By Huina Zheng
Lan, nestled in her living room, stared at the grey sofa. Time had faded its fabric, leaving an egg-sized, frayed hole on the right armrest. Through it, a yellowed sponge peeked.
“Should I discard it?” she whispered, eyes shut, drifting to a sunny afternoon years back. She and her husband, newlyweds then, were adorning their abode. Her mother arrived, beaming, as workers hauled in a grey sofa – a wedding gift. The sofa’s modern elegance filled them with joy. “This will be a part of your journey together,” her mother had said.
That very sofa had been a cradle of intimacy – Lan and her husband wrapped in each other’s arms, immersed in endless conversations. On that same sofa, she had read stories to her infant daughter, lulling her into dreams.
But a voice echoed in her ears, “It’ll only remind you of how bad things are now.”
Her mind unwillingly rewound to a day, a decade ago. She had returned from a trip early, bursting with anticipation, only to discover her husband in a young woman’s embrace, on that very grey sofa.
A wave of dizziness hit Lan, the stark realization sinking in – a decade had passed since her divorce. Eight years ago, her mother’s diagnosis with Parkinson’s disease had led to a heartbreaking estrangement as her mother no longer recognized her. Four years ago, she lost her mother forever. Those years were a blur of pain from her divorce, a demanding job, and the exhausting care for her ailing mother.
On this couch, Lan sought refuge in a bottle, letting tears and alcohol blur her reality, her grief staining the couch and floor. Over those years, she had grown distant from her daughter, her frustration often erupting over small matters. After high school, her daughter had left, cutting the fragile thread of their connection.
Last year brought job loss; this month, a major surgery. Lan’s life, once woven in love and warmth, now frayed at the edges. She sat, pondering over the small hole.
She walked into the bedroom and retrieved lace fabric from her wardrobe. As she unfolded the delicate material, she began cutting along its fine patterns.
With each snip, Lan transformed the lace into a tapestry of unique, fragile flowers. Returning to the living room, she cradled these floral creations to the couch. She placed a lace bloom over the armrest’s tear. Each thread weaved a cover for the couch’s time-worn scars. She adorned the couch with more lace flowers, veiling the yellowed stains of past sorrow. Her hands moved with growing assurance, each flower finding its perfect place.
The couch, reborn, now wore its history veiled under newfound beauty. Lace blossomed against grey, each adding a touch of warmth, a whisper of elegance. Lan caressed the fresh stitches, her heart brimming with contentment. The couch mirrored its former glory, as if new to her home once more.
Inhaling deeply, she murmured, “I can finally cover what’s broken.”
* * *
Huina Zheng, a Distinction M.A. in English Studies holder, works as a college essay coach. She’s also an editor at Bewildering Stories. Her stories have been published in Baltimore Review, Variant Literature, Midway Journal, and others. Her work has received nominations twice for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. She resides in Guangzhou, China, with her husband and daughter.
