6
After the divorce, I returned to my hometown.
It was close to the New Year, and the warmth of my parents‘ home was a stark contrast to the cold emptiness of the house I had shared with
Luke.
Only my parents could open their doors to me without hesitation, welcoming me back with unconditional love and understanding.
They never pried or asked for details about my failed marriage, and those who knew the truth were kind enough to keep it to themselves.
My hometown was a quiet village tucked into the corner of a small county.
It wasn’t glamorous like the big city, with its endless lights and noise, but it had a simplicity and warmth that made me feel safe.
Luke had never visited
wwwwww hometown–not before we married, and not after.
He always hated the idea of long car rides and meaningless holidays, so every year I stayed with him in the city, worried he’d feel lonely if I
left.
Looking back now, I couldn’t help but laugh at how foolish I’d been.
They say marriage is the graveyard of love, but it often feels more like a prison for women.
Society’s expectations, like chains, bind us to roles we didn’t choose, drowning us in judgment and sacrifice.
But without Luke, this was the first New Year I’d spent truly living for myself.
For the first time, I forgot about the past.
The neighbors were kind, the fireworks were beautiful, and even the bitter winter cold seemed less harsh.
I allowed myself to feel joy, however fleeting it was.
Until I fell ill.
A Fever That Wouldn’t Break
I came down with a fever soon after New Year’s Day.
It started with a chill, but by the third day, I was bedridden, burning up with no sign of recovery.
When we’re sick, it’s not just our bodies that weaken–it’s our minds, too.
As I lay in bed, memories flooded back, one after another.
My daughter’s death.
Luke’s betrayal.
The pieces of my broken family.
Thirteen years of my life, and what did I have to show for it?
When my daughter was born, I had felt like the universe was giving me a gift, a reward for all the hardships I had endured.
In that moment, I had truly believed I was finally free of suffering.
M
M
9:16 AM
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But deep down, I had always known something was wrong.
Luke’s late nights, his lies, his growing distance–I had seen the signs but chose to ignore them.
Friends had tried to warn me, scolding me for being blind, but I brushed them off with a smile.
Somewhere along the way, those friends disappeared, leaving me alone with Luke and the fog that surrounded him.
The snow in February was bitterly cold.
Even under layers of blankets, my hands and feet stayed icy.
The fever lasted five or six days. My parents begged me to see a doctor, but I refused.
Hospitals had once been a second home to me, back when I was constantly sick. But after my daughter was born, I had vowed to take care of myself–for her sake, to be the role model she deserved.
Now, with her gone, I wondered what reason I had left to keep going.
Was my life a failure? Had every choice I made led me here, to this corner of the world, abandoned and forgotten by the universe?
It felt as though every door had been slammed shut, leaving me to rot in the cold.
