Spring had finally arrived.
In the early mornings, the park began to fill with joggers. Streets saw returning traffic, subway entrances once again formed orderly queues. The city, like a machine that had been paused, was gradually starting to move again.
The company had implemented a hybrid work model—three days in the office each week, the rest from home. With the backlog of work accumulated during the pause, the pace now felt even more hectic than before the pandemic.
Most of the time, Sabrina couldn't truly work from home. She had to visit clients, discuss design plans, and make adjustments on-site. Her outings became frequent, and her schedule packed from morning till night.
After getting vaccinated, Sabrina only ran a mild fever for two days before returning to normal. William, however, had a much stronger reaction, lasting over a week before he fully recovered. Shortly after, he developed shingles, but thankfully he was gradually recovering.
As the weather warmed, Sabrina resumed her morning runs. The air in the early hours was no longer biting, and the streets were no longer empty. That long-missed feeling slowly returned, as if life were making a cautious effort to approach its pre-pandemic rhythm. Everyone hoped for a full recovery of daily life, for everything to return to normal.
Clara's previously planned Camino de Santiago trek had to be canceled. The carefully prepared route now had no clear restart date. Flights were sparse, tickets expensive, and the plan could only be postponed.
Life seemed to be recovering but had not yet fully returned to what it had been. Streets were lively again, office lights were on, cafés reopened. Yet everyone knew the traces of that extraordinary period remained. Every breath, every handshake, every outing carried caution.
Recovery was not instantaneous—it required a slow, deliberate process. People pressed forward, yet the uncertainty of the future lingered. And the days that had passed left indelible marks on memory…
Due to the sudden pandemic, Michael's original plan to take his daughter to Beijing to return half of Hongmei's ashes for burial was postponed.
Now it was spring 2004, and March in Beijing was still cold. Michael brought Clara off the plane, where Haitao and Lihua came to pick them up and arranged hotel accommodations for the pair. The next day, they would head to the suburban cemetery, where the plot chosen for Hongmei was close to her father's, fulfilling her wish to be reunited with family.
In the chilly early spring, just before the Qingming Festival, Hongmei was finally reunited with her family. Her mother, with limited mobility, followed along, tears continuously streaming. Lihua comforted her softly, "Your sister is back; she's finally with us." Even as her own tears fell, Lihua tried to reassure her mother while holding Clara tightly in her arms, as if embracing her own sister. She wanted to offer Clara a sense of warmth.
Clara had been undergoing psychological therapy in New York for some time. Michael noted that during this period, Clara's smiles gradually returned, and her personality had become more lively. The benefits of therapy were clear, though she would still need continued support after returning to New York.
Looking at Michael, Lihua felt a deep surge of emotion—his hair had gone white, his face had aged considerably. She worried about Clara's growth and the future of both the elder and the younger, a mixture of concern and unease weighing on her heart…
The scene at the cemetery from the night before lingered in memory. Waking up in the morning, Sabrina's eyes were still streaked with tears; the heaviness felt almost tangible. She got up to wash, and the mirror revealed a few more strands of gray at her temples. Over the past year, so many plans had been delayed, even taking care of herself had become a luxury.
Thankfully, her "go-to" Korean hairstylist, Jamie, had finally returned. She first called Vivian, who would be taking her daughter to a math class in Brooklyn that afternoon, then reached out to Clara. Clara happened to be free, and they arranged to meet at the salon.
When they met, Clara looked at her hair and said gently, "You don't need to dye it all. Keep the natural gray and just trim it with layers. The 'silver gray' look is in style now—it's elegant and suits you."
Jamie agreed, only adding subtle highlights and cleaning up the layers for a neat finish.
When the cape was removed, the reflection in the mirror seemed far more stylish. There was no need to hide the years; instead, the gray made them appear graceful. Sabrina smiled, saying, "Following the stylist's advice was definitely the right choice."
Feeling lighter, she asked about Clara's father.
"Still stable," Clara said. "Just a little loss of appetite and sleepiness, otherwise okay."
In that moment, they allowed themselves to believe that things were slowly getting back on track.
Before leaving, they made plans to go to Broadway Theatre District in New York City with Vivian the following week. It had been a long time since they'd been inside a theater. The lights, the music, the long-missed ritual…
Night fell. Sabrina had just arrived home when her phone rang.
It was Clara. Her voice was urgent and trembling: "My dad's in a coma. When we got home, he was unresponsive. We called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital."
The hospital's findings were not encouraging. Clara's father had chronic lung disease, and this time he seemed to have developed an acute inflammation. Recently, hospitalizations among older patients had risen noticeably. The doctors spoke cautiously, offering no clear prognosis.
Sabrina repeatedly reassured Clara over the phone, urging her not to panic and to focus on caring for her father.
After the pandemic, many people's health seemed more fragile. She and William had both been infected recently; although recovered, the lingering shadow of those feverish days had not entirely faded.
After hanging up, Sabrina sat quietly on the sofa. The sense of lightness and joy she had felt in front of the mirror that afternoon now seemed to sink away.
Outside, city lights flickered, and the city remained alive with noise.
Life always seemed to swing between hope and uncertainty.
She sighed softly.
Perhaps "the end" would never arrive on a single day. What one could do now was simply cherish the present.