When Time Betrays the Heart

I waited. And waited. No reply came. A bitter smile twisted my lips as fresh tears dripped onto the page. Of course he didn't believe me. He was me, twelve years ago. How could I not understand him? He was an eighteen-year-old boy who thought a crush was destiny. Who believed love was an unbreakable vow. Amy Ware was the center of his universe—the girl he'd sworn to protect with everything he had. If he gave up just because a stranger scribbled a few discouraging words in his notebook, he wouldn't be Dominic Delgado. I clutched the diary to my chest and curled into a tight ball on the cold floor. When Amy was still alive, she used to fall asleep like this. Defensive. Lonely. I didn't know how much time passed before a cacophony of voices dragged me back. The front door banged open. My mother. My younger sister. "Where is your brother? The lights are on, but the place is silent." "Hurry up. Pack up all that jinx's trash and throw it out. Keeping a dead person's things is bad luck." "I need to get Vivi moved in ASAP. Then I can finally hold a grandson. That useless woman—married four years and couldn't pop out a son or a daughter. Good riddance. At least now we have space." They barged into the master bedroom. My sister yelped when she spotted me on the floor. "Brother? You're home? You... you didn't hear anything, did you?" She recovered fast, sliding on a mask of concern. "Sister-in-law is gone, so Mom and I came to help you tidy up. We were afraid seeing her things would upset you. Don't misunderstand." I looked at them—the two women who were supposed to be my family. Guilt flushed their faces, but their eyes held no remorse. A cold realization settled into my gut. *So this is how they treated Amy when I wasn't around.* During our four years of marriage, Amy had asked—begged—to live separately from them. And what did I do? I scolded her. Called her petty. Told her she was intolerant and unfilial. My father died young. My mother raised my sister and me alone. I felt I owed her everything. So after marrying Amy, I moved my mother and sister in. Four people under one roof. In front of me, my mother treated Amy like a princess. Better than her own daughter. The best food, the best clothes. Never let her lift a finger. Amy tried to tell me it was all an act. Tears in her eyes, she told me the moment I left for work, my mother would treat her like a servant—piling chores on her, mocking her for being a "hen that couldn't lay eggs." Every time she brought it up, I shut her down. I was impatient. I didn't want to hear it. Eventually, Amy stopped talking. Deep down, didn't I know what my mother was like? Of course I did. But I was busy. I was the man of the house. I didn't have time for "trivial domestic squabbles." My mother had suffered her whole life—why couldn't Amy just yield a little? *Heh.* I wasn't just a bad husband. I was scum. Slowly, I rose to my feet. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as I fixed a glacial stare on them. "Vivi and I are finished. She isn't moving in. And you won't be holding a grandson." My voice came out dead calm. "The one who can't have children isn't Amy. It's me." My mother's gasp echoed off the walls. "Find a new place to live. Didn't I buy you a condo across town? Move there." "This is Amy's home. Mine and hers. If a single item of hers goes missing, I will hold you personally responsible." My mother swayed, clutching her chest. My sister barely caught her before she crumpled. "What... what did you say?" Her voice climbed to a shriek. "How can a man be unable to have children? It's clearly that jinx's fault!" "And you want me to move out? I gave birth to you! Now that you're successful, you want to toss your own mother aside?" "What do you mean 'yours and hers'? A home without a mother isn't a home!" I looked at her. Really looked at her. And felt nothing but a vast, desolate emptiness.

Even I found my own mother suffocating. I could only imagine the hell Amy endured for four years. "When I wasn't home, this is how you spoke to her, isn't it? Calling her a jinx? Mocking her for being barren?" I stepped forward, voice hardening to steel. "I won't be back for a few days. Move out before I return. Don't make me say it twice." Ignoring their stunned faces, I grabbed the diary and walked out. This book was Amy's most treasured possession. I'd already lost her. I couldn't lose this too. Behind me, my mother's shock curdled into hysteria. "You unfilial wretch! Just because that bad luck charm died, you're abandoning your own mother?" "Don't pretend you're some heartbroken lover now! If you loved her so much, why didn't you treat her better when she was breathing?" "And don't try to fool me! I'm not uneducated! A man can't be infertile! You owe me a grandson!" I didn't look back. I just kept walking. I hadn't lied to them. Years of stress, late nights, and heavy drinking had destroyed my body. My sperm count was virtually zero. Amy knew. But she also knew how fragile my ego was. So she took the blame. She let the world think she was the broken one. She swallowed every insult, every mocking glance, and answered with a gentle smile. The elevator doors closed. In the polished metal, a hollowed-out man in a wrinkled suit stared back at me. *Dominic Delgado, you really are a monster.* My mind was a chaotic wreck. I stumbled out of the residential complex and hailed a taxi. "Where to?" the driver asked. The words left my mouth before I could think. "Jiangcheng University." Thirty minutes later, I stood at the familiar gates. Evening air washed over me—street food, chatter, the careless laughter of students who still believed the world was kind. I opened the diary. New sentences had appeared. *"My Amy is the best girl in the whole world. I feel like I'm with her every moment, even when we're apart."* *"If I'd known earlier, I would've applied to her university. Then I could see her every day. But being in the same city is enough—at least I get weekends."* *"Amy said she was craving the little wontons from the stall by the gate. Silly girl. She thinks I don't know she just wants to save me money."* A sad, wistful smile tugged at my mouth. I remembered writing this. Freshman year. We were at different schools, separated by an hour-long bus ride. Every Friday, I crossed the city to see her. I was broke back then. Amy knew it. She claimed to love those cheap wontons so I wouldn't blow my meager allowance on expensive meals. And every Sunday, before I left, she'd secretly stuff cash into my pockets. As I stood there lost in memory, ink bled onto the page again. *"I've thought about it. I believe you. You really are Dominic from the future."* *"Forget the nonsense you wrote earlier. I won't hold it against you. We're the same person, after all."* *"Now, tell me the truth—did Amy and I get married? Is she my wife in the future?"* My smile vanished. The words blurred as my eyes stung. *Is she my wife?* Yes. And I killed her spirit before her body ever gave out. I hesitated for a long time, pen hovering over paper. Finally, I wrote: *"Yes. You married her. She is your wife."* The reply came instantly, handwriting jagged with excitement. *"See?! And you told me not to confess! If I didn't confess, how would I land such an amazing wife?"* *"Listen to me, Old Man. You'd better treat my Amy like a queen. If you hurt her, I won't let you off the hook!"* *"Oh, right—Amy loves that wonton shop by the gate. Buy her a bowl for me. Even if you've been married for years, you have to keep winning her heart every single day."*

I stood frozen for a long moment. Eventually, I snapped the diary shut and walked toward the snack street. Twelve years had passed. The humble wonton stall had evolved into a proper shop, and the proprietress's hair was now streaked with gray. Class was in session at the university, so the shop sat empty. After setting the steaming bowl before me, the proprietress didn't leave. She pulled out a chair and settled across from me instead. "You two are quite a pair," she mused. "Amy came by last month, all alone." My head snapped up. I stared at her, starving for any scrap of information about Amy before she passed. The proprietress smiled warmly and handed me a pair of chopsticks. "She said you were buried in work. Missed the taste of my cooking, so she came by herself." She tilted her head. "What about today? Why isn't she with you?" She leaned in slightly. "Don't mind an old woman prying, but did you two have a spat? She'd lost a lot of weight last time I saw her." "You two were inseparable back in school. She's such a good girl—you mustn't let her down. I still remember back then..." Her voice turned soft, nostalgic. My thoughts drifted with it. Back then, we were broke. The budget for our weekend dates came from the living expenses I saved by skipping meals. Whenever we ate here, Amy would transfer more than half her wontons into my bowl. "I already ate at the cafeteria," she would lie. "I'm too full." During our poorest days, we could only afford a single bowl to share. Amy would insist she wasn't hungry, watching me eat with that gentle smile on her face. I remembered my senior year internship. Right here, at this tiny stall, I looked at the girl laughing and chatting across from me, and I made a solemn vow. *Amy, I promise you a good life.* *For the rest of my life, having Amy is enough for Dominic Delgado.* The vow still echoed in my ears. But that girl would never forgive me again. When I snapped back to reality, the proprietress had moved on to greet other customers. Perhaps the wontons were too hot; the rising steam blurred my vision. I gripped the chopsticks and mechanically shoveled the scalding wontons into my mouth, one after another, until my throat refused to swallow anymore. It hurt. God, Amy, it hurt so much. *I'm begging you—let me see you one more time.* *Just one last look. Please.* I left the shop and wandered aimlessly through the snack street, lost. Finally, I stood at the university gate for a long time before opening the diary again. *"I've decided to start my own business. Relying on a meager salary, when will I ever be able to give Amy a good life?"* *"Amy told me today she found a place with rent that's only $300 a month—cheap and decent."* *"I went to see it. It's clearly in the tenements. The environment is terrible. How can Amy live in a dump like that? I'm trash. Why am I so useless?"* A memory sparked. I hailed a taxi and directed the driver to the urban village in the west of the city. When I arrived, I stood in a daze. So many years had passed, yet this place hadn't been demolished. Still broken. Still shabby. The ground slick with sewage and refuse, a chaotic web of electrical wires choking the sky above the narrow alleys. I stopped in front of a gray, dingy building. For a moment, my courage failed me. The top floor. The sixth floor. That was where Amy and I lived after graduation. We called that place home for three full years.

We were fresh graduates with barely a penny to our names. I was hell-bent on starting a business, and Amy did everything she could to support me. In the beginning, the business was a money pit. Amy worked two day jobs and washed dishes at a restaurant by night. We lived in the grime and chaos of the tenements simply to survive. Why the top floor? Because it was the cheapest—$100 less than the fifth floor. I hated watching her climb those six flights of stairs every day. I wanted to cut costs elsewhere to get her a better place. But my girl just smiled and waved off my concern. "Living is living, isn't it? It's only $300 a month. You need capital right now. If we can save, we save." "Don't feel sorry for me. Think of this as an investment. When you strike it rich, you can pay me back a thousandfold." "Don't look at this place like it's a prison. Believe me—I won't let myself suffer." Later, that tiny, three-hundred-square-foot studio became our sanctuary. Warm, cute bedding. Floors scrubbed spotless. A plastic bottle repurposed as a vase, always holding fresh flowers on the small dining table. Amy had her own ways of showing me how much she loved our home. How much she loved me. Suddenly, the diary vibrated in my hands. I flipped it open fast. A new line of text appeared. *"Old Dominic, let me ask you: did you buy Amy a big house? Did we find a better home?"* Tears splashed onto the paper. My hand trembled as I wrote my reply. *"I bought it. The most exclusive community in River City. The penthouse in the King's Tower."* Across time, the other Dominic seemed to sigh in relief. The handwriting that followed became wild, almost ecstatic. *"Hahaha, that's right! My girl is the best girl in the whole world."* *"She deserves the best of everything!"* *Thwack!* Something heavy smashed into the back of my head. A furious voice exploded behind me. "Dominic Delgado, you scum!" "What right do you have to be here?"