Whenever we came back from medical visits in the city, no matter how late, Mom would always bring Matty home that same night, so I would turn instinctively.
“Mom, what did the doctor say about Matty—”
But I froze.
The person who had come back was not Mom.
It was Chris who should have been enjoying his wedding night in the city.
Even from several feet away, I could smell the lingering wine from the ceremony clinging to him.
“Nadine,” he said, frowning slightly, “why are you awake at this hour? And why is the light off?”
The dim yellow bulb cast a soft glow on his tired face, but it couldn't hide the happiness in his brows, or the subtle arrogance of someone who now entirely belonged to the city.
In the past, I would have run right into his arms, tears of longing rolling down my face, letting him pinch my nose and tease me for being a little crybaby.
But now, as he moved toward me, I automatically stepped back and acted like nothing was wrong.
I've just finished harvesting the crops and have just got home. I'm dirty."
In the summer, when the daytime heat became overwhelming, villagers often harvested crops at night with flashlights.
Chris had grown up in the countryside too, so he didn’t find this unusual. He slightly frowned and took a small step back.
“Nadine, you have worked hard these past years.”
To support his start-up, I left my job despite being a graduate of a top university. I returned to the village to care for our son with cerebral palsy and his mother, whose leg was crippled.
For ten entire years, no matter how bitter or exhausting life became, I endured it. Before I knew the truth, I pushed through each grueling day by holding onto the dream of the grand wedding and city-life happiness he had promised me.
But now, I felt nothing except exhaustion.
Too tired to question him.
Too tired to argue.
Too tired to care.
The only thing on my mind was to quietly make it through the next three days, as I was planning to take Matty overseas for treatment after that.
Expressionless, I took the sleeping Matty from Chris's arms.
“You must be tired from the trip,” I said. “Go wash up. I will put him to bed.”
I turned toward the bedroom, but he followed me.
“Matty is heavy. Let me carry him.”
Chris lifted Matty from my arms and laid him gently on the bed. Then, turning back to me, he took both my hands in his, rubbing the calluses on my palms with his thumbs.