Mistaken Love And Hate

5. Resignation

The halls of the Lan estate, always pristine and composed, had never felt so oppressive. The servants whispered as Wei Wuxian passed—barely above a murmur, but the words still stung. He could hear the sharp edge of their tones, the flicker of disdain in their glances, like the air was thick with unspoken judgments. Yet, he walked on with the same quiet grace that had marked his years at Wangji's side, an enduring presence at the edges of his world, invisible and indispensable.

In the years since Wangji had grown older, the boy's gaze had shifted, hardened. The warmth that had once shimmered between them—the laughter, the shared moments—had withered into something brittle and cold. At first, it was just the smallest flickers of disdain, but then it became more pronounced. His sharp eyes, always scrutinizing, no longer held a trace of affection, only a distant, icy formality.

"Move out of the way," Wangji would say now, his voice clipped, when their paths crossed in the corridor. He would pass by without another glance, as though Wei Wuxian were no more than a mere obstacle in his path.

The echoes of those words would linger long after, like the sound of a door slamming shut.

Wei Wuxian had grown used to it. In those years, he'd learned to take the brunt of it all with a quiet strength, his heart ached but never screamed. The words and glares were nothing new; they were simply the constant backdrop of his existence. But the toll they took, the way they chipped away at him, was something only he could truly understand. He had long since stopped hoping that Wangji might see beyond his resentments. Now, he endured them with the stoicism of a man who had spent too long in the shadows, trying to protect a boy who could never quite appreciate the extent of his sacrifice.

His place in the Lan estate had shifted. He no longer entered the elders' chambers with the same deference; instead, his presence was met with tight-lipped silence, polite but cold. The Lan elders looked through him, their eyes dismissing him as little more than a ghost—a relic of a time that was better left forgotten. His advice, once valued by Lan Qiren, was now ignored or offered only as a token gesture. In the grand halls, he was nothing but a flicker in the corner of the room, invisible to everyone except the servants who, too, had learned the rules of avoiding him.

When Wangji had moved into the Lan family's ancestral estate under Lan Qiren's stern guidance, Wei Wuxian's role in his life had all but vanished. He could still recall the day, clear as day, when he had packed his things, leaving behind the boy he had raised for so many years. Wangji, not even sparing him a word, had turned his back and walked away—an empty gesture of finality.

The omega's departure, expected as it was, should have brought some form of relief to the boy who had been raised in the shadow of Wei Wuxian's constant presence. But the truth was, something in Wangji had broken. The distance between them, once an invisible thing, had grown into a chasm. Wei Wuxian, despite the bitterness and resentment, could feel it—could feel the hollowness that Wangji tried so desperately to bury under layers of discipline and pride.

Wei Wuxian, now alone, found the quiet of his existence overwhelming. He wandered the empty halls, where his once-familiar footsteps seemed to echo louder in the silence. The servants had been instructed to avoid him—if they could, they passed him with haste, their heads lowered in quiet disapproval. He was left alone, not even afforded the luxury of a presence to fill the emptiness that had taken root inside him.

The emptiness was different now. No longer was it filled with the laughter of a child he'd cared for, no longer did his days revolve around the quiet rituals of teaching Wangji—words of wisdom passed from one to the other, the bonds of affection and duty intertwined. Now, it was just him. Alone, with only the weight of his memories for company.

He could still remember the days when Wangji had smiled at him, when his eyes had held affection, when their bond had been a simple, unquestioned truth. But now those days felt like a distant dream, fading further with every passing year.

Wangji, surrounded by his family, had moved on. Wei Wuxian couldn't even bring himself to resent that. He had known, from the beginning, that this day would come. That Wangji, despite his attempts to fight against his fate, would eventually embrace the world that awaited him—the perfect, noble heir to the Lan family name.

But Wei Wuxian had always known that he would be left behind. And so, he remained in the shadows, watching as Wangji flourished, his heart aching in the silence that only he could hear.

The days passed, marked by the slow decay of Wei Wuxian's role in the Lan family. The house, once filled with the warmth of a child's laughter and the bustling presence of Wei Wuxian himself, had grown cold and lifeless. Even the servants, once cordial if distant, had learned to look past him—an invisible presence that no one cared to acknowledge.

It was in the quiet moments, when the mansion stood still and the only sound was the soft rustling of the wind outside, that the weight of it all became unbearable. Wei Wuxian would sit in his small quarters, his fingers tracing the delicate edges of the paper cranes that once held so much meaning. Each fold, a memory. Each crane, a lost hope.

But as the days passed, he had learned to silence the ache. He had learned, with a quiet resignation, to take up his place as a mere observer. The man who had once been a guardian, a father figure, a companion, had become nothing more than a shadow—a figure who no longer had a place in the lives of those he had once cared for so deeply.

The air in the estate had become suffocating, thick with unspoken words and bitterness. He had tried—he had given everything for Wangji's happiness, for his success. Yet the boy he had raised had become someone he no longer recognized, a stranger who walked with the weight of a name that was too heavy to bear.

And so Wei Wuxian waited, the moments slipping by like sand through his fingers, as Wangji moved further away, encased in the walls of family duty and expectations. There was nothing left for him, nothing but the echo of a bond that had long since shattered.

Still, Wei Wuxian endured, in silence, in the shadows—because that was all that was left for him now.