On the eve of National Day, after three sleepless nights of refreshing the ticketing app, I finally managed to secure two high-speed rail tickets home—one for me and one for my boyfriend.
I let out a long sigh of relief, only for my phone to buzz with his message.
[Rosalie is in a bad mood. I gave her your ticket.]
[See if you can still grab a standing ticket. It's only seven or eight hours anyway.]
I stared at the canceled order on my screen, my chest tightening.
After a moment of silence, I took a deep breath and dialed a different number.
"Dad, can our private jet land directly at the entrance of my university?"
——
On the other end, there was a two-second pause. Clearly, my father was startled by the abrupt and rather extravagant request. But he knew me well. I wasn't the type to throw tantrums without reason.
"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. "No problem."
"Thanks, Dad."
"You don't need to thank me. We'll talk when you get home."
The call had barely ended when my boyfriend, Kervin, rang me, his tone sharp with impatience.
"Danna! What's wrong with you? Why aren't you answering my messages?"
His voice carried blame, as though I were the one being unreasonable.
"It's just a ticket. Do you really have to throw a fit? Rosalie is upset! Why couldn't you show a little understanding?"
My grip on the phone tightened until my fingertips whitened. "My ticket. You canceled it without asking me?"
"It was urgent!" he shot back, sounding self-righteous. "Rosalie didn't do well on her exams. She's been feeling particularly down and lacking energy. The business-class seat you booked is quieter, more comfortable—it's perfect for helping her relax.
"And besides, why didn't you book an extra one when you got the tickets? Now it's all such a mess!"
I almost laughed at the absurdity of his logic.
"Kervin, I stayed up three whole nights for those two tickets. My eyes burned from staring at the screen, and my fingers were sore from refreshing nonstop.
"This was supposed to be our first trip home together. I wanted it to be a memory we both cherished. And you—without a word to me—gave my ticket away to someone else?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice rose. "Danna, I don't know when you became so cold-hearted and petty."
"Rosalie is your friend too, isn't she? She's studying alone in a different city—it's not easy for her. Shouldn't we look out for her? And you're hung up over one ticket?"
"Not easy?" I echoed softly, my chest hollow with disbelief. "Do you think I have it easy? Seven or eight hours standing on a packed train—that's nothing to you?"
"So what if it's a standing ticket? Just a little hardship and you're already complaining? When did you become so spoiled?" His voice was laced with disappointment now.
"I thought you were kind and sensible. Turns out you're vain. Just because you lost a business-class seat, you think it's embarrassing? Is that why you're making such a fuss?"
Vain?
The word stabbed into me like a cold blade.
He thought I was throwing a tantrum over a business-class seat. He had no idea it wasn't about the seat. It was never about the seat!
All I wanted was to go home with him, side by side, sharing the journey.
If I wanted, one word from me and my father could buy the entire train outright. But that wasn't the point.
Now, I had no desire to explain. I only wanted to watch how far he and his delicate little "friend" could take this act.
I stayed silent for a few seconds.
To Kervin, my silence sounded like guilt and compromise.
His tone softened slightly, but still carried a condescending edge of someone granting a favor.
