When I reached the roadside, the wind blew, and only then did the tears land on the back of my hand.
A delicate die, set with red beans — does it know how the longing cuts to the bone?
He thought I didn't understand what that die meant.
But I wasn't as foolish as he believed.
I took out my phone and dialed the number of the blind-date match my mother had pushed on me countless times.
She'd been urging me to settle down soon.
She said the Hardings were just an ordinary family, and even if I stuck by Oswald while he built everything from scratch, none of the rewards would ever come to me.
But I always just smiled and said that if you want to marry a general, you have to be with him back when he's still a foot soldier.
Looking at it now, those words were unbelievably stupid.
The moment the call connected, I sniffed back the tears.
"Dr. James, that marriage you mentioned before — I accept."
"The wedding is set for eight days from now. I've prepared everything, so you don't need to worry about a thing. Just show up."
After I hung up, I deleted Oswald from the top of my pinned chats.
When I woke, the sky was already bright.
Out of habit, I reached over to the other side of the bed.
The space beside me was empty.
Oswald hadn't come home all night.
I picked up my phone.
At three in the morning, he'd sent me a message:
"Dawn just landed and needs to adjust to the time difference, so I'm keeping her company. I won't be back tonight. Get some sleep."
Below it was a post Dawn had put up on her feed ten minutes ago.
The location was tagged at the bridal shop I'd spent three months choosing.
In the photo, she was wearing the mermaid gown I'd fallen for at first sight.
The veil draped down over her shoulders, and she looked as pure as an angel.
Oswald stood behind her, head bent as he helped arrange the train of the dress, his eyes full of a tenderness I'd never once seen.
The caption read:
"Day one. Finally got to wear the wedding gown I've always wanted. Thank you."
Below it, a few mutual friends had tactfully dropped some question marks:
"?? Isn't Oswald getting married?"
Dawn replied:
"Just settling an old regret. Millie's very generous, she won't mind."
I stared at that photo for a long time.
My finger pressed against the screen, but I didn't know where to put it.
The phone rang.
The screen lit up with two words: "Hubby."
I answered.
There was a hint of a smile in his voice.
"You're up? You're not mad about last night, right? Dawn and I just tried on the gown, she's always wanted to wear that style, so I went along with her. You'll be wearing it for the wedding anyway, so think of it as me checking the fit ahead of time for you."
"Oh."
I answered flatly.
He seemed pleased with my reaction and went on:
"Oh, right — I canceled today's prenatal checkup we had scheduled. Dawn's stomach is bothering her, it's an old problem, so I'm taking her for a gastroscopy. You're fine on your own, right? I know my wife's the most understanding."
Understanding.
The time I was hospitalized with a bleeding stomach, he'd said the same thing.
Back then Dawn had gotten into a fight and was detained, and he'd gone to bail her out, leaving me to hire a caregiver myself.
He'd said:
"You're understanding, you can handle it yourself. Dawn's a girl in there alone, I can't stop worrying."
I gripped the phone, my fingertips ice-cold.
"Oswald."
I said softly:
"My stomach hurts too."
There was a pause on the other end, then his impatient voice came through:
"Can you not make a fuss? Dawn's is a chronic condition, it hurts bad enough to kill her."
"You're just hungry. Can't you cook yourself some porridge? It's only seven days, just bear with it, and once the wedding's over I'll take you to the hospital every single day."
I said nothing.
He clicked his tongue.
"All right, all right, I'm busy over here, I'm hanging up now. I'll bring you something good to eat tonight."
The call ended.
I set down the phone and climbed out of bed.
