When I awoke after the procedure, my uncle had already arranged a plane ticket for me. The flight was on the day of Yzail’s wedding.
Seven days left—just enough time to leave everything behind. Yzail was right about one thing: life moves forward. From this moment on, I would cut myself off from all the happiness and pain of the past.
Chapter 4
Three days went by without a word from Yzail. He was out of touch, completely silent. Then, unexpectedly, a notification popped up on my phone. Yzail, the man who never posted on social media and scoffed at superstitions, had shared a picture of the goddess of mercy, captioning it: Praying for peace and safety!
Almost immediately, his friends flooded my inbox, asking if I was okay. It was clear he was trying hard to hide the fact that he was switching brides. I replied to everyone, thanking them for their concern, and even liked and commented on his post, saying that sincerity will bring results.
It seemed, just as I had expected, he had gone to a church to pray. Like any devoted couple, he and Zolenn must have knelt together, making their vows. After making a donation, they took a red ribbon and a love lock.
Yzail held Zolenn close as they wrote their wishes side by side. He tied the red ribbon high on an old tree, and then they went to hang the love lock.
When he turned around for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of his bloodshot eyes, red from worry. It was a look I knew too well. Once, when I was in the hospital, he had stayed by my side, afraid that if he looked away for even a second, something bad might happen to me. Now, that same fear gripped him, but it was for Zolenn and the child she carried.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want children—he just didn’t want my child. That’s why he abandoned me so easily.
When I got home, I gave away all the wedding decorations I had carefully chosen to an elderly woman who collected recyclables. In this home, which had never truly been mine, not a single trace of me remained. All that was left were 500 gigabytes of memories stored on my phone—photos and videos of the few happy moments we had shared. I deleted them all, one by one. As the storage on my phone cleared, so did the weight in my heart.
Once I was done, I made myself some chicken soup. Just as I was about to take a sip, Yzail walked through the door. He cooled the rest of the soup and poured it into a thermos.