Chapter 3
I checked the time. It was already ten, and Sophie still hadn't come back.
My phone rang again. It was Sophie. I just hit decline and blocked her number without a second thought.
Since I'd already made up my mind, there was no need to keep dragging this on.
I grabbed the suitcase I'd packed that morning and walked out of the apartment Sophie and I had shared for three years.
That was it.
*****
By the time I rushed back to the apartment, it was already eleven.
The faint scent of cigarette smoke still lingered in the living room.
On the dining table, the food was ice cold, and there was a bouquet of vibrant red roses.
There was a note tucked into the roses.
It read: [Sophie, being part of your future is just too exhausting. I'm sorry.]
Tears silently slid down my cheeks.
The last stroke of my name on the note wasn't bold or dramatic, just a soft, unhurried line.
Just like William himself, gentle and quietly graceful.
I should've realized it sooner. Those hundred love letters were all from William.
He really did love me.
The ridiculous part was that I never truly believed he did.
Honestly, I always felt like I was the one forcing this marriage on him.
I'd been in love with William for ages.
But I never thought he loved me back.
I realized it way too late. By the time I finally got it, he was already done with me.
*****
Back in high school, William was always a bit of an outsider.
While everyone else was out there living it up, he'd just sit quietly at his desk, doing his own thing.
It was like he had his own little world, and he never let anyone else in.
He was a top student, especially when it came to writing.
Even his argumentative essays were so full of feeling that the teacher would often use them as examples for the class.
His essays were like a window into his own little world.
Through that window, I caught a glimpse of a secret corner of his world.
There, flowers blossomed everywhere.
The essay that really made my heart skip a beat was the one where he wrote about the kind of life he wanted for himself.
Everyone else was bragging about making tons of money, launching their own companies, and how they'd be big shots, changing the world.
Those dreams sounded great for some folks.
But the title of William's essay read: [I just want a happy life.]
He wrote that he wanted to find someone he loved most, and maybe someone who loved him just as much.
He dreamed of a relationship where both of them were hopelessly, crazily in love with each other.
If he ever got lucky and made some money, he'd take her up to a remote mountain to visit a church and look for the hermits.
They'd go to pray for love and wander together wherever happiness might be waiting for them.
If life didn't turn out so well, they'd just make a home together, no matter how simple.
When he came home late at night, there'd always be a light on for him.
When he was tired, there'd be someone to hold him close.
When they were busy, they'd miss each other. When they had a moment to themselves, they'd just melt into each other's arms.
Back then, most people just brushed off that kind of life as silly.
But for me, it struck a chord deep inside.
Back then, I didn't have any real dreams. I was just following whatever my parents told me, caught up in the rat race of college entrance exams like everyone else.
The only thing I could really brag about was my family's money.
But after that, I finally found my own dream, just like William, I started dreaming of a happy life, too.
That dream, which most people used to scoff at, only became more and more precious to me as I got older and gained more experience.
That was when I started falling for William.
I wanted to be the one he shared his happiness with.
And I wanted him to be the one I shared my happiness with, too.
I found myself wanting to get closer to him.
But then, my parents passed away. They always acted like the perfect couple in front of everyone, but the way they died was so bizarre that it almost didn't feel real.
Just like that, our happy family was shattered.
I couldn't even remember how to smile anymore.
But in those dark days, I could always sense a distant gaze quietly watching over me from afar.
It wasn't pity or sympathy. It was a heartfelt concern, a worry that came from deep within.
That gaze followed me everywhere, from rooftops to bridges, from deserted wastelands to bustling city streets.
Then, I started getting love letters.
But honestly, they weren't really love letters, there was no confession, no name at the bottom, nothing romantic.
They were just plain descriptions of beautiful places and the stories that happened there.
The writer said the world was huge, and every patch of land had its own kind of magic. But if I never went, all that magic would just be a blur to me. I would be missing out.
But if I did go and become part of those stories, then a bright, sunny girl like me could make those places shine a little brighter.
I had this feeling deep down that William was the one writing those letters.
But I just couldn't bring myself to ask him.
He'd never spoken to me before. He always kept his distance, like he was in a world of his own.
And honestly, if I set aside my family background and just looked at myself as a person, I didn't think I was good enough for him.