Chapter 7
A week after the divorce, I quit my job.
I took Keira's urn to the seaside, to Yellow Mountain, and to the expansive grasslands. These were the three places she'd always dreamed of visiting. I had promised her I would take her there once her SAT scores came in.
On the beach, I watched the sunrise over the ocean, with Keira in my heart.
On Yellow Mountain, I stood amidst the sea of clouds, imagining Keira beside me.
On the grasslands, I watched the herds of horses thundering across the open land, knowing Keira would've loved to see this.
After fulfilling her wishes, I returned to our hometown of Pine Hill.
I buried Keira in Pine Hill Cemetery, surrounded by a peaceful bamboo forest. Keira had always loved the sound of the wind rustling through bamboo leaves. She loved quiet, tranquil places.
Coincidentally, Pine Hill Cemetery was hiring groundskeepers. When the hiring manager saw my resume, he raised an eyebrow. "With your qualifications, shouldn't you be applying to a big corporation?"
"I just want to work here," I answered simply.
He looked at me skeptically. "You don't have some hidden agenda, do you?"
"No hidden agenda. I just want to be close to my daughter."
Once he learned that my daughter was buried there, he hired me without hesitation.
Every day, I would clean Keira's gravestone, making sure it shone brightly and clearing away any weeds that grew around it. In my free time, I'd sit against her gravestone and talk to her, sometimes telling her about my day, sometimes just being silent.
I'd even make some of Keira's favorite dishes and place them in front of her gravestone, as though she were still with me.
Months passed. Before I knew it, six months had gone by.
Then, one day, I got a call from Ryan's mother, her voice breaking with distress.
After the divorce, Ryan had tried to go back to work at the hospital. But when he stood at the operating table, his hands would shake uncontrollably. The trauma from losing Keira had left him unable to hold a scalpel steady. He sought therapy, but nothing seemed to help.
He eventually took an indefinite medical leave and returned home. His mother came to take care of him.
Every day, Ryan was consumed by guilt and regret, spiraling deeper into despair.
"Lena, his condition is getting worse. For the sake of your years together, please come and comfort him," his mother begged.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't even begun to heal from losing Keira. How can I comfort him?" I replied, before hanging up.
Two months later, I received a message from Ryan.
[Lena, meet me at the civil affairs office tomorrow at 8 AM. Don't forget to bring your ID and household registration. After we register, I'll start calling you "wife" again. Love always, Dr. Greene.]
Around 10 PM that night, he sent another message.
[Honey, I'll pick you up at 7 AM tomorrow to take you back to our love nest.]
An hour later, another message came through.
[Honey, where are you? I clearly brought you home, but why aren't you in our new house?]
It was clear he'd lost touch with reality.
Ryan's mother called me soon after.
"Lena, Ryan's had a breakdown. He thinks you two are newlyweds. He's been knocking on doors all over the neighborhood looking for you. Please, come back, even just for a little while."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not a doctor. I can't help him, even if I come back."
"Lena, he really needs you. Please, come back."
"I've already taken care of him for 20 years. We're divorced now. I have no obligation to take care of him anymore. I'm sorry," I said, my voice firm.
"Can you really bear to watch him slowly lose his mind?"
"From the moment Keira was taken from us, I stopped caring whether Ryan lived or died, whether he's sane or not. It's no longer my problem," I said coldly, before hanging up.
In the days that followed, Ryan's mental state worsened. He sent me daily messages and sometimes called me in the middle of the night.
I blocked his number without hesitation.