I was convinced.
I quit all those groups and gave up all
extreme sports.
But now, skiing in the breeze, watching the
sunset,
My friends screamed in praise.
“Sarah, you’re amazing! You’re so
professional; you could be an athlete!”
We huddled together, chatting and laughing
merrily.
Even if there were disagreements, after a
meal,
We’d stick together again, laughing and
joking.
Everyone said what they wanted to do
directly.
It had been so long since I heard praise, felt
so relaxed.
I was infected by their mood.
I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief.
<
I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief.
I never thought I’d see Mark again.
He was alone at the apartment complex entrance.
He’d been standing there for a long time; his
face was pale from the cold.
As soon as he saw me, his eyes lit up.
He quickly walked towards me, then slowed down.
He saw my snowboard and immediately
frowned.
“I’ve told you countless times not to go
snowboarding.
“So many people are injured every year; do
you know that?
“Do you want to be in a wheelchair, treated
like a burden?
“You act recklessly when I’m not around,
don’t you?”
He snatched my snowboard and slammed it
<
to the ground.
The snowboard cracked, and passersby
looked at him in surprise.
Perhaps Mark’s actions were too shocking.
A kind stranger approached, looking at him
warily, saying,
“Don’t worry, miss, stand behind me. I’m a
veteran; I’ll protect you.”
Something triggered Mark, and he suddenly
roared.
“What’s it to you? Who are you, going crazy?
Do you even deserve to protect her?”
They almost fought, but the crowd stopped
them.
I shook my head apologetically to the man.
“Thank you, sir, I’ll handle it.”
I pulled out my phone, looked at Mark, and
said calmly,
“I’ve called the police.
“Mark, you’re the one who’s acting crazy.”
<
At the police station.
Mark and I sat opposite each other, neither
speaking first.
The officer chuckled, trying to mediate. “Young couples having a spat, just a
domestic issue. Why report it? Go home and
resolve it.
He turned to Mark.
“You too, coax your girlfriend. Don’t argue
with her…
I interrupted the officer.
“We’re not a couple, and it’s not a domestic
issue.
“I’m reporting this as an ordinary citizen,
accusing him of damaging my personal
property.”
I didn’t understand why all conflicts and harm,
Were classified as domestic issues just
because they were between a boyfriend and
girlfriend?
<
girlfriend?
If the other person is your husband or
boyfriend,
The harm isn’t harm anymore, so it can be
minimized and resolved?
Conflicts between strangers can be reported and prosecuted.
Why do boyfriends, girlfriends, and spouses
get lighter sentences, becoming mediation
cases?
The officer’s expression turned awkward; he stopped joking, becoming serious.
He followed procedure without emotion.
Mark paid a fine and compensated for my
losses.
Then he wrote a letter of assurance.
Before leaving the police station, he shook
hands with the officer.
“Sorry for the trouble.‘
I watched coldly.
L
Mark was like that.
He wasn’t incapable of apologizing; he was
always polite to outsiders.
But with me, lowering his head was so difficult.
The people closest to him were the ones
most hurt by him.
I quickened my pace.
But Mark didn’t give up; he chased after me. “Sarah, can we talk?”
I kept walking: “We can talk, but don’t appear
in front of me again after this, can you do
that?”
Mark hesitated, then agreed.
We found a nearby cafe.
Inside, I ordered an iced Americano.
Mark instinctively stopped me: “It’s winter;
you shouldn’t drink iced coffee. Waiter,
change this to a hot latte…”
I glared at him, and Mark froze.
く
He pursed his lips and didn’t speak again.
After sitting down, I got straight to the point:
“Let’s talk. What’s up?”
Mark stiffened, trying to soften his
expression.
“I’ve thought a lot since then. You’re right,
our problem is a lack of honesty.
“I haven’t done anything wrong, I just don’t know how to communicate; I can change
that.”
He looked at me cautiously, “Sarah, I’ll try to
change. Don’t break up with me, okay?”
I’d waited seven years for this.
Finally, Mark said it, but it was too late.
I said, “No.”
Mark’s eyes widened in fear.
He seemed to remember something, hastily
rolling up his sleeve to show me his arm.
The scar on his arm was proof of him giving
up his dream for me.
<
It was Mark’s greatest weapon, his strongest
leverage.
Every time he showed it, I’d be speechless
and give in.
But this time, I didn’t move. After a long
moment, I softly said,
“Mark, even without that scar, you couldn’t
have become a pilot, right?”
I’d found out recently.
Mark’s father had been imprisoned and had a
criminal record.
Whether he had the scar or not, Mark
couldn’t pass the security check.
But he’d kept it from me.
“Do you know? Carrying someone’s dreams is
exhausting.”
Because of me, Mark couldn’t become a pilot;
he stood on a moral high ground.
Everyone demanded that I be tolerant and
accommodating.
<
Because of guilt, I endured all his bad temper.
Whenever I doubted the relationship,
someone would bring this up to blame me. “He gave up his dream for you, and you say
he doesn’t love you? Sarah, don’t be so demanding.”
Over time, even I believed in Mark’s love.
Mark’s tone was urgent.
“You know, I had a bad family; my parents
didn’t love me. You’re my first love; I’ve never
loved anyone; I don’t know how to love…”
“Then you should learn!”
My emotions were out of control; my voice
was choked.
“Should I be deceived and manipulated
because of that?
“Mark, did you deceive me because I’m
stupid?”
Mark quickly retorted, “No!”
He looked up: I could almost see tears in his
<
up,
eyes.
