The smell of morning coffee and the sound of rain outside brought a calmness to the quiet room.
"Honestly, I can't even be sure if I'll remember everything or not," said the old man, his gaze fixed on the cup of coffee in his hand.
"You don't have to remember it all. Just tell me what you do still remember," replied a young woman in a white blouse, sitting across from him. Her black-rimmed glasses gave her a professional look.
"How about starting with the memory that feels the strongest?" She placed a voice recorder on the table and nodded at him. "You may begin."
"Sip." The man drank a gulp of coffee and looked at the window wet with raindrops, as if daydreaming and wandering through every moment of his life.
"I can still remember the last beer I drank that night. My wife Sarah and I were going out to a bar not far from the city to meet my good friend Andrew. Of course, Andrew would be with his girlfriend Anne."
The old man smiled, remembering the warm moment that he still recalls until now.
"What happened that night?" the woman asked while tapping on the blank paper in her hand.
"Not many things actually happened, Sarah and I would always go out every Friday night, you know? After work, to ease our stress we would always go out to get some fresh air or meet old friends once in a while."
"That night I was getting dressed, trying on some t-shirts and jacket I had, just wanting to look neat and pleasant for my wife. Sarah still showering because I could still hear the sound of water flowing from there."
The rain wet the window and the cloudy weather filled the pause in the old man's story, making the silence feel lonely.
"Are you getting ready to go out?" the woman asked softly.
"Yes, it was Friday night. Sarah and I had a high school friend who managed a two‑story bar." The old man nodded without looking at the woman.
The woman wrote a few words on the paper resting on her lap.
"Continue," she said.
"The first floor of the bar was usually quite crowded on Friday nights, while the second floor was more relaxed. People would sit on the carpet, some played chess, card games, and some just chatted."
"Let me guess, you were on the second floor?" the woman asked with a smile, looking at the old man in front of her.
"Haha, you're right." The man smiled softly, looking at his cup of coffee.
"Sometimes Sarah and I would argue a little because of our differences. I prefer the calm and quiet atmosphere upstairs on the second floor, while she, full of energy, would dance and drink on the first floor."
"Didn't that cause any problems for you?"
"Problems?" The man looked at the woman for the first time, his eyes squinted in confusion at the question.
"You and your wife had quite opposite personalities. Didn't that put pressure on you? Was it often the start of an argument?"
"Of course, sometimes we would argue because of these differences, but in the end everything would be fine."
Sip, The bitter coffee moistened his dry lips and tongue as his eyes drifted back into the past in silence. "Yes, I guess that's all. There was never anything big about our argument or such as problem."
"Are you sure?"
"I would remember if there was."
"All right then." The woman nodded and smiled at him gently.
The man nodded back, occasionally glancing at the trees outside through the rain‑soaked window.
"So what happened that night?" the woman asked again.
"Which night?"
"The night when Sarah left you?"
The old man looked sadly at the young woman in front of him, his eyes slowly falling to the cup of coffee in his hand.
"There was nothing special about that night. It was just like any other Friday night. We were going out to meet our friend, Han."
"Han Wei, right?" The woman wrote on her paper.
"Yes, that's right. Sarah and I had known Han since we were still in college." The man nodded slowly, recalling from the depths of his dusty memory.
"Ok, I understand now. By the way, was there ever any conflict between you two?"
"That never happened, Han and I were like brothers. I knew him very well."
"All right, you can continue." The woman smiled and slowly sipped her coffee.
Sip...
"As I explained before, there was nothing truly special. If anything, it was only small quarrels between me and Sarah."
"What kind of quarrels?"
"You know, Sarah didn't want to get pregnant or have children, and I respected her wishes even though they were against what I wanted."
His eyes turned to the children's swings in front of the building, wet and creaking in the wind.
"That night, Han, Sarah, Grace, and I drank quite a lot at the bar—enough that small things could spark into big problems."
"What happened?"
"Grace asked what would happen if Sarah got pregnant. Of course, I answered that I would take full responsibility, even become the best father for that child." The old man laughed bitterly, as if mocking himself.
"And then?"
"I think Sarah drank quite a lot so she became wild. She shouted that she would never want or have children and so on."
"So on?"
The old man stared intently at the woman.
"If you don't want to tell that part, then it's fine. I won't force you either."
The woman nodded slowly and smiled, calming the old man who was still staring at her intently.
A few minutes later, the man finally relaxed and calmed down, then sipped the coffee that started to cold.
Sip...
"That night we returned to the apartment half drunk. The last thing I remember was going to the toilet, and accidentally seeing something colorful in the trash bag."
The man slowly closed his eyes. "Until now I wish I had never found that thing there..."
"What was it?" the woman asked the old James, still had his eyes closed.
James did not answer and kept his eyes shut. "Haaah..." James exhaled softly, looking at the coffee that already cold in his hand.
"James, what did you find? You have to tell me if you want me to help you." The woman took the cup from James's hand, threw away the cold coffee, and poured fresh hot coffee into his cup.
"I will ask you once again, James. What did you find at that time?"
The woman asked again after handing him the coffee.
"I found a pregnancy test in the trash bag," James said faintly, his voice heavy.
"Whose was it?"
"Whose do you think? Only Sarah and I lived in that house." James smiled bitterly at himself.
"It was positive. Sarah was pregnant at that time," he said once more.
"I still remember how happy I was then. I ran to the bedroom and woke Sarah up, showing her the pregnancy test."
James looked at the woman, pausing his story.