He said he was attending an international conference, and promised me a grand wedding when he got back.

But I waited a full ten years, only for him to ask, "I'm sorry... do we know each other?"

Watching the man in front of me meticulously placing food on my plate, I started to seriously wonder, 'Maybe I should just keep the kid and ditch the dad?'

1

I don't know when it started, but I've been having the same dream over and over. In the dream, I'm also an orphan. I meet Quinn Shepherd by chance in the winter, we fall in love by summer, and we walk hand in hand through countless days and nights.

He'd wait for me after work in the biting cold wind, and he'd bring me an umbrella in the middle of a downpour.

Then, he told me he had to go on a business trip, promising a grand wedding upon his return.

But the me in the dream waited for ten agonizing years, only to be met with his question, "I'm sorry... do we know each other?"

Too proud to break down, I quickly took my daughter's hand and left.

The next time I heard news of him, I was lying in a hospital bed as the TV announced his engagement.

In the end, I died, filled with bitter resentment.

Everything in the dream was so vivid, but I refused to believe it. It all felt too absurd.

After all, my real life was the complete opposite of my dream self's.

We've been married for five years, and my husband is as wonderful to me as ever. He always seems to show up just in the nick of time, right before any mishap. Our daughter, meanwhile, is brilliant and adorable.

But the indifferent look in the dream Quinn Shepherd's eyes still left me feeling unsettled.

"Honey, what's wrong? Is your blood sugar acting up?" My husband took my cold hand, and the warmth from his touch instantly chased away the chill in my heart.

"Is Mommy sick? Daddy made your favorite soft-yolk eggs! If you eat them, you won't be sick anymore." I looked at my four-year-old daughter. 'I'm just overthinking things.' Other than being a little brighter than other kids, she was the very picture of a little girl raised in a honey pot. How could she possibly be the timid, pitiful thing from my dream who didn't even dare to speak up?

'There's no way anything from that dream could ever happen in real life.'

2

Whenever my friends and I get together and talk about our families, they always say I've hit the jackpot in life—the kind of person who must have saved the galaxy in a past life. Sometimes, I think so too.

Quinn Shepherd and I met in high school when he, impeccably dressed, came to my poor, small county to volunteer as a teacher.

Back then, I was like a dry sponge, frantically soaking up new knowledge. I yearned for the bustling cities he described, wanting to see a much wider world for myself.

I'd often run to him and ask for interesting stories about the world outside our county.

Perhaps it was because the longing in my eyes was so intense that he was willing to patiently answer all my questions.

He often encouraged me, saying, "You can definitely get into the university of your dreams."

Back then, I dreamed of going to the same university as him. I adored this older boy who was so kind to me.

Growing up, no one besides the Orphanage Director had ever praised me like that. I saw him as a beacon, guiding my way forward.

We didn't lose touch after he returned to the big city; he was both a mentor and a friend to me.

Later, I got my wish and was accepted into his university. From there, we naturally fell into a relationship.

He took me home to meet his family right after graduation. There was none of the drama you see on TV, no future mother-in-law looking down on an orphan girl. In his parents' eyes, it was only natural for us to get married.

That's precisely why the recurring dreams, which depicted the exact opposite of my life, felt so unsettling. It was as if some subconscious instinct was telling me not to, so I never mentioned anything about them to my husband.

Instead, I went to my best friend, who works as a psychologist.

My friend guessed that my upbringing likely made me insecure, constantly worrying about losing the people and things I care about. She thought I was afraid that everything I have now is just an illusion and that I'll lose all this happiness.

"You've been under too much stress from work lately," she said. "My advice? Just try to relax for a bit. Spend more time with your family."

I took my friend's advice and gave myself a few days off, using the time to take my daughter to visit Grandma Shepherd's house.

: An Overheard Conversation

3

Strangely enough, my in-laws' house in the dream was identical to their house now. The only difference was that in reality, the three of us didn't live there.

"Lina's back! You finally remembered your old grandma! Mrs. Lowe, get my dear granddaughter her favorite Osmanthus Cakes!"

Watching the heartwarming scene between grandmother and granddaughter, my mind couldn't help but drift back to the dream.

Mrs. Shepherd in my dream was nothing like the kind, gentle woman she was now. In the dream, her face was cold as she ordered the house staff to shove me and the infant Lina out the door. Mrs. Lowe kept muttering things like, "Some country bumpkin thought she could marry up!" I vividly remember how vicious Mrs. Lowe looked in the dream, just like the Needle Matron, as if she wanted to tear my daughter and me limb from limb.

I shook my head, as if that could cast out the images from the dream.

I looked at my daughter, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she ate her Osmanthus Cakes, and silently mocked myself for being so paranoid.

"You know, I think Lina will be ready for competitions soon. Her piano skills are already on par with mine," Mrs. Shepherd said, sitting down next to me to chat.

Her words surprised me. Mrs. Shepherd had been quite an accomplished pianist in her youth; I never expected my daughter to have such a talent for it.

When I got home, I excitedly shared the good news with my husband. He froze for a moment when he heard, and his gaze toward our daughter was complicated before he finally started praising her.

'He must be just as shocked by our daughter's talent as I am,' I thought.

That night, I had the dream again. In it, Lina was standing on an awards stage, her eyes scanning the audience, searching for someone. In the end, she just looked up at the ceiling, a lonely expression on her face. Yet, for some reason, I knew with absolute certainty that she was fighting back tears.

I didn't know if the person she was looking for ever showed up. I guessed she desperately wanted to share her joy with someone important to her.

In the following days, after a few heart-to-hearts with my best friend, I stopped overthinking the dream, even though it kept recurring. I just started treating it like a movie that hadn't reached its conclusion yet.

As the old saying goes, dreams are the opposite of reality. Overthinking it wouldn't help. Living in the moment was my motto.

One day, my low blood sugar acted up, so I left work early to go home and rest.

No one was in the living room. I collapsed onto the sofa, and a wave of exhaustion hit me. I was out almost instantly. In the haze of sleep, I heard the voices of my husband and daughter talking.

"Lina, this time next week, you have to stick close to your mom... car..." Their voices were too muffled for me to hear clearly.

"You... piano... much better than a beginner's level..."

"But I want... to enter the competition sooner, I want Mom to see... me accept the award on stage..."

Their voices grew fainter as they went upstairs.

I lifted my head and looked toward the stairs, just in time to see my husband leading our daughter up by the hand.

The sofa I was on was facing away from them, so neither of them had noticed me.

As I watched their figures disappear around the corner, their words echoed in my mind.

Doesn't Lina have school next week? Why would my husband tell her to stick with me instead of going to school?

Or maybe Lina was starting to resist going to school? If that was the case, she would definitely need some guidance. I wasn't as busy as my husband, so it would make sense for me to look after her.

'I'll just ask him about it later,' I thought.