Chapter 12
In Nathen’s impression, the last four days of December seemed to pass slowly but also quickly.
He went to every place he could think of, all by himself, just to find Melanie’s trace.
He went to the hospital and heard the doctor say that Melanie had come for a follow–up
appointment alone last time, which was about a month ago.
She knew that there was no hope for her recovery, so she never came back again.
He went to the alleyways they used to love to visit before, and heard from the familiar owner that
the last time she came, she was alone.
The boss asked why her husband didn’t accompany her, and she smiled lightly, only saying five
words.
“I’m about to leave soon.”
He went back to school and heard from the security guard that a girl with a broken leg had indeed come back recently. She wandered around the school in a wheelchair all by herself.
And on that fringe tree, the confession made in my youth inexplicably vanished, leaving only a scab
that had already begun to heal.
He went to meet several of her close friends from the past, and learned from them that before she disappeared, she had made plans to have a meal with them.
At the dinner party, she got drunk and said a lot of nonsense with a tipsy smile, asking them to be well and not to think of her anymore in the future.
Every place Nathen knew, where Melanie would appear, had once been marked by her presence.
And all the accounts from the witnesses were unexpectedly consistent.
Melanie came alone, stayed for a long time, and said a lot of inexplicable things.
It felt like a grand farewell was taking place.
And this, is also the most puzzling aspect for Nathen.
If she found out that he was being unfaithful and wanted to leave him, all she needed to do was to
file for divorce.
Why did you have to drag your inconvenient body around, going to so many places and saying so many goodbyes?
Shouldn’t it be only him that she hates, wants to say goodbye to?
Looking at the snow still falling outside the window, Nathen’s heart seemed to be covered in snow
1/3
as well, a vast expanse of white.
He took out his phone, took a picture of the snow scene outside the window, and sent it to Melanie.
“Melanie, it has been snowing these past few days, did you see it?”
“Are you still mad at me? I’m sorry, are you coming back?”
Nathen seemed to have gone crazy, typing illogical words on the keyboard and continuously pressing the send key.
One after another, all sank to the bottom of the sea, without a trace.
Rows and rows of green chat boxes, flipping upwards, unable to reach the bottom no matter how much they flipped.
Gradually, he also lost patience and began to give up on himself.
He pressed the record button and faithfully recorded every detail of those buried, marriage–betraying facts that were hidden deep in his heart.
After the recording ended, Nathen looked at the sixty–second recording automatically sent on the screen. The long–standing burden of regret and guilt, like a towering mountain, instantly disappeared.
What was once thought to be as difficult as reaching the sky, turned out to be so effortlessly
achievable after making up one’s mind.
If it was so simple, why didn’t he dare to do it in the first place?
Why is it that we always think about redemption and confession only after completely losing something?
Can belated repentance make up for the mistakes committed in the past?
Nathen questioned himself, but he couldn’t find an answer.
The only person who could give him the answer has already left his world.
It has been eight full days.
