During the darkest moments of my life, he was my lifeline, the one who pulled me back from the abyss.
After my father succumbed to alcohol, my mother unleashed her frustrations about their marriage onto me, forcing me to carry the weight of her grievances.
At eighteen, Oliver was slender and not particularly tall, yet he had the bravery to drop out of school for a year to earn enough money to send me to high school in the city. He even started a business to support my education, sacrificing his own dreams for mine. On the day he graduated, we obtained our marriage certificate. That night, overwhelmed by emotion, Oliver drank too much, holding me close as he cried. He beat his chest in desperation, as if trying to convey his heart to me. “I truly believe that people who cheat are disgusting, regardless of gender. Lisa, don’t worry; I will never cheat. This is my responsibility to you, and it’s my bottom line.” For ten years, I believed those words—until Anna appeared.
The sound of the door opening pulled me from my thoughts as I bit down on the gauze, bracing myself for the final bandage. “Oliver?” In his loose hospital gown, he looked even thinner than before. He approached me, gently touching my nose, a hint of affection in his eyes. “You seem unhappy today. I want to go home and be with you.” Suddenly, confusion and hurt overwhelmed me, leaving me unable to comprehend his words.
We’ve known each other for fifteen years, yet I find it difficult to discern the truth in what he says. “Lisa, look! Hydrangeas!” I’m allergic to pollen, but I adore flowers. When he bought our house, Oliver opened up the balcony and built a glass cabinet just for them. Yet, not long ago, when I asked why there were no flowers on our wedding anniversary, he replied impatiently, “Aren’t you allergic to flowers? Why would I buy them?” I was momentarily speechless, gripping the divorce agreement in my hand. “Oliver, I need to talk to you…”
“Lisa, it’s cold outside. I’m going to take a shower to warm up,” he interrupted, his smile still curving gently, but there was a coldness in it that felt unfamiliar, making my heart race. “Okay,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You go first. I have something to tell you later,” he said, emphasizing, “Very important.”