Chapter 4

Over the years, he'd often gaze at his mother's photo, quietly whispering, asking her to wait for him. He promised he'd be with her soon.

He never found real happiness.

Duty was what carried him all this way.

Now, sickness became his path to finally reunite with his mother.

I was the only person he couldn't bear to leave behind. Now, he could finally find peace.

Rain fell as we laid him to rest. By my mother's photo, we placed my father's, side by side.

He'd told me countless times that his deepest wish was to be buried with her.

Brentley gently held my shoulders, wiped my tears, and pulled me into his arms. Speaking softly, he said, "Don't be afraid. I'll look after you."

There was a depth of comfort and tenderness in his voice—the kind you'd only get from someone truly by your side. Just like how he took care of everything for the funeral, never missing a single detail.

It was like we really were one, facing all life's storms together, sharing the heartbreak of losing family, holding each other up, and slowly stepping out of the pain—ready to start a whole new life, hand in hand.

It was supposed to turn out that way.

That was the vow we made at our wedding, the future both our families wished for.

I once prayed so earnestly, begging the heavens for a lasting love and a life of peace and stability.

But disappointment, it turns out, is just the way of life.

I hugged him tighter, burying my face against his neck, clinging to what little warmth lingered, reluctant to let go—even if I knew it was the last time.

After a few seconds, I slowly let him go, my voice a little shaky as I murmured, "Thank you."

He gave me a small frown, probably surprised.

Funny, I almost never thanked him before.

Before I got married, Dad and I lived in an apartment near my school—the place Mom used to teach. Dad bought it so she could get to class easily, and so could I. Even after Mom was gone, Dad and I stayed there, just the two of us.

Once Brentley and I tied the knot, I moved in with him.

I took a week off and returned to my childhood home.

The whole wall was stacked with books, but after Dad had been sick for so long, many were covered in dust, forgotten and untouched.

Mom's snow mountain painting was still there on the wall. When I was little, I'd get lost staring at the brilliant whiteness of those peaks, daydreaming for hours.

I called in a cleaner to help me freshen the place up.

When the windows were finally sparkling again, I curled up alone on the couch, watching the sunlight sink lower, feeling the emptiness and quiet settle in around me.

I guessed people needed enough bonds—connections to hold onto—if they wanted to keep going strong.

My phone chimed with a notification from X.

I'd marked that girl as a priority on my feed.

Harriet: [Today is the anniversary of Analia's passing.

[The one who hurt her has finally faced justice. I hope you can rest easy now.

[Analia, I want you to know that he really is a good guy.

[I'll love him as if you were still here with us.

[I promise, we'll find happiness.]

Attached was a photo—a shot of the tombstone.

It really was true—November was a month of sorrow.

Honestly, if Harriet hadn't reminded me, I probably would've let Analia's anniversary slip by completely.

Every year on this day, Brentley would always seem even more down than usual.

Before we got married, he told me about his past with Analia.

Honestly, I already knew, even before he said a word.

I was two years younger than them. When I first started at school, I couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, how effortlessly charming.

When I found out he already had a girlfriend, I felt a pang of disappointment—suddenly, I understood what it meant to feel melancholy over the changing seasons.

Analia and Brentley were the most famous couple on campus.

They were both drop-dead gorgeous and insanely talented. I could spot them at every big event, always stealing the spotlight.

Back then, Brentley was just a sunny, upbeat guy—none of that brooding, distant vibe he had later. And Analia was stunning, inside and out, with a talent that made everyone take notice.

He spoiled her—always turning up early by the girls' dorm with breakfast, then waiting outside her classroom just to walk her after class.

Analia didn't come from money, so she was always picking up tutoring gigs to cover living expenses. Rain or shine, Brentley would show up to get her, never missing a day.

Once, I happened to bump into them. It looked like they'd just had a fight—Analia sat inside the library, tears slipping down her face as she stared off into space, while Brentley waited unmoving outside, like a statue.

A glass wall separated them; they wouldn't look at each other, as if there was a world between them, but you could tell—they were both just waiting for the other, neither one willing to leave first.

Just like that, after all these years, she had always been the one in his heart.

Being the bystander to my husband's first love—yeah, that stung, especially that moment at the library, seeing them on opposite sides of the glass.

That tug-of-war between them—only people who were crazy in love could pull that off. Whenever I remembered it, I couldn't help but think that was what real love looked like.

Honestly, I was nothing but a background character—not even important enough to be the runner-up heroine. All I could do was watch their legendary romance play out, totally from the sidelines.

Soon after, they broke up—and it was ugly, the kind of breakup that leaves scars.

Analia got involved with some flashy rich guy—her mom was seriously ill, and she was desperate for money.

In the end, it was like she had no choice but to sell herself.

Even after all these years, I still didn't get it. Why didn't she turn to Brentley for help? Why go to that rich guy instead?

Under that guy's control, Analia suffered a lot. Later, someone posted explicit photos of her on the school forum. That night, she jumped off the building.