Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian hums softly as he cooks, the sound drifting through the quiet apartment like a promise he’s afraid to name.
It has been almost six months.
Six months since Lan Wangji left to Japan for work. Six months of phone calls twice a week, the occasional video call that never lasts long enough. Six months of pretending that distance is temporary, that silence does not mean absence.
Tonight, he’s coming home.
Wei Wuxian stirs the soup, smiling to himself. Things have changed between them—he’s not blind to that. They’ve been changing for years now. But marriage is not meant to be easy. Thirteen years together has taught him that love requires patience, compromise, forgiveness.
They can still fix this.
They can still talk.
The sound of the front door opening pulls him out of his thoughts.
“Lan Zhan?” he calls, wiping his hands on a towel.
Lan Wangji steps inside, suitcase in hand, posture straight as ever. He looks the same—sharp, composed, distant. Yet something feels… off.
Wei Wuxian walks over and greets him with a bright smile, wrapping his arms around him in a familiar embrace. Lan Wangji returns it, but only briefly. His body is stiff. Distracted. His mind clearly elsewhere.
Wei Wuxian’s smile falters for just a second.
“You must be tired,” he says lightly. “Go freshen up. Dinner’s almost ready. We can eat and talk properly.”
Lan Wangji nods and heads upstairs without a word.
Dinner passes quietly.
Too quietly.
They sit across from each other at the table they once filled with laughter, with arguments, with late-night conversations that stretched into dawn. Wei Wuxian talks enough for both of them—about work, about small things, about nothing important at all. Lan Wangji listens, responds when required, but his eyes never linger.
Afterward, they move to the living room with tea.
Wei Wuxian curls into his usual spot, cup warm between his hands, still talking. He talks because silence feels dangerous. Because silence has learned how to hurt him.
Finally, he asks casually, “So… how long are you staying this time?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer.
Wei Wuxian continues, forcing a light tone. “Did you finish the project already? Or will you have to go back to Japan again?”
Lan Wangji stares at his tea for a long moment.
Then he lifts his head.
“I’m not going back to Japan,” he says, his voice calm. Cold.
Relief flickers in Wei Wuxian’s chest—only to die instantly when Lan Wangji continues.
“The project is finished. But I’m not staying here.”
The words land softly.
And still—
they shatter everything.
Wei Wuxian freezes.
For a moment, he says nothing. He breathes in slowly, carefully, like someone holding together something already cracked beyond repair.
“Why?” he asks at last, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest.
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer.
Instead, he stands and walks upstairs. Wei Wuxian listens to his footsteps, each one heavy, final. When Lan Wangji returns, he’s holding an envelope.
He sits back down and places it on the table between them.
Wei Wuxian reaches for it with trembling hands. He opens the folder, his eyes scanning the pages quickly—too quickly, as if reading them faster might make them less real.
Divorce papers.
His expression doesn’t change much. But his eyes do. Something inside them dims, quietly.
He closes the folder and places it carefully on the coffee table.
Then he looks at Lan Wangji.
“So,” Wei Wuxian says softly, his voice carrying a thousand unspoken emotions, “you’re finally being honest.”
He smiles.
“I’m happy.”
Lan Wangji stiffens.
“How long?” Wei Wuxian asks. “How long have you been planning this?”
“…Quite some time,” Lan Wangji replies.
“Why now?”
Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating.
“I can’t do this anymore, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says at last. “I want a normal life. I can’t keep pretending I’m happy here.”
The words tighten around Wei Wuxian’s heart.
Lan Wangji isn’t happy.
Not with him.
Wei Wuxian swallows. “Then tell me,” he says quietly. “What can I do to make you happy?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer.
Understanding settles in slowly, painfully.
“Bring Xuanyu here in this house.” Wei Wuxian says. “I can do that for you.”
Lan Wangji’s eyes widen. “What—”
he starts, but the words don’t come.
Wei Wuxian looks at him calmly. Gently.
“Mo Xuanyu,” he says. “And your children.”
Lan Wangji goes still.
Completely frozen.
He hadn’t expected this. Not from Wei Wuxian.
“How long…?” he manages, his voice strained. “When did you—”
“From the beginning,” Wei Wuxian answers without hesitation.
And just like that—
everything unravels.
😔😔😔
“I thought,” Wei Wuxian said slowly, forcing his voice to stay steady, “you come home because you missed me.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t answer.
That is answer enough.
Wei Wuxian set tea cup down carefully. He doesn’t trust his hands anymore.
Wei Wuxian lifts his eyes. There is no anger in them. Only exhaustion. “You don’t come back for me, do you? You come back for this.”
Silence.
Then, softly, “Yes.”
Something in Wei Wuxian finally loosened.
He laughs once—a short, breathless sound. “I see.”
Lan Wangji looks at him sharply. “Wei Ying—”
“I know,” Wei Wuxian said gently. “I already know.”
Lan Wangji stays silence.
“You don’t have to explain,” Wei Wuxian continued. “You don’t have to justify it. I’ve known for years.”
Wei Wuxian leans back against the sofa, eyes drifting to the window. The city lights outside blurred softly.
“I'm just waiting,” he said. “Waiting for you to tell me yourself.”
The words landed heavily between them.
“I thought,” Wei Wuxian went on, “after everything—after thirteen years—you would at least give me the truth in your own voice.”
Lan Wangji stares at him, disbelief slowly giving way to something far worse.
“You knew,” he whispered.
Wei Wuxian nodded. “Yes, from the beginning.”
From the first absence that felt too intentional.
From the first unfamiliar scent.
From the first time Lan Wangji stopped asking about his day.
“I stayed quiet,” Wei Wuxian said. “Because you are my family. And I don’t want to lose the only home I have left.”
Lan Wangji looked shaken now, his composure finally cracking. “Wei Ying… I—”
Wei Wuxian reaches forward and picked up the folder again.
“You don’t need to say it now,” he said softly. “You’re already here for the ending.”
He opens the papers, scanning them briefly, as if confirming something he has already accepted long ago.
“When you were calling me twice a week,” Wei Wuxian added quietly, “I thought you were still holding on. I guess I was wrong.”
Lan Wangji can’t meet his eyes.
Wei Wuxian closes the folder.
“Let’s finish this properly,” he said, calm as still water. “You’ve already taken enough of my waiting.”
Outside, the city hummed on—unaware that twenty years of love had just ended over tea.