A man moved into a woman's old house, its red brick walls draped with vines that turned green in spring and red in autumn.
After he moved in, the woman became very busy. Every morning, she would prepare breakfast, toasting bread and heating milk for him. She always left the house last, locking the door behind the man before heading to work herself. In the evening, she would rush home hastily, as she held the only key, to open the door for him.
Opening the door led to their sweet, warm, albeit slightly messy home. The man was content with this life, always returning precisely ten minutes after she opened the door.
The woman adhered to coming home early to open the door for him, believing this would be her lifelong routine. Gradually, however, the man stopped appearing on time after she unlocked the door.
The man eventually took over the key. No matter how much the woman wished to keep the new key, he refused. She deeply hoped that, ten minutes after she opened the door, he would appear punctually at their doorstep.
The man began coming home after she fell asleep and leaving early in the morning, always with the key. "You don't have to rush back; I can open the door," he told her.
So, the woman was no longer eager to return home and began to have her own social life.
In their happiness, they both sometimes forgot to go home, and occasionally, even forgot to bring the key. Without it, they would think of the other as the one holding the key, hoping the other would open the door so they could enter.
One day, the key was lost. The two stood outside, looking at each other.
The woman finally spoke: "Let's separate." The man replied, "Alright. I owe you a key." The woman said, "If you ever find that key, just lose it again."
The woman changed the lock and got a new key. A key can unlock a chapter of love, but it can also corrode one. Not everyone who holds the keys finds happiness in love.