To be honest, I envied Harper’s courage. I envied her ability to place her heart in someone else’s hands. Unlike me… it felt like I had lost the ability to love anyone. Thanks to our hard work, the studio gradually got on track. I found myself with a lot of free time. Sometimes I’d go with Liam to the subway station when he went to school. Watching the people coming and going on the platform, I’d guess what they were thinking. Time for me felt both stagnant and accelerated. Before I knew it, it was New Year’s Eve. I received an unexpected phone call. I was at the grocery store buying flour when the phone rang. Liam had casually found out from Harper that I loved crispy fried pork. He had secretly learned how to make it. He planned to show off his skills tonight, but we were out of flour, and he was busy watching soup simmer on the stove. He couldn’t leave, so he “dispatched” me to buy it. The man on the other end of the line was my father. I had no idea how he got my number. When I answered, he only said one sentence: “Your stepmother was cleaning the room and found a letter your mother left for you. Come get it yourself.” Then, he hung up. The “stepmother” he mentioned was only a decade older than me. I sent Liam a text, and ultimately, I drove back to that “home.” 8. It was that woman who opened the door for me. “The letter.” I stayed standing in the doorway, with no intention of going inside. My father walked over from the living room, his tone unfriendly. “Don’t you know how to greet people?” I fought the urge to leave immediately and spoke again. “The letter!” The woman, perhaps worried we’d start fighting, hurried back to the living room. When she reappeared, she was holding an envelope, a fawning look in her eyes. She tested the waters: “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” My patience exhausted, I snatched the letter from her hand and turned to leave. Behind me, I heard my father’s dissatisfied reprimand: “Why did you ask her to stay? As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a daughter!” I didn’t stop walking until I was back in my car. Only then did I realize the hand holding the letter was trembling slightly. Opening the letter felt like it was happening in slow motion. Until the first line of familiar handwriting caught my eye: My dearest Summer, do not carry the burden of the issues between your father and me. I abruptly folded the letter, losing the courage to read any further. I suddenly felt the urge to laugh, and then I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out loud. My mother was a gentle woman who loved to read. My father was a businessman who only knew how to make money. Back then, my father fell in love with my mother at first sight and pursued her relentlessly, but she was never moved. However, my father managed to persuade my grandmother, and under her “coercion,” my mother eventually married him. At first, my father was incredibly good to my mother, and our family had a period of true happiness. But later, my mother’s health began to decline, and my father started having affairs. My mother asked for a divorce, but he refused, so they were locked in a stalemate. Later, as my mother’s illness worsened and she was hospitalized, my father became even more brazen, openly bringing his mistresses into our home. Until the day my mother was critically ill, and I waited alone outside the operating room. With red eyes, I called my father’s phone over and over again. I sent countless texts, begging him to come to the hospital. But my calls and messages vanished into the void, until my phone died and shut off automatically. The light above the operating room went out, and my mother was wheeled out, covered completely in a white sheet. All I could hear was the nurses repeatedly asking me, “Where is your father?” I didn’t say a word. I just stared fixedly in the direction my mother had been taken, my eyes burning. Later, my father finally showed up, sporting hickeys on his neck. It turned out that while my mother was lying on the operating table, he was lying in our bed at home with another woman. I couldn’t understand. He had loved my mother so much; how could his heart change like that? Less than a month after my mother passed away, my father announced he was marrying that woman. I refused and threw a fit, but my father said if I didn’t agree, I could get out. My maternal grandparents had passed away early, so I went to my mother’s other relatives, hoping they would stand up for justice. But they had all been bought off by my father’s money. On the day my father married that woman, I ran away from home. I was 16. Since then, I never went back to that house. To support myself, I worked various odd jobs. A lot of shady employers love hiring minors because they’re cheap and easy to push around. Although I got beaten down by reality during those days, at least I could support myself. Later, I met Liam’s mother. She was a good person. Ignoring my fierce, defensive hostility, she gently but firmly pulled me out of the swamp and sponsored my college education. Liam?! I suddenly snapped out of my memories. Liam was still at home, waiting for me to eat New Year’s Eve dinner. I put the letter away and drove home. Pushing open the door, I locked eyes with Liam, who was standing in the living room under the warm light. He stared into my eyes for a long time, then went into the kitchen to heat up the food. I was thankful he didn’t ask any questions. After dinner, we sat at opposite ends of the sofa, but neither of us turned on the TV to watch the New Year’s countdown. It was too noisy. But doing nothing felt too lonely. So, I told him to put on a random playlist on his phone, and we just sat there, quietly listening to the music. At midnight, fireworks bloomed wildly outside the window. The music app played a song I wasn’t familiar with. A female voice sang: Hey, you must understand People who come will eventually leave The only constant in this world Is that people are fickle Later, Liam told me the song was called “Passing Through the Human World.”
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