The Last Six Months

"In two or three years, I will marry you." I still remember this sentence, but the person who said it has long forgotten it. For two and a half years, the lights in the rental house went on and off, the heat of the food dissipated and gathered again, and he said "wait a little longer" over and over again. There was only half a year left before the agreed date. After another quarrel, I looked at his sleeping face. Looking at the bright lights of thousands of houses outside the window, I finally told myself softly: People should learn to say goodbye.