A Tear-Jerking Love Story, Part Three
She counted the days on her fingers. This year, she could finally spend the Valentine Festival with him. She couldn’t contain her inner joy, and that joy was written all over her face, painted on her lips like bright lip gloss. Every now and then, a string of beautiful melodies would slip out from that lip gloss, filling the air with her happiness.
She loved counting days, especially those few important ones in her life. During the long periods they spent apart, those important days gradually became lighter and fainter in her memory because she knew that only their reunions mattered the most in her life.
She longed for the Valentine Festival for the two of them, because too many days were spent carrying the burdens alone. It was a bit bitter, a bit tiring, but she was proud to be a soldier’s wife. Most of the time, she walked through life with strength, talking to the stars outside the window when she felt weak, and reading or washing clothes like crazy when she felt lonely. The lines of laundry, like colorful flags, were drying her solitude and desolation under the bright sun.
The Valentine Festival was approaching, and she thought this Valentine would no longer be spent alone, no longer belong to others. She finally had the Valentine meeting at the Magpie Bridge that she had long envied. She had been a strong woman on all other days, but this time she could be a delicate, romantic little bird.
The Valentine Festival she had been looking forward to finally arrived, but on that day, he was inspecting work with his unit leaders. She cried. The woman who never shed tears despite all the hardships finally cried, silently shedding streams of tears after he left.
Watching the happy women on the street holding flowers, seeing boys rush out of flower shops with large bouquets, she imagined the pretty girls waiting for their boys by the bridge. But she was alone. What was supposed to be a Valentine for two became one for her again. She felt hopeful, then disappointed, and struggled as she wandered aimlessly through the streets.
She didn’t know how long she walked alone on the Valentine streets. She was tired. Back home, she drank a lot by herself. She said it was because, when she was a child on Valentine night, she and her playmates used to eavesdrop on the conversations between the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl under the cucumber trellis, so spending Valentine alone was her punishment.
She went to a karaoke hall and sang until two in the morning. She screamed the songs madly but couldn’t scream out the pain in her heart.
She thought people should learn to forget, to forget those happy days for others, because those days would only bring hurt to herself.
She turned on her phone, which had been off all day, and there was a message from him: “Happy Valentine.” She burst into tears.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
