The Words Left Unsaid 2

After his father's passing, Lin Yuanzhou hadn't returned home for a long time. It wasn't until his mother called, saying she needed to sort through his father's study, that he finally stepped through the familiar door. Account books were piled on the desk, but a worn notebook was hidden in a drawer. He opened it to find entries about his life from childhood to adulthood: his first award, his first job, even a pair of shoes he'd casually mentioned liking. The last page read: "My son's been having a tough time at work lately, must be feeling down. I'm not good with words of comfort, so I'll just wait for him to come home and cook him a bowl of his favorite noodles." The date was the very day they had argued. Yuanzhou covered his mouth, tears falling one by one onto the paper. A few days later, he decided to pull himself together and took over the small shop his father used to run. On opening day, he specifically cooked a bowl of noodles and placed it in front of his father's usual seat. His mother looked at him and asked softly, "Still mad at Dad?" He shook his head, choking back sobs, "Not anymore. I just really wish I could argue with him one more time." Someone called him from outside to attend to a customer. He wiped his tears and got up to busy himself. The bowl of noodles eventually grew cold, but he didn't throw it away. Instead, he sat beside his father's seat and quietly said: "Dad, I'm home. This time, I won't keep you waiting anymore." The shop was quiet, and no one answered. But he finally understood that some apologies come too late to be spoken, and the only way to make up for it is to live the rest of his days striving to become the person his father had hoped he would be.