While my husband and I were on an Antarctic expedition, we both fell into a bottomless abyss.
I survived, but my husband, who had saved me, died on the spot.
Heartbroken, I planned to spend the rest of my life mourning him.
But when I turned sixty, I saw my supposedly dead husband kissing his childhood sweetheart beneath a peach blossom tree.
They were surrounded by their children and grandchildren, enjoying a lively family gathering.
It turned out that my husband had staged his death so he could be with his childhood sweetheart.
I had spent half my life in mourning, only to discover it was all a ridiculous lie I had told myself.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband and I fell into that bottomless abyss together...
