Hong Kong's summer is as sweltering as ever, and the goldfish in the aquarium swim on without change.

Only one person disappeared, yet the world continued to turn with agonizing normalcy. I thought about the reason you left countless times. Was I not enough? Did you find someone else? Or was I the only one who was sincere from the start? There was no answer either way.

I tried hard to forget you. I deliberately avoided the streets we walked together and tried not to recall the conversations we shared. But every night, I checked my phone out of habit, and on rainy days, I wondered if you were getting wet. Then, disgusted by myself, I would blame myself for a long time.

The more I hated you, the clearer you became. The laughter in my memories, the small habits, and the way you looked at me hardly faded. You didn't even give me a moment to imagine a tomorrow without you, so how could you disappear from my world so easily?

For five years, I learned how to hate you. But in the end, I never learned how not to love you.

And on a day when a sudden shower fell as usual, you appeared before me as if nothing had happened, just like a goldfish waving its tail in the flowing water.