The East Wind Blows, No Turning Back
The day he asked for a divorce, I had just finished wiping the feces off his father, who had been bedridden and paralyzed for three years from a car accident.
He said he had fallen in love with a girl, a girl who made him feel that heart-fluttering sensation again.
"You're too strong, but she can't live without me."
Three years of caring for his father like a widowed single parent, and it all turned out to be worthless against a few of someone else's well-timed tears.
Six years of marriage, and my devotion had become a colossal joke.
I looked at my haggard reflection in the mirror and suddenly laughed.
I found the dust-covered box that had been sealed away for ages, inside which were the six mementos of our love.
That night, I burned the first one.
As I watched it turn to black ash, I felt a part of my heart die with it.
For the sake of our shared past, I will give him six chances.
Once the six items are burned away, I will make a clean break from these ridiculous six years and never look back.