Scars That Stay
[📘 Content Warning:
This story contains Boys’ Love (BL) themes. Reader discretion is advised. Please read the disclaimers mentioned in the Instagram post.]
For a long moment, no one spoke.
The stillness in the room was heavy… thick like storm air just before it breaks.
Zhan sat there unmoving, his hands limp on his lap, his eyes still glazed with the truth that had just shattered the foundation of his past and his trust.
Then Liu Fang’s voice cracked softly into the silence.
“…The night you came home soaking wet, the night you met him…”
Her voice faltered.
She clasped her trembling hands together as if to keep them from falling apart.
“At first, we didn’t understand what had happened. But then… Yibo texted your Baba that night. He just wrote… it’s done. He said it’s sorted. And not to worry anymore.”
Saying this, she took Xiao Guoqiang’s phone, opened the message, and handed it to Zhan.
Zhan took the phone with a trembling hand, his eyes scanning the words again and again.
Uncle, I have kept my word. You don’t have to worry about Zhan-ge anymore.
Zhan’s heart skipped a beat.
His breath caught in his chest.
And then, like floodgates snapping open… memories came rushing in.
That evening near the riverside.
The storm.
The words.
Yibo’s eyes that refused to meet his.
The way he had spoken, voice clipped, sharp, distant, cold… foreign.
The way he’d broken Zhan’s heart without even blinking.
But now—
Now… Zhan saw it for what it was.
Those words weren’t Yibo’s.
Those words… had been placed in his hands by Zhan’s own parents, like a knife Yibo was forced to use, and he’d made sure it cut deep.
He looked at his mother, his voice trembling as it left him.
“How…? how could you do this to me, Ma?”
Liu Fang flinched at the softness of his voice… it hurt more than if he had shouted.
“You saw me back then. You saw what I was going through. I was… I was crumbling every single day, and still… you both stayed quiet?”
He looked at her, the betrayal etched clear in his face, his eyes clouded with disbelief.
“You have no idea…”
Zhan’s voice broke.
“How much courage he must have gathered just to come and meet me that day… how he must’ve turned his own heart into stone just to say those things to me.”
His lips twisted bitterly, eyes clouded with hurt.
“Just to take all the blame. Just to make himself the wrong one in my eyes. And still… he never mentioned your name. Not that day, not once. Not in all these six years.”
Liu Fang couldn’t meet his gaze.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head as tears slipped down her cheeks.
She looked so small now, hunched in the grief of her choices.
Zhan turned his gaze to Xiao Guoqiang, his eyes blazing through the shimmer of tears.
“Ba… how could you even think of saying all that to him? You knew exactly what he was living through in his own house, how his father’s words tore him down every single day, made him feel like he was a mistake, like he was something that needed to be fixed. And you… you went and made it worse.”
His breath shaking.
“I kept reassuring him, again and again, giving him strength, telling him he wasn’t a mistake… that what we had wasn’t wrong. I was the one holding him together.”
His hands curled slowly into fists, trembling against his knees.
“And in just one day… one meeting, you managed to crush everything we had… destroyed it all. You buried him deeper in pain when he was already drowning in it.”
Xiao Guoqiang’s gaze shifted away, unable to meet Zhan’s.
Zhan’s voice rose before he could stop it, his pain cracking through it.
“You stabbed me in the back. Both of you. The people I trusted the most in my whole life.”
His chest heaved, eyes blazing with betrayal and anger.
“And what made you think that if I left and started over somewhere new… I’d forget him?”
He laughed bitterly, a sharp exhale laced with despair.
“How did you even decide that for me?”
His voice dropped, choked and raw.
“In these six years… not one day passed where I didn’t think about him… not one.”
He pulled off his glasses with a trembling hand, wiped the tears away with the heel of his palm, but they just kept coming.
“When I adopted Zeyu, I made sure he grew up knowing Yibo. I told him stories, showed him photos. His name was never a stranger. Because Yibo never left. Not my life. Not my heart.”
A pause.
“And so, I made sure my son knew him too, even if he was never with us. I wanted Zeyu to be familiar with his face, his name… with the person he is. Because someone you love that much… you don’t just erase.”
He looked up, eyes red and swollen.
“I never thought in my worst nightmares that you guys would betray me like this. If you had a problem, you should’ve come to me, told me you couldn’t accept our relationship. Not gone to him. Especially not when you knew he was already going through so much back then.”
Liu Fang sobbed into her hands.
Yue stood at the doorway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Anger and sadness churned in her, twisting her expression.
But then… something clicked.
Her eyes sharpened, locking onto Liu Fang.
“Ma, is this the reason Bo-ge…?”
She asked, her voice cutting through the air.
Liu Fang didn’t answer.
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
Yue’s breath caught.
“Oh my god…!”
Zhan’s head snapped toward her.
“What is it, Yue? Tell me.”
She looked at him, tears streaming freely now, then turned her gaze on their parents.
Her voice trembled, hard with accusation.
“Let them answer you, ge. They owe you that. They’re the ones who should say it.”
Zhan’s eyes swung back to his parents, sharp and unyielding.
“What is it?! What else are you hiding from me?”
Liu Fang flinched, unable to meet his gaze.
“Ma…”
His voice dropped low, dangerous.
“My patience is running thin. Don’t push it.”
Her lips trembled before she finally spoke, each word weighted with hesitation.
“The night you left… after midnight… we got a call from his mother.”
Zhan’s eyes narrowed, fixed on her.
“Why?”
She hesitated, glancing at Xiao Guoqiang as if for help, then forced the words out.
“Yibo… he… he tried to do something that night.”
A cold rush went through Zhan, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
“What did he do, Ma?!”
His voice trembled, caught between rage and fear.
Liu Fang’s hands flew to her mouth as sobs broke free.
“I’m asking you! What is it?! Answer me!”
His voice cracked, straining to hold the storm inside him… anger pressing to break free and fear twisting tight in his chest, as if he already feared what he was about to hear.
Liu Fang’s next words came out barely a whisper.
“Yibo… that night, he… he tried to… take… take his own life… he… he cut his wrist.”
The room went utterly still, the words hanging in the air like a blade.
Zhan’s breath left him in a sharp, strangled gasp.
The phone slipped from his hand, clattering against the floor.
He staggered forward, then stumbled back, clutching the chair as though the ground itself had vanished beneath him.
His chest heaved, lungs refusing to draw a full breath.
Hot tears flooded his vision, spilling down his face unchecked.
His lips parted, quivering, the words choking out of him.
“Wh—what did you just say?!”
His voice cracked into a broken shout, hollow with disbelief, raw with terror.
“Tell me… just… say it again, Ma… what did you just say?!”
His eyes were wide, wild with panic, as if forcing her to repeat it might somehow change the truth.
Liu Fang wept harder.
“Zhan, we never thought… never imagined he would do something like that. We were already drowning in guilt, and then his mother called that night… shouting, crying, screaming at us. We… we were devastated. We liked Yibo. We did. But…”
Yue’s voice cut in, trembling with fury.
“Bo-ge was already on the edge, and you guys gave him the final push.”
Xiao Guoqiang coughed, a painful rattle echoing in his chest.
He lifted his head slowly, voice raspy but steady.
“We only wanted you to have a good life, Zhan. For him too. But maybe… maybe we were wrong.”
He paused, his eyes closing for a brief second, as if he was swallowing his own shame.
“Every time we talked to you on the phone… every time we saw your smile fade over the years… we carried that guilt. It never left. It haunted us. We—”
His voice cracked.
“We became the reason our son stopped smiling or being happy.”
Xiao Guoqiang’s voice was low, almost hoarse.
“After a point, we started thinking… maybe it would have been better to stand by you both and fight the world, instead of living with the guilt of tearing you two apart. That guilt has been eating us alive every single day. But by the time we realized it, it was too late, Zhan.”
He looked at his son with tired, regretful eyes.
“Maybe God kept me alive just long enough to tell you the truth… so I could beg for your forgiveness. And if you can find it in your heart to give it, maybe then I can rest in peace. Forgive us, Zhan, if it’s possible… we were wrong. We let the fear of the world and what people would say cloud our judgment… and in doing so, we blinded ourselves to our own son’s happiness.”
Zhan couldn’t take any more.
It was as if his ears had gone deaf after his mother’s words about what Yibo did that night… he didn’t hear anything else.
His chest was a storm, every breath ragged and heavy.
He didn’t say a word… just turned back and walked, his movements stiff, like his limbs no longer belonged to him.
“We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Liu Fang called after him, her voice trembling, chasing him as he walked away.
“Zhan… please… don’t hate us. We were selfish… yes, but only because we were scared. Zhan, please try to understand. Zhan…”
Zhan couldn’t say another word.
His throat was tight, lungs constricted.
His mother’s sobs filled the space behind him.
He walked out of the room without looking back.
Behind him, Liu Fang and Xiao Guoqiang sat in silence, the weight of their confession hanging between them like a noose.
Yue stood there for a moment, still unable to believe anything she had just heard, then slowly walked to her room.
And in the distance, Zeyu’s innocent giggles echoed from the living room… a cruel contrast to the ruins left behind.
——————————————-
Night fell quietly, like a soft blanket over the house.
Outside the windows, the world had gone still… crickets chirped in the silence, and distant car horns were muffled in the dark.
Zhan didn’t join them for dinner.
His mother came to call him twice, but he didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
Yue fed Zeyu, gently coaxing the boy into eating his rice with stories and silly voices.
Afterward, she tucked Zeyu into bed, smoothing the blanket over his small body.
Her fingers lingered, brushing his hair back from his damp forehead before pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
The boy’s lashes fluttered, heavy with sleep, but his eyes still followed her as if clinging to her presence.
When she finally straightened, her gaze shifted toward Zhan.
He sat at the edge of the bed, shoulders slightly hunched, staring into nothing.
Silence wrapped around him like a second skin.
“Ge…”
Yue’s voice was gentle, tentative.
Zhan turned his head toward her, his eyes weary, rimmed with shadows.
“I found out about Bo-ge a little late.”
She admitted, her hands knotting together nervously in front of her.
“I wanted to tell you, but the last time we spoke, you said you didn’t want to talk about him. So… I kept quiet.”
Zhan gave a small nod, his voice low.
“It’s okay, Yue.”
She hesitated, chewing her lip.
“I tried contacting Bo-ge many times. But… he never responded.”
Zhan said nothing this time, only drew in a slow breath and looked back at the boy curled up under the blanket.
Her voice softened further.
“Ge… are you very angry with Ma and Ba?”
Zhan finally lifted his gaze to her.
His eyes glistened faintly, his jaw tight.
“I don’t know, Yue. It’s not just anger. It’s… I feel so betrayed.”
Yue nodded, sadness pulling at her expression.
“I can understand that, Ge. But I noticed changes in them over the years. They’ve never been happy with what they did. I always used to wonder why they carried so much worry in their eyes. Why they seemed… weighed down all the time.”
Zhan dragged in a long, heavy breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of it.
After a moment, Yue asked softly.
“Ge… are you going to meet Bo-ge now?”
Zhan swallowed hard before answering, his voice steadier than his eyes.
“Yue, life isn’t a scripted movie where reconciliations and happy endings just fall into place. Six years… it feels like a lifetime. Nothing is the same anymore… everything has changed.”
His face tightened, a bitter curve pulling at his lips.
“I was never reckless. I’ve never acted without thinking. And now… I’m not alone. I have a son. Every decision I make is tied to him too.”
His eyes flicked briefly to Zeyu, then back to Yue.
The silence in the room seemed to deepen, pressing around them.
“And if I think about what my parents did to me… and what Yibo did to me…”
Zhan went on, his voice raw.
“…both cut me the same way. Both hurt me. Both betrayed me. None of them trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”
He clenched his fists loosely in his lap, staring down at them.
“Yibo made his decision alone. He left me without once telling me the truth. He kept the one promise he made to my father, but in doing that, he broke every promise he made to me. He had six years, Yue. Six years… and he still chose silence.”
His eyes lifted to hers, dark with anguish.
“So tell me… who’s better here? Who’s worse? My parents and him… both found their own ways to hurt me, the deepest ways they could. And nobody will ever understand it… not unless they stand where I’m standing now, feeling what I’m feeling.”
His gaze dropped, heavy with pain he couldn’t hide.
“My parents tried to erase him from my life… but fate was cruel. I adopted a boy, and as I watched him grow, I realized… he’s nothing but Yibo. A smaller version of him, living proof that I can never escape what they tried so hard to bury. Every single day, Yue… he reminds me of the one I lost.”
Yue’s lips parted, but no words came.
Her throat worked as she tried to speak, then fell silent, because there was no answer she could give.
On the bed, Zeyu’s eyes blinked open, small and confused, his young mind unable to follow the weight of the conversation.
But Zhan felt those innocent eyes on him, watching, searching.
He forced himself to soften his expression, just a little, for the boy’s sake.
“It’s okay.”
He said finally, his voice dropping to something almost weary.
Yue stepped closer, her own voice steady but warm.
“Give it time, ge. The answers will come. And maybe… maybe you should hear Bo-ge’s side too, before you decide anything.”
Zhan’s lips pressed into a line, but he gave a slow nod.
Yue touched his arm lightly, offering a small smile.
“Good night, Ge.”
Then she slipped quietly from the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaving Zhan in the dim light with his son’s steady breathing and the storm inside his chest.
Zeyu lay curled beneath the soft dinosaur blanket, his tiny body warm and clean, still smelling faintly of the strawberry shampoo Yue used for him.
He’s gently clutching his stuffed bunny and lion to his chest.
Zhan sat beside him, one leg tucked under himself, the other hanging off the bed.
His palm moved rhythmically over Zeyu’s chest, patting slowly, a familiar lullaby of touch.
Zeyu blinked sleepily at first… but then his little voice broke the quiet.
“Baba…”
Zhan looked down, brushing a stray hair from Zeyu’s cheek.
“Hmm?”
Zeyu’s big, blue eyes peered up at him, still full of innocence.
“Was Grandpa and Yue-aunt… talking about…”
His gaze searched Zhan’s face, as if needing confirmation of the name in his little heart.
“mmm …Pa?”
Zhan froze for a heartbeat, the words catching in his throat.
He swallowed.
“Yes, Baobei…”
He said softly.
“They were talking about your Papa.”
Zeyu rolled onto his side toward Zhan, tiny hands clasped to his chest, the stuffed toys slipping gently from his loose, sleepy grip.
“What did they say, Baba? Did they say when Pa will come home to see us?”
Zhan’s heart twisted.
The room felt colder all of a sudden, despite the warmth of Zeyu’s little body next to him.
That innocent question asked with so much hope… was like a blade to Zhan’s chest.
He tried to smile, but his lips trembled.
“No, baobei…”
He whispered, brushing his fingers through Zeyu’s hair.
“Your Pa is not coming to see us.”
Zeyu blinked, confused.
His brows scrunched like he was trying to understand something far too big for his little mind.
“Why not, Baba? Is he angry? Is he sad?”
Zhan opened his mouth, but no sound came.
His throat ached.
Zeyu’s small hand tugged at Zhan’s shirt.
“Maybe… we can give him chocolate? I can share mine. And he can be happy again.”
Zhan choked on a soft laugh through his tears.
“And…”
Zeyu reached over to his bedside drawer and pulled out a small red toy car… his favorite.
He held it up with a sleepy smile.
“He can have my car too. I don’t mind. Maybe… that will work Baba?”
Zhan couldn’t take it anymore.
He leaned down and pulled Zeyu into his arms, hugging him tightly…
So tightly it almost felt like he was trying to hold the pieces of himself together through his son’s warmth.
Zeyu didn’t protest.
He rested his head on Zhan’s shoulder, tiny fingers curling into his shirt.
Zhan’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, as tears rolled down his cheek.
“I don’t know, baobei… I really don’t know how to bring your Papa back.”
He kissed the side of Zeyu’s head.
“If I could, I’d bring him back to you right now.”
Zeyu’s little face crumpled, sadness filling his eyes at the sight of Zhan’s tears.
His tiny hands reached up to cup Zhan’s face, wiping away the tears with a soft, clumsy touch.
“It’s okay, Baba. I’ll pray to God. God will hear me… and then God can tell Pa to come back. Okay?”
He whispered.
“Please, don’t cry, Baba. One day Pa will come to see us.”
Zhan nodded, holding those little hands tight against his chest, unwilling to let go.
Zeyu drifted into sleep, safe in his arms, but Zhan sat unmoving, his body shaking with grief he could not voice.
The night stretched endlessly around them, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths and the quiet fall of his tears.
And as his heart cracked open all over again, he knew this pain would not leave him… not tonight, not tomorrow, not after all the years already lost.
[To be continued…]
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Author’s Note:
Heyyy, you made it to the end of the chapter! 😊
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Think of it as your way of telling me, “Hey, I’m here, and I loved it!” — it means the world to me and truly keeps me inspired to write more for you! ✨
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