He stared at me, his eyes filled with pleading.
“I was so hung up on Lily because I felt guilty.
I blamed myself for her career choice,
thinking it was my comment about her being
beautiful and photogenic that led her to
become an actress. I never imagined she’d kill
herself. I was consumed by guilt, that’s why
I… I realize now, it’s always been you.
Remembering everything, it’s my way of
atoning.”
His despair mirrored the agony I’d felt
watching him die.
I smiled faintly. “I saw your texts.‘
His face paled.
“You told Lily you gave up, begged her not to
die, that you’d divorce me. We were together
く
for years, yet every second, you were thinking
of her. We built a life together, and on our
anniversary, you made me watch you die. You
call that love?”
Disgust filled my voice. “Get out of my life. I
never want to see you again.”
My roommates later told me they saw a man standing outside our dorm all night.
Like a silent statue.
I didn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice.
I thought he’d give up. But he came every
month, crossing two thousand miles just to
see me.
He wouldn’t disturb me, just watch from a
distance.
Each time, he’d leave a gift.
Roses. Beaded bracelets. Souvenirs from
around the world.
The love and the gifts, delayed in my past life,
arrived in this one.
L
I threw them all away.
I didn’t need them anymore.
The tenth time, seeing his dejected figure, I
stopped him.
A flicker of hope ignited in his dark eyes, only
to be extinguished by my words.
“Don’t come back. Every time I see you, I
have nightmares.”
The nightmares were self–explanatory.
All the color drained from his face.
After a long pause, he whispered, “Okay.”
He kept his word, never appearing again.
But he continued to wish me a happy birthday
every year.
“Happy birthday, Jenna. May all your days be
filled with joy.”
The messages arrived like clockwork, every
year until my thirtieth birthday.
On my wedding day, Mark, battling
depression, jumped from a hospital roof.
A letter from a stranger arrived.
“For this life, and the last, I repay you.”
It was autumn again. A sycamore leaf landed
in my palm.
My voice was a whisper, carried on the wind.
“Goodbye.
Goodbye forever.”
