Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs".

I've been working here for three or four years, and because my relationship with N has never been public, my colleagues in the department and even the company assume I'm single. I've been introduced to countless people, including Sister L—today's protagonist. Sister L is very fashionable, practically the trendsetter in our company. Although she's half a year older than me, she looks four or five years younger. She's from a wealthy family, an only child. Her parents own a row of shops and live in a townhouse. She comes to work mainly for the job. Her husband works for a tobacco company; he's well-off and very handsome. Everyone says they're a perfect match. When I first reported to the company, I didn't see her because she was on maternity leave. Yes, I didn't miswrite, and you didn't misread—she has a well-behaved child.

Our department is considered important in the company, with many people, but only about five or six people really stick together. Because we love to travel, we often spend weekends exploring nearby attractions, jokingly calling our group the "Travel Squad." Yes, she and I are both in this squad. The atmosphere in the team was great; we often took turns hosting meals. Because I was the youngest and newest, everyone took good care of me. One weekend, on the way back from the scenic area, she said, "I'm getting a divorce." Her voice was soft, but it came out like a thunderclap. I tried to calm her down, reminding her that the child wasn't even a year old yet, and there shouldn't be any irreconcilable conflicts between the couple. She didn't say anything,

and the car fell into a deathly silence. Not long after, I heard that she really had gotten a divorce, and the child stayed with her. But this didn't seem to affect her mood much; the team continued as usual. Through our interactions over time, we grew closer, but I never had any ulterior motives. She would help me analyze what kind of girls I was going to meet on blind dates were suitable for me, and she would even buy me clothes and tell me to dress smartly for my blind dates. In return, I often treated her to meals and movies, which she readily accepted. Gradually, I felt a strange, inexplicable affection developing for her. Adding to this, my friends teased me, saying that since I hadn't found a suitable girlfriend in so long (my colleagues at work didn't know about my relationships with N and W), I should just get together with L. I laughed shyly, and she just playfully scolded me, not getting angry. It seemed we were both very cautious about this relationship.

Once, at her best friend's birthday party, when she led me into the private room, her friends erupted in cheers, but she blushed and desperately tried to explain that I was her younger brother. But it was all in vain; her best friend assumed I was her boyfriend from that moment on, even though we both vehemently denied it. One summer, her friends planned a shopping trip to South Africa to buy the latest cosmetics and bags. I happened to be on annual leave and wanted to go to the Maldives, a place I'd longed to visit for a long time. After much hesitation, she ultimately abandoned her friends and chose a trip for two with me.

On that beautiful island, I half-jokingly told her that I would meet my parents after the trip. Actually, I was under a lot of pressure because my parents are very strict about my partner. L is divorced and has a child, which would probably give my dad a stroke. Thankfully, she refused, saying she didn't want to go through something so ambiguous. For several days, we slept in separate beds, until the last night before returning home. She jokingly said to me, "If you don't come over tonight, you'll miss your chance!" Could any man resist that? I climbed into her bed, but then instantly calmed down. I knew what sleeping with her meant. I hesitated, patted her head, and said "Goodnight."

Back at work, her image filled my mind. Because L and I were on leave at the same time, some gossip enthusiasts in the department caught wind of something, and rumors started circulating. She told a mutual friend, "I don't want to be a secret lover; I just want to be open about it." I understood. I carefully prepared a bouquet of flowers, wrote a bold two-thousand-word love letter, and nervously handed it to her downstairs at her apartment building. I waited until 2 a.m. for her message, a long message, the gist of which I don't remember: she was very touched, but as a mother, accepting my love as a single man was a lot of pressure, and she wasn't sure if my feelings for her would last, or if I could give my love to her and her child from her ex-husband. I took this reply as a rejection and felt deceived. Then, I immediately accepted a confession from a blind date and announced it publicly on my social media. Yes, this person is my soon-to-be fiancée—C. I know this isn't fair to C; I chose her out of impulse and revenge, and she knew nothing of it.

L and I became like strangers; I didn't know how to face her. She acted as if nothing had happened, but she cried for two whole weeks—of course, I only found out later. At the time, I was immersed in my new relationship and couldn't spare a moment for anything else. Because C was tall, beautiful, and young, and most importantly, from a modest family with very modest spending habits—a cheap handbag from a street vendor could make her happy all day—while L, on the other hand, frequently bought Hermes bags costing tens of thousands of yuan, which clashed with my spending habits.

After dating C for over a year, we finally had our first time together late at night in the InterContinental Hotel. C was a virgin, the first virgin I'd ever met, so after that night, I cherished her immensely. Our relationship blossomed, and now we were getting engaged. L, knowing this, asked me to meet her that evening. She was still as fashionable as ever, wearing high heels that clicked loudly on the empty street. We were silent for a long time. "Is there any chance for us?" she finally couldn't hold back anymore. I silently shook my head. She broke down, crying so hard her makeup was ruined. I held her in my arms, but could only keep saying "I'm sorry"... Late that night, L sent me a song by JJ Lin—"Unfortunately, No Ifs." The lyrics perfectly encapsulated our story. If I hadn't been swayed by my emotions that day, what would you have done? If I had known you sooner, with your free spirit, or if I had met you later, with my maturity… Did I love Sister L? Yes! I cried my heart out for her, unable to sleep night after night. But I'm a very cowardly person. I didn't dare disobey my parents, didn't dare challenge societal norms, didn't dare tell her I loved her. I mustered the courage to overcome all of this, but she hesitated. And when she tried to win her back, it was already too late.

[The End]

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Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs".

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