At the father’s funeral, the husband accompanied the little girl pretending to be sick
Chapter 1
After my dad passed, I decided to divorce my
husband, the Major, and stay in this little
mountain town for good.
Day one, I tricked Mark into signing the
divorce papers.
Day five, I handed in my resignation at the old
job.
Day seven, I cooked a big farewell dinner for
all my friends.
Mark frowned, asking why I’d made dishes
Г
I stood up and toasted his childhood
sweetheart.
From that day forward, Mark was no longer
my concern.
Two weeks later, I saw Mark in the village,
back from a mission.
This time, though, the country evening wind
brought tears to his eyes.
The third day after Dad died, Mark still hadn’t
shown.
“Mayor, I’ve made up my mind. I want to carry
on Dad’s legacy and stay here to teach the
kids.”
had while packing.
The man looked surprised, trying to talk me
out of it:
“Honey, you finally got stationed with your
husband. Why come back to this poor place
to suffer?”
I shook my head, glancing at the old watch on
my wrist, Dad’s keepsake.
“I’m not afraid of hardship. Give me a week,
and I’ll file for divorce.”
Seven p.m. rolls around, and I finally get home
to our place near the base.
The food’s still on the table, just like I left it.
Barely put,down my suitcase before hearing
footsteps outside.
Mark walks in, tall and trim in his green
uniform, sounding cold:
“Is there any food left? The mess hall is
closed. Can you heat it up and pack it for
me? I’m taking it to Sarah.”
“She’s been sick the last couple of days and
can’t cook.”
I turned around, my face showing the
exhaustion:
“I just got back. I didn’t make anything.”
Mark frowned a bit, didn’t ask where I’d been
or seem to care about my fatigue.
He heads straight to the kitchen after getting
my answer.
His mind’s all about his first love’s well–being
at the moment.
I stood there watching him fumble with frying
an egg.
Five years married, and this is the first time
he’s ever cooked.
After putting the noodles in a metal lunchbox,
Mark tried to get past me, but I blocked his
way.
“I need to go back home in a few days. Can
you sign this application so I can get a travel
permit?”
く
I pulled out the incomplete divorce papers,
pointing to the blank space for him to sign.
Mark paused, signing without even looking.
“Sarah’s been sick, so I don’t have time. I’ll go
with you after she gets better.”
I lowered my eyes, hiding the burning tears.
“Okay.”
Brushing past, I caught a whiff of his snow
cream scent.
The one I can’t afford, but his first love uses it
all the time.
Once the gate closed behind him, I walked
stiffly to the table and carefully folded the
く
A week ago, the mayor called, saying Dad had
a stroke while teaching and was in the
hospital.
I panicked, ran home, and grabbed Mark as
he was heading out.
“Can you come home with me? Dad, he…”
Before I could finish, Sarah’s voice called
from outside:
“Mark, hurry up! You promised to take me
shopping.”
Hearing her voice, Mark immediately lost patience, snatched his hand away, and left,
leaving me with a single sentence.
back firat and I’ll find time to
“I’m busy. Go back first, and I’ll find time to
come and see you.”
That “some time” stretched to seven days.
I didn’t see Mark until after Dad’s funeral.
I only had my dad’s last words of advice while
holding my hand before closing his eyes:
“Mark’s a good kid, protecting the country.
He’s supposed to be busy.”
“I don’t blame him. Don’t argue with him when
you go back.”
But Dad, Mark was busy not because of work,
but because he was with Sarah.
Wiping away the tears, I cleaned up the
Countdown to leaving.
Six days left.
On the first day, I went alone to the political
commissar’s office.
“Here’s the divorce application with Mark. I
hope the organization can approve it soon.”
The commissar paused while drinking tea,
quickly picking it up to examine it closely.
After seeing our signatures on it, he sighed
deeply.
“Weren’t you and Mark doing well? How did
you get to the point of divorce?”
<
Yeah, how. did we get here?
Mark and I met through a matchmaker.
He was a promising captain in the army, and I
was a gentle, kind elementary school teacher.
Everyone said we were a good match.
But since Sarah came back, all I heard was:
“Major Mark is so good to Ms. Sarah.”
Shaking my head to get rid of the distracting thoughts, I answered the commissar’s
question:
“Commissar, feelings can’t be forced. We just
want to part ways peacefully.”
<
The commissar didn’t say anything, putting
the application in the drawer.
“Come back in a couple of days to pick it up.”
Leaving the office, I went to the supply and
marketing cooperative.
As soon as I got to the counter, I saw the
snow cream on the shelf.
I’ve never been able to buy it for myself in the
five years we’ve been married.
Following my gaze, the older woman at the
supply and marketing cooperative smiled and
joked:
