Early in the morning, Li Hua received a call from her younger sister, Hong Mei, who was in New York.
Her voice on the line was unnervingly calm—so calm it made Li Hua's chest tighten. Hong Mei said she would need to be hospitalized soon for surgery. A few years ago, she had undergone breast cancer surgery; this time, it was a glioma in the brain.
Li Hua hung up the phone, her heart heavy, almost suffocating.
After breakfast, she took the children to school and kindergarten, then went to her mother's house. She told her mother that she would be traveling for work next month and asked her to help care for the three children. The plane tickets were already booked. She didn't go into details.
During Hong Mei's breast cancer surgery years ago, their mother had been nearly overwhelmed with anxiety. Their father had just passed away, and the helplessness and fear she saw in her mother's eyes were still vivid in Li Hua's memory. This time, she chose to shoulder the burden herself, sparing her mother from the ordeal.
Hong Mei was the most doted-upon child in the family, two years younger than Li Hua.
Li Hua resembled their father—square-jawed, single-lidded eyes, tall and lean, calm and restrained by nature. Hong Mei, on the other hand, took after their mother—an oval face, petite and delicate, strikingly beautiful, vivacious, with a love for dance and painting, naturally glowing with talent.
Hong Mei's ex-husband, Wei Min, had been Li Hua's classmate in university and a campus heartthrob. Hong Mei had met him at school and fallen for him at first sight; he pursued her relentlessly. Later, they married, and when Wei Min was posted to the U.S. for work, Hong Mei followed him.
Fate, however, took an unexpected turn on a train journey.
Hong Mei encountered her current husband, Michael, by chance in the carriage. With his slightly wavy gray hair, he was quietly reading across from her. In Hong Mei's eyes, he resembled the Hollywood heartthrob Richard Gere.
When Michael got off the train, Hong Mei, still a few stops from her own, impulsively followed him, trailing from a distance.
They met properly soon after. Michael had recently divorced, and there was an age gap of over ten years between them. Later, Hong Mei divorced Wei Min and chose to be with Michael.
At the time, Li Hua had strongly opposed the relationship. Their mother was even more upset. Almost no one in the family supported it, yet Hong Mei's resolve never wavered. Once she decided, there was no turning back.
Now, sitting alone in a quiet room, Li Hua suddenly realized that her once-spoiled, playful, bold little sister—the one who chased love and laughter freely—was facing a major surgery.
Worry and tenderness tangled together.
No matter past quarrels or misunderstandings, blood ties and familial concern had never truly left.
That morning, the shower at home malfunctioned, and Sabrina called the building management. Last week, she had been discussing with William whether to buy an apartment they had seen in Midtown. Its property management was far better than their current rental, the gym was bigger, and there was a swimming pool. She had planned to sell a small apartment her mother had bought for her during college and upgrade with William. The Midtown apartment was just the right size, conveniently close to both their offices.
Brushing her teeth, the anxiety from last night's dream still lingered. The worries about Li Hua's sister, about the children playing by the pond and possibly falling in again… the residual unease refused to fade.
Her phone buzzed—a message from Jason in the team saying he would take the morning off but come to the office in the afternoon. Sabrina flipped back to his previous message, in which Jason mentioned wanting to resign by the end of the month. He was dissatisfied with his current workload and frustrated that Susan refused to adopt his suggested changes for the kitchen, master bathroom, lighting, and wall materials.
Seeing the message, Sabrina felt a surge of frustration. Jason was the most capable member of the team; if he left, upcoming projects would be severely affected. Susan, though a graduate of a well-known design school in China, held outdated ideas, and the other young members lacked experience. The only remaining staff was a relative of the boss. In other words, the key person they could rely on was Jason. His resignation would soon leave them understaffed, and Sabrina couldn't help feeling anxious.
Hong Mei had just finished surgery, her head wrapped in thick bandages, her face swollen and distorted. Her petite frame curled on the hospital bed, looking extremely fragile.
Seeing her like this, Li Hua couldn't hold back her tears.
Hong Mei slightly opened her eyes, raising a hand as if to wipe away her sister's tears. As a child, Hong Mei had been especially sensitive and cried often, earning the nickname "Crybaby." Li Hua barely remembered crying herself—it was almost always her sister.
Now, that once delicate little sister lay quietly on the hospital bed, not a single tear.
Perhaps life had allotted a measure of tears to everyone; once spent, there were none left.
During the days spent with her sister, before and after the surgery, Li Hua had never seen Hong Mei show the slightest panic. Instead, it was she herself who struggled with low moods, tears flowing uncontrollably at the sight of her sister's frail state.
That evening, Sabrina received a video call from her mother.
First, a preemptive "Happy Birthday," delivered with her usual care and unmistakable presence. Then, naturally, the conversation shifted to the unavoidable topic:
"Are you still taking ovulation injections? Any signs?"
"If you still can't conceive, have you considered freezing your eggs? At your age, waiting a few more years will make it harder."
Her tone wasn't harsh, just a hint of anxiety.
The call ended, leaving Sabrina with a slow, rising irritation. Almost every call ultimately returned to this topic, like a cycle she couldn't escape.
William's parents, though traditional Hong Kongers, didn't pressure them about children. His younger brother already had two, so the family expectation wasn't on them. William himself remained calm, seemingly unconcerned.
Indeed, in reality, their busy schedules meant they weren't ready to take on a child yet. But the words "freeze your eggs" fell into her mind like a small stone, gently but insistently.
Not entirely impossible, she thought. Perhaps when William returned, they could discuss it seriously—not merely to appease her mother, but for themselves.
For now, she didn't want to think about it. The endless dreams, work frustrations, and pressures layered on top of each other, making it hard to breathe. She just wanted peace and quiet.
Some matters could only be faced when the mind was calm and unburdened.
New York at night was quiet.
Sabrina set her phone down. The instant the screen went dark, the room felt empty.
Freezing eggs.
Glioma.
Three children.
A strange thought struck her—
In the dream, Li Hua never hesitated over whether to have children. She had been handed responsibility for Tingting, and unexpectedly conceived twins. Life pushed it all upon her; she had no choice.
In reality, however, she had choices.
To have a child or not.
To freeze her eggs or not.
To buy a home or not.
To keep Jason or not.
To confront Susan firmly or not.
Sometimes, the more choices there are, the harder it is to decide.