Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

The surveillance clock marked 6:00 PM, the spacious living room bathed in the soft glow of twilight. There, on the couch, sat Roseanne, alone.

With just a glance, Murray knew she had been waiting for him to come home.

No TV buzzing in the background, no smartphone in her hands, just sitting there, like a rose slowly losing its bloom.

He realized then, the "feeling of home" he cherished-where no matter the time, a light would always be left on in the living room, was borne out of a woman's relentless concessions, her endless patience, and even her complete self-sacrifice. "When I was a kid, my dad was buried in work, my mom caught up in socializing, leaving me at home, tossed to the care of a nanny. Despite having both parents and coming from a well-off family, I never really felt the warmth of home..." "Anne, sometimes I envy you... The simple, clean family ties, loving parents, and their affection and guidance from a young age, all hands-on..."

"To this day, my parents still believe money is omnipotent, thinking spending more could raise a better son... If the kid isn't turning out well, it must be because they haven't spent enough..."

"Anne, meeting you, I've been so lucky, you've shown me what warmth is..."

"Ever since being with you, I can't help but picture this: coming home to see you bustling in the kitchen, our kids playing in the living room, all of us having dinner together... maybe even a big, bustling family..." "After dinner, the kids playing in the yard, you sitting on a swing,

and me, gently pushing you from behind, just watching our kids run, laugh, and play..."

"Anne, believe me, we will keep going like this, until old age does us part, until death separates us..."

Murray's ears echoed with the words he had once said to her when they first got together.

He had spoken of his longing for a warm family, a virtuous wife, and filial children.

As time went by, he had forgotten those words, but Roseanne not only remembered them but also acted to paint the future he had promised her.

But now, he had ruined everything!

Ruined it all!

Murray raised his hand and slapped himself.

Smack-

The crisp sound echoed unusually loud in the quiet night.

But it was too late.

He had lost her, lost the life he hadAll rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

longed for and lost the woman, wet

more than anyone else in

the world.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

It fell on the table, shattering, staining the expensive mahogany cheap and dirty.

The surveillance clock moved to 1:00 AM.

"He" finally came home.

Staggering drunk.

He walked past her, already asleep on the couch, and headed upstairs.

ๆ

And just after "he" left, Roseanne slowly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the crystal chandelier above for one second, two seconds...

For a full three minutes.

Then she sat up, gazing in the direction "he" had gone, deep in thought.

She hadn't been asleep after all!

What was Roseanne thinking about then?

Murray couldn't guess, and he dared not to.

Perhaps disappointment accumulates just like this, bit by bit.

A breakup isn't a momentary impulse, but a stacking of day-to-day disappointments, a daily erosion of love.

Until it becomes the inevitable outcome.

He had been so sure that she would never leave him, which allowed him to take her for granted.

And what he had squandered, had now become unattainable.

Murray stared at the screen for a long, long time...

Until the wind howling outside the window brought back his wandering thoughts, reminding him of the

reason he had come to the study to check the surveillance in the first place.