After dealing with Maria’s situation, Nathan didn’t go to the hospital or return to his apartment. Instead, he drove back to the home we once shared.
Several light bulbs in the hallway had burned out, casting everything in dim shadows. As Nathan pulled out his keys to unlock the door, his hand paused. He hadn’t touched this set of keys in five years, yet somehow they still fit the lock. The door clicked softly and swung open.
The dust inside was thicker than he’d imagined–even the breeze from the doorway stirred up clouds of it. Sunlight filtered through grimy windows, and Nathan could see countless tiny particles dancing in the beams. He stood at the threshold, hesitant to step inside, as if afraid of disturbing something
sacred.
I floated in the center of the living room, watching him slowly make his way in. Nathan’s gaze swept over the sofa–the one I’d saved three months‘ salary to buy. He’d insisted on tan because it wouldn’t show dirt. Once, when Nathan worked late and came home exhausted, he’d slept on that couch all night. The next morning, he complained it was too firm and uncomfortable. I’d laughed and said, “When we get our bonus, we’ll buy a softer
one.”
But before that bonus ever came, we had our fight. Nathan had said, “Caroline, can’t you be more understanding? Maria just got Back from overseas–what’s wrong with me looking out for Rer23
What am I to you?”
“Caroline, you’re being completely unreasonable!” he’d snapped.
Those arguments seemed to still echo in the room. Nathan’s fingers traced the armrest, finding a shallow scratch–one I’d made with my fingernail during a particularly heated moment. His fingertips trembled slightly, and his eyes began to redden.
Nathan walked into the bedroom, pushing open the door he’d once kicked in anger. On the wall above the bed hung a yellowed wedding photo. In it, I wore a white dress, beaming with joy. He stood beside me, grinning like a fool.
Back then, Nathan used to say, “Caroline, once I make department head, we’ll take new wedding photos.”
I’d hug him and laugh, “Okay. And we’ll include Liliana in them
too.”
Remembering those moments, my heart actually ached. We’d had so many warm, happy times together.
Nathan stared at the wedding photo for a long time, then suddenly crouched down, burying his face in his hands as he began to sob. His crying was quiet, as if he was afraid someone might hear. But that suppressed, choking sound was more heartbreaking than any wail could have been.
“I was wrong,” Nathan whispered. “Caroline, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have let you take the blame, shouldn’t have abandoned Liliana, shouldn’t have…”
His words were cut off by more violent sobs. I floated behind Nathan, watching as he pulled a pill bottle from his bag and poured out half the white tablets inside. These were sleeping pills he used to take for insomnia–the label had long since worn off the bottle.
Nathan picked up the water glass from the table–one of the matching couple’s mugs we’d bought when we got married. Hist had been smashed long ago in one of his rages; this was mine.
Nathan began swallowing the pills one after another. Even when he gagged and dry–heaved, he didn’t stop.
“Nathan, don’t!” I screamed. Instinctively, I tried to stop him, but my hand passed right through the glass. I could only watch. helplessly as he hurt himself, powerless to do anything.
Nathan’s eyes were bloodshot–whether from crying or from the retching, I couldn’t tell. But whatever the cause, this wasn’t what I wanted to see.
Though I no longer loved Nathan due to everything that had happened, I still hoped he could live well. At the very least, I didn’t want Nathan to suffer because of me. Unfortunately, he didn’t understand.
Nathan walked to the window and pushed open the spider web–covered frame. Wind rushed into the room, tousling his hair and lifting a piece of paper from the table. It was the divorce agreement I had written five Christmases ago, bearing mysignature but still waiting for his that never came.
21:23
Back then, I thought once he signed it, I would let him go and
free myself as well. I would take Liliana to another city and start over. But before I could even hand him the agreement, that medical malpractice incident happened.
Nathan picked up the paper, his fingertips gently tracing over my signature. His tears dropped onto the name “Caroline,” spreading into a small blot of ink. He smiled and said, “You see, I still came to find you.”
But his tears wouldn’t stop flowing. He said, “This time, I won’t look for anyone else only you.”
Nathan’s face gradually turned pale, his body swaying as he gripped the windowsill to steady himself. He looked up toward the window, where the sunlight at the alley entrance was beautifully warm.
Nathan murmured, “Liliana must still be mad at me, right? When I see her later, I’ll apologize and buy her favorite strawberry cake. She’s such a good girl–she’ll definitely forgive
me.”
Gradually, his voice grew quieter and quieter. He slowly slid down the wall to sit on the floor, his head tilting against his shoulder, eyes still gazing out the window with a faint smile on his lips. It looked just like all those times before when he would fall asleep in my arms.
I drifted over and looked at Nathan’s closed eyes. Tears still glung to the corners, and dust settled on his lashes like a forgotten flower in some corner.
21:23
old clock on the wall still ticking away, as if counting the time someone owed.
I knew Nathan had finally come. He came with his belated apologies and debts he could never repay in a lifetime to find Liliana and me. But Liliana and I no longer needed any of that.
The sunlight at the alley entrance slowly moved away, and the room grew dark again. Dust particles continued floating in the remaining shafts of light, but this story had finally come to an end.
5/5
