Changes tend to come quickly. At times, they creep up on Tzuyu the same way that Sana silently pads up behind her, throwing her arms around Tzuyu’s shoulders and pleasantly surprising her with the arrival of something or someone long awaited for.  At other times, she lurches at sudden shifts and reels from whiplash, hands grasping out blindly for stability. Occasionally, changes happen so swiftly that she doesn’t even notice, and the realization only dawns upon her in the sillage and settling dust.

Other changes come slowly, perceptible through the soft groaning of impatient gears straining to turn, through the near silent ticking of clocks, through the inching forward of time. It is this kind of change that Tzuyu dreads the most--the inevitability of things falling out of place, whether you want them to or not. She watches for what seems like an impossibly long time as her life changes around her, shifting slowly into something unfamiliar and foreign, leaving too much to be desired. She watches as Sana drifts away from her, their relationship pulling apart at the seams, snapping one thread at a time, ever so delicately and softly. She watches, and curses bitterly.

Perhaps the cruelest aspect of slow and steady change is that Tzuyu always foresees it early on. They have been dating for a while now, and a weariness has settled between them. It penetrates to the bone, too chilling to be ignored, and Tzuyu has felt like Sana’s been slipping away the last few months. But no matter how great an effort she exerts, Tzuyu can neither overcome Sana’s unhappiness, nor the widening rift.

So when Sana proposes a breakup, Tzuyu is unsurprised, having resigned herself to loss and grief long ago. In a way, she finds relief in it, and secretly relishes finally being able to breathe after the inevitable comes to pass. Like a taut string that’s been stretched out to the verge of snapping for far too long, the relaxation leaves her tired and sagging, her body slack and lifeless.

It’s funny: the fracture had happened so gradually, but Sana’s leaving still feels a little sudden, as if the floor beneath her feet has been yanked out. Yesterday she was here, but today she isn’t, and now Tzuyu has no choice but to just take the next step forward.

--
 

As it turns out, Sana’s absence is greater felt. While she had been here, her infectious, bubbly energy coupled with her characteristic high-pitched giggle had signalled her presence, filling up the space of any room and drawing the attention of everyone around her. Now that she is gone, Tzuyu finds herself thinking about Sana even more. It is the negative space left behind where the older girl’s favorite pair of shoes used to sit, framed by Tzuyu’s own sneakers, or where one half of a pair of matching mugs is missing its mate, that reminds Tzuyu of her the most. The separation is gaping and no amount of foresight could have prepared her for the loneliness that blankets her in.

The isolation leaves Tzuyu with a lot of time to think. Her brain fills the void with thoughts and images of what she has lost, and she finds that even after she has left, Sana is still seeping into every aspect of her life, including her classes. It’s a well known story: Orpheus struggling against the final loss of his wife, Eurydice, and Tzuyu’s junior year literature class is discussing this intimate affair, immortalized forever under the scrutiny of students in compulsory education.

Tzuyu can’t help but scoff at the lovers: Orpheus for looking back and Eurydice for still loving him. It’s hard to appreciate the story’s tragic elements when said tragedy could have been so easily avoided. Her classmates don’t seem to share her sentiment, however, and she wonders if her recent breakup has made her too jaded. She doesn’t understand how Eurydice is able to not feel any frustration or anger after dying a second time when they were so close, despite Orpheus having been explicitly told not to look back. She wonders how Eurydice felt, to have been left behind one last time.

Before she can stop herself, her mind races to wonder how Sana felt that day, leaving her behind. She casts the two of them in her own personal reenactment--her as Eurydice, Sana as Orpheus--as she pictures the receding back of her beloved. Fury flares up inside her, but she’s not sure if it's on behalf of Eurydice or more for herself.

The professor brings up excerpts drawn from various other versions of the tale, hoping to spin a new perspective into scope: perhaps Orpheus turning to look back was neither a sign of mortal frailness nor a sign of doubt, but a sign of love instead. He quotes a line from Ovid’s Metamorphoses: “Eurydice, dying now a second time, uttered no complaint against her husband. What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?”

Tzuyu blinks at the thought and frowns, deliberating whether this new addition makes the story more of a tragedy or not. The first interpretation incites anger, but the second leaves behind only a hollowness, sinking into her gut. If Orpheus had looked back in a moment of stupidity or carelessness, it would be so easy to simply channel any frustration and dissatisfaction into his mistake, ing him into the position of a scapegoat. But who could fault Orpheus for merely loving his wife? 

Tzuyu disengages herself from the class and swallows the lump in . She can no longer scorn these lovers. She knows all too well what it feels like to love someone to ruin. The thought carves out a cavity in her chest, extinguishing her earlier rage.

The bell rings, leaving Tzuyu with an unshakeable emptiness and a bitterness in as she ponders a  fleeting question: in this second interpretation, how does Eurydice feel?  

--
 

By some coincidence, Tzuyu finds herself back in Sana’s orbit a few months later. It’s a mundane Thursday afternoon when she finally relents to Nayeon’s pleading for her to accompany her on a double date tomorrow night. Lately, Nayeon has been hitting it off with a girl called Jeongyeon. The two had been paired up as partners in their bio lab, and given how smooth-talking Jeongyeon was, it hadn’t taken long for Nayeon to fall. 

What had taken a long time, however, was Nayeon working up the courage to ask Jeongyeon out on a first date. Which perhaps explained why Nayeon was so desperate for Tzuyu to come along. 

“She’s bringing a friend too, so it’s not like you’ll just be third wheeling” the older girl explains. “I just want you to be there as backup in case it gets awkward, you know?” Nayeon delivers this line nonchalantly, but Tzuyu can tell by the way she’s twirling her hair around her index finger that she’s actually nervous, so she resolves herself to being a good friend and agrees.

It doesn’t occur to her until she steps into the restaurant, trailing a few paces behind Nayeon, that the friend Jeongyeon brings along just might be Sana, but to be fair, she wasn’t even aware they were in the same circle. As fate would have it, however, as Nayeon excitedly waves at a tall blonde girl sitting at a corner table while making her way across the restaurant, Tzuyu spots Minatozaki Sana seated at the same table, whose expression of surprise mirrors her own.

For a second, she panics and debates bailing right then and there, but Nayeon needs her, and Sana has already spotted her and is now giving her a soft smile, and damn if Tzuyu isn’t weak to that smile. So she just nods dumbly in greeting. 

“So,” Sana chirps as Nayeon and Tzuyu sit down. “Nice to finally meet you, Nayeon! Jeongyeon talks about you all the time! I can tell she must really like you,” she adds with a conspiratorial wink. Unfortunately, Sana’s abrupt admission (albeit on Jeongyeon’s behalf) reduces Nayeon to a blushing mess while Jeongyeon splutters in indignance, but fails to say anything meaningful. The conversation dies before it even begins, and Sana seems to realize what she’s done and sheepishly retreats into her seat, opting to glance around the diner in silence. 

This, Tzuyu realizes, is her time to shine. 

“How did the two of you meet?” 

Her question sparks an exchange between the two lovebirds, who launch animatedly into playful banter and corny jokes, and Tzuyu watches as they settle into a comfortable atmosphere while recalling their very first lab together. Her diversion is successful, Tzuyu turns her attention back to Sana, who is now studying her intently from across the table.

Any relief she might have felt from saving Nayeon from an awkward first date quickly evaporates as she struggles to find something, anything, to say to the girl in front of her. Sana is still every bit as beautiful as the day she left, but this time her beauty is haunting.

It’s haunting because she is still in love with her, Tzuyu realizes. She is still in love with Sana, and she’s pretty sure Sana can tell. She has never been able to hide anything when it comes to the other girl--Sana can always see right through her. On the reverse side, however, no matter how carefully she examines Sana’s features--the crinkle of her eyes, the curl of her lip as she smiles--the older girl’s face betrays nothing about her feelings, and Tzuyu has to bite back a question, unspoken since the day they broke up: do you still love me?

Instead, she opts for a safer and arguably better conversation starter: “How have you been?” 

It brings back the nostalgia and emotion that she has kept bottled away for who knows how long, and from the way Sana throws her head back in a short laugh--the way that Tzuyu has always found endearing--she can tell Sana feels the same way. Sana is gentle as she guides them into a conversation that feels almost surreal; they are talking, chatting as if they hadn’t broken up merely a few months prior, as if Tzuyu doesn’t feel her heart ripping out every time she even so much as looks in Sana’s direction. Even more painful is the balloon of hope starting to rise up from the pit of her stomach, pressing against her fragile heart. As she gazes upon Sana’s smile for the first time in months, Tzuyu finds herself at a loss for what to say, how to feel. One part of her is scared to be anything other than satisfied with what they have just now begun to rebuild, with this easy but shallow friendship that Nayeon and Jeongyeon have so conveniently plopped into her lap. It would be so simple to reach for this low-hanging fruit.

But Tzuyu is nothing if not tall, and part of her pushes for her to strive for something deeper than a simple friendship, unique only to the two of them. This is what she truly wants: to be special to Sana. It doesn’t have to be romantic, Tzuyu thinks to herself. Just for the two of them to be intricately entwined enough in each other’s lives such that if Tzuyu were to disappear from Sana’s life, the other girl  would have no choice but to feel it.

Tzuyu wishes her absence was greater felt.

By now, Sana has merged their talking with Nayeon and Jeongyeon’s chatting, and the three of them are animatedly discussing some movie that she hasn’t watched. Tzuyu occasionally throws out nods and affirmative murmurs to keep herself in the conversation as she feels her mind start to go down another rabbit hole.

She permits herself to daydream--surely she can permit herself this one night of fantasy-- and wonders if this is what a real double date would feel like if she and Sana were still together.  The mood is nice, and the food is delicious, and Sana is looking at her so warmly that if she really, really tries, Tzuyu thinks that she can forget for the evening that Sana is, in fact, her ex-girlfriend, whom she is not quite over yet. 

Sana’s presence is cozy and reminiscent of home, something that Tzuyu hasn’t realized that she’s been missing. It’s not surprising, however, and she notes that the apartment that they used to share hasn’t really felt the same ever since Sana’s leaving. In the beginning, Tzuyu had always preferred to keep things tidy, and her place had about the same amount of homeyness as a pristine surgical ward. After Sana had moved in, a small amount of added clutter--clothes strewn here and there, another set of dishes in the sink, too many shoes to fit by the doorway--had made the apartment finally look lived in. Tzuyu had needed to shift her belongings aside to make room for Sana’s, but she hadn’t moved them back after the breakup. Even now, the silhouette of where Sana used to be forms ghosts in Tzuyu’s mind.

Nayeon eventually shakes her out of her reverie, and she blinks a few times to see that dinner has long been over and that everyone is getting up to leave. Sana is staring at her with an expression she cannot decipher.

They exit the diner, and Tzuyu takes advantage of the cool night air to clear her head. The four of them walk to the end of the block, where their paths split. Jeongyeon nudges Nayeon gently and whispers something into the other girl’s ear, and Nayeon’s face breaks into a radiant smile. 

“Jeongyeon and I are gonna go for some drinks, you guys wanna come?” Nayeon’s face is hopeful, and Tzuyu prays that she’s interpreted that hope correctly as she politely declines.

“No thanks, I’ve got a paper due tomorrow, so I should probably head back. You guys have fun though.” She wants to give Nayeon and Jeongyeon a chance to be alone tonight, and Nayeon’s thankful smile confirms once again that Tzuyu is quite possibly the most helpful wingwoman ever.

She watches as the couple strolls off into the night, Nayeon latched onto Jeongyeon’s arm, looking up at the taller girl with adoration, while Jeongyeon reciprocates by smiling down at Nayeon with equal affection. Tzuyu does her best to suppress the envy that arises from the sight of the happy couple before turning to address the girl beside her. 

“It was nice to see you again,” she offers sincerely. 

“Yeah,” Sana says warmly. “I had a lot of fun tonight. I’ll see you around?” Tzuyu gives an awkward nod as Sana turns on her heels, tossing a wave over her shoulder as she starts to walk away. “Good night, Tzuyu.” She’s about ten feet away when it finally dawns on Tzuyu that Sana is leaving, for the second time. The fear that she may not ever see Sana again flits through her mind and panic washes over her, wresting control. Before she can stop herself, Tzuyu finds herself lunging forward to grab Sana’s wrist.

“Wait!” Sana is now looking back at her in a mix of surprise and curiosity, and she feels go dry, but she barrels on anyway. There is something she absolutely needs to ask. “Do you--”

But she cannot finish it. She can’t bring herself to say it. 

Do you want to try again? The unspoken words eat at her from the inside, and a flurry of unanswered questions that she has long anguished over swirls around in her mind, bringing about fresh torment.  Do you still love me? Do you ever think about me? I still think about you, all the time. 

Sana stiffens in her grasp, and Tzuyu recognizes a new emotion in Sana’s eyes. The curiosity has been replaced by hesitation and apprehension, and Tzuyu realizes that Sana has been anticipating this question all night. Uncharacteristically, however, she has not said anything about it. 

There is no straight refusal, which is unusual for Sana, because Sana is the type to flat-out reject the things that she doesn’t like. Although she is sweet, she doesn’t mince words, and Tzuyu makes her penultimate realization of the night: the lack of rejection signifies that Sana is willing to get back together. 

How can you even begin to explain the burst of emotion that such a realization brings? There is a brief moment of soaring exhilaration, and Tzuyu is overjoyed at the prospect of being with Sana again. But just as quickly, she comes crashing down, because truthfully, in the recesses of her heart, she is aware that Sana is deeply unhappy when they are together, and that is something Tzuyu cannot fix. And yet, even at the expense of her own happiness, Sana still loves Tzuyu enough in her own way to want to avoid hurting her for the second time. She would sacrifice herself for Tzuyu’s sake.

Her heart swells with this revelation before giving way to heartache. 

Tzuyu is not selfish enough to tether Sana down for her own happiness. Their time together was limited from the start and comes to a head as Tzuyu lets go of Sana’s wrist, mumbling a “never mind.” She doesn’t miss the grateful smile that Sana gives her as a final farewell gift, murmuring a soft “Goodbye, Tzuyu.” She offers a weak smile of her own in return as she watches Sana leave.

It no longer matters to Tzuyu that Sana hadn’t really wanted to get back together with her. It was enough for her that Sana had been willing to. 

And now Tzuyu finally understands--how Eurydice must have felt, and why Orpheus and Eurydice is the tragedy that it is. It is about the inevitable, about the futility of struggling against the insurmountable.

Eurydice must have known upon first stepping foot in the underworld that she would never leave it. They had long been preordained to go their separate ways, but out of love, Orpheus had still come back for her, and she had followed him up the ascent all the while knowing, just to be with him for a moment more. She uttered no complaint against her husband as he looked back, because that split second of eye contact, that one lingering moment, would be their last one together. She knew there was no overcoming fate, and it was enough for her that he had looked back at all. 

So of course Orpheus would turn to look to look at her, and of course Eurydice would vanish into the shade. She would have even if he hadn’t turned around.