On the train home, I couldn't stop thinking about Zinuo.
Not about what we talked about.
About her.
At university, we were nothing alike.
I was the outgoing one.
Always organising class dinners.
Always laughing the loudest.
Always convinced life would work itself out.
Zinuo was quieter.
She worried about everything.
Before exams, she'd get so nervous she could barely eat.
If someone had told me back then that one day I would be the one looking at her with envy, I would have laughed.
Life has a funny sense of humour.
I kept replaying our conversation in my head.
It wasn't anything she said.
It was the way she carried herself.
She seemed... settled.
Not perfect.
Just comfortable in her own skin.
I couldn't remember the last time I had felt like that.
When I caught my reflection in the train window, I barely recognised the woman looking back.
She looked tired.
Not just physically.
The kind of tired that quietly builds up after years of trying to hold everything together.
Moving countries.
Raising a daughter.
Looking for work.
Starting over.
Some days I felt as though I had spent years surviving without ever noticing it.
I wondered what people saw when they looked at me.
Did they see someone strong?
Or did they simply see someone getting older?
I almost laughed at myself.
Maybe I wasn't jealous of Zinuo.
Maybe I was jealous of the peace she seemed to have found.
It's a strange feeling.
Being genuinely happy for someone...
while quietly wishing you could borrow a little of whatever they had.
When I got home, I placed the little white box on the kitchen bench and left it there.
I wasn't thinking about the gift anymore.
I was thinking about her smile.
People often say time changes us.
I'm not sure that's true.
I think life changes us.
Sometimes gently.
Sometimes all at once.
And somewhere along the way, without even noticing, we become someone our younger selves would never have imagined.
I made myself a cup of tea and stood by the kitchen window for a while.
Outside, everything looked exactly the same as it had that morning.
Inside, something felt just a little different.
Maybe not hope.
Not yet.
But perhaps...
curiosity.