Comfort in the midst of defeat—perhaps its value isn't far behind that of a perfect victory.
For those who succeed always receive their reward, never short of joy; but there are far more defeated people in this world, and even if the world tells them to stay strong, a bit of gentle comfort when they're at their breaking point is rare and precious.
Charlotte felt the same gratitude.
Looking back on those recent hard days—even if the outcome had been flawed, even if they'd both failed in their own ways—at least on that road, neither of them had been alone.
---
That day should have been the closest Charlotte had ever come to meeting the young man next door.
But just a few hours before he was due home, Charlotte received a call from her relatives back home. Her father had had an accident and was in the hospital in critical condition—she needed to come right away.
Because the situation was unclear and every minute counted, a terrified Charlotte mindlessly stuffed whatever she could into a suitcase and, before rushing back thousands of miles to her hometown, left a desperate note: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! When I get back, we'll meet for real!"
---
That trip lasted half a month. Only when her father's condition stabilized and he was out of danger did Charlotte finally return, suitcase in hand, haggard and travel-worn.
What awaited her was no longer the young man who'd lived next door. A couple she'd never seen before had moved into his room—they said they were the landlady's relatives, recently arrived.
Charlotte stared, dumbfounded: What was going on?
The truth was pinned to the fridge.
During Charlotte's absence, the landlady had terminated the young man's lease to make room for her relatives, giving him no buffer time and demanding he vacate immediately.
"I'm sorry I had to leave without even saying goodbye. Can't be your neighbor anymore." The last note was written in the same neat, steady hand as always. "Thank you for taking care of Boss all this time. Please take good care of yourself too. Goodbye."
Pinned alongside the note with that original little house-shaped magnet was a small Boss-shaped plush toy.
Charlotte gripped the tiny cat toy, her palm feeling something like real fur. The knowledge that he'd said goodbye this cleanly—left without even offering a way to stay in touch, just like countless brief intersections that fade into nothing in a big city—made tears she hadn't shed in years come pouring out.
She didn't even know why.
It just hurt so much.
---
The following weeks were unremarkable. Life went on, the same as before.
No Boss, no fridge magnets, and Charlotte never made any effort to get to know the new neighbors.
When they occasionally crossed paths in the shared space, she couldn't muster the energy for small talk, offering at most an awkward but polite smile.
Even her comic updates stopped.
Loyal readers left comments begging for new strips, but she couldn't draw anything. In her free time, she just stared at the little Boss plush toy.
She knew who she missed. But that person was gone.
From start to finish, they'd never even met face to face. Which wasn't unusual—in this vast city where nobody knows anybody, even people sharing the same roof might pass each other forever without connecting.
But had nothing really been left behind?
No.
Charlotte's life had changed in small ways. She'd started to enjoy cooking for herself and bringing lunch to work. She'd begun keeping her room tidier and more aesthetically arranged. Even her sleep schedule, once so hopelessly nocturnal she'd thought it could never shift, was gradually adjusting, becoming more in sync with the city's rhythms.
All without her realizing, learned from a disciplined young man who was no longer there.
An intersection that went nowhere—like a summer breeze passing through pine-covered mountains, cool and then gone.
Yet traces remained, echoing through the rest of her life.
---
Some time later, Charlotte became extraordinarily busy again. Work was a relentless battle, one project after another, deadlines always looming.
One morning, after another all-nighter at the studio, she noticed on the way home that heavy rain had fallen, and worried that her succulents on the balcony might be drowning.
She opened the door, heavy-hearted—
And found all her succulents, safe and un-rained-upon, arranged on the small living room table. On the sofa sat a young man, with a fat orange cat beside him.
Boss!
Charlotte stared at the young man standing up, and a thought struck her with absolute certainty: this tall, lean, clean-cut, bespectacled young man was the person who'd been living next door all along.
Don't ask her how she knew. She just knew.
"You're…" Charlotte somehow couldn't find the right words.
"That's right, I'm Boss's owner." The young man nodded, then scooped up the cat by the scruff and dangled him in the air. "This beast escaped my place last night and ran all the way back here. Hard to believe he remembered such a long route, and even climbed in through the window."
"Uh, so you came to retrieve the cat?" Charlotte blinked.
"More or less. I saw it was raining hard and remembered you said succulents shouldn't get soaked, so I brought them inside from the balcony too." He set Boss down, and then his tone turned slightly, suspiciously hesitant. "By the way, the people living in my old room were kind enough to unlock the door for me, and they agreed to let me wait here for you."
Charlotte repeated, numbly: "Wait for me?"
The young man nodded again, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to her. "Because you might have forgotten this."
Baffled, Charlotte took the note and found a phone number written on it, along with a time and place for a meetup. The location was a nearby art museum. The date was…not long after he'd moved out.
Seeing her confusion, the young man's expression shifted to understanding, and he seemed to relax.
He explained that when he'd moved out, he'd actually left two notes—one explaining why he had to leave, and another inviting her to properly meet.
"Those two notes were supposed to be stuck side by side. But that original house magnet was so old and weak, one of the notes must have slipped off." He stepped closer, pointing at the phone number. "You never saw this one, did you? I just found it wedged between the fridge and the wall."
It was the disappearance of this second note that made Charlotte assume he'd left callously, without even leaving a way to contact him. So she never worked up the courage to ask the landlady for his number, fearing rejection.
And the young man himself had waited at the art museum all day, assuming Charlotte had chosen not to show up, not even calling to tell him so.
Both had been waiting for the other. Neither had come.
If Boss hadn't made his rainy-night sprint, if the young man hadn't thoroughly checked the gap between the fridge and the wall, they might truly have passed each other by forever in this crowded city.
"Aaaargh!" Charlotte felt like she was going to combust. Her tangled emotions erupted and her words tumbled out incoherently: "I'm sorry, I didn't know—I made you wait a whole day for nothing—no, wait, thank you first—for bringing the succulents in—no no no, I, um, Boss, oh my god, this is just…"
"Don't rush. You can save the apologies and thanks for later—there's plenty of time." The young man's quiet laugh carried a brightness that lit up his eyes. "At a moment like this, shouldn't we start with introductions?"
He smiled at her.
"Hello, Miss Lin. Nice to finally meet you. I'm Rowan."
Author: Willow Page