Chapter 4
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When he disappeared for days then reappeared with appeasing gifts, I would push those offerings away and face him with icy coldness. I hurled my disappointment and anger at him like invisible daggers, one after another. I wanted him to feel my pain, wanted to see guilt flash across his face.
But he never defended himself or showed anger. He simply endured my emotional storms, then quietly sat beside me, gazing at me with those eyes I once adored. His silence was like a soft wall; all my accusations and fury crashed against it only to vanish without trace, leaving me with deeper helplessness.
So I changed tactics. I began displaying myself before him with greater dedication than ever. I transformed the entire garden into my stage, using wind, sunlight, and swaying grass as my backdrop. I stretched my body, pouring all my vitality into solo performances just for him. Every movement, every leap was a silent plea: Look at me—isn't my charm enough to make you stay?
He would watch attentively, his eyes showing familiar admiration and fascination. But that appreciation never transformed into the commitment that would keep him by my side.
In our most intimate moments together, I abandoned all restraint and hesitation, opening my most vulnerable self to him without reservation. I believed this complete surrender, this unreserved devotion, would imprint something uniquely mine on his very essence.
Yet none of it mattered.
He would still embrace me tenderly, yet would still withdraw and disappear beyond that door before the warmth of our intimacy had fully faded. My world constantly tore between brief moments of fulfillment and long periods of emptiness.
The pain finally became unbearable in my daily waiting and suffering. Rather than rotting in endless suspicion, I decided to witness the truth with my own eyes, even if that truth would destroy me completely. So the next time he turned to leave our shared world, I suppressed all instincts and, for the first time, silently followed him.
I had never ventured beyond that grand door. Everything outside was unfamiliar and threatening, but all my senses locked onto his retreating figure. I made myself small, using every shadow and corner for concealment, following him like a ghost.
He didn't go far. In an open area I'd never seen before, he stopped. And then I saw it.
It wasn't the betrayal I had imagined, yet it was crueler than anything I could have envisioned. He was visiting other women, bringing them small gifts and treats. He was popular, with these women surrounding him, chatting happily. That gaze I thought was exclusively mine—that mixture of admiration and tenderness—he now cast upon them without the slightest difference.
In that moment, I felt no heartbreak. My entire being seemed instantly hollowed out. All those special, secret rituals I thought belonged only to us turned out to be templates he replicated endlessly. I wasn't his exception; I was merely one among many. The world he opened for me was equally open to them all.
The strength that had carried me this far suddenly vanished. I didn't confront him or make a sound. That scene was like an invisible barrier, isolating me outside, turning me into a ridiculous, redundant observer.
I turned and walked alone back to our home. The path that had been filled with tension and anticipation on the way there now felt endless and numbing on the return. The fresh scent of grass, the smell of damp earth—all the things that had become beautiful because of him—now seemed to silently mock my foolishness. I returned to our hollow home, curled up in my familiar corner, and let the searing pain completely engulf me.
