On our wedding night, he read a book while I worked on my thesis.
My best friend asked me, “Aren’t you going to fulfill your marital duties?”
I said, “We’ve only met twice. We barely know each other.”
He was the youngest lieutenant colonel, carrying the nation on his shoulders and keeping someone in his heart.
I only found out later that he had been in love with her for over a decade.
On our wedding day, he toasted with me, took drinks in my place, and held my hand in front of everyone.
But the way he looked at her was different from the way he looked at me.
I thought this marriage was just a practical arrangement, with each of us getting what we wanted.
Until I received news on a snowy mountain that he had gone missing on a peacekeeping mission, and my hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone.
Until he came back from the battlefield, sat smoking in the living room, and said nothing all night.
Until I lay against his chest and asked him, “Who are you thinking about now?”
He said, “You.”
