I leaned against the headboard, watching his trembling shoulders, feeling helpless. I was wrong.
He had no obligation to bear the burden of my desire to return home.
The manipulation, the lies, the mission... Perhaps from the beginning, I should have been honest with him.
I shouldn't have deceived him, shouldn't have let him be treated like a fool, played with, and then abandoned for no reason.
"I'm sorry."
I apologized softly, "I shouldn't have lied to you, I'm really sorry."
"Does it help?"
His head was still buried in my neck, his voice muffled. "What good is an apology now?
"You used me, deceived me, played with me like a fool."
"But even so, I can't stop thinking about you... I feel like an idiot."
I bit my lip and asked: "Valentine, can we have a proper talk?"
"You already know about the system, so you must know about other things too... there must be other ways to solve this. Can we talk it through?"
He lifted his head and smiled at me, the smile tinged with sarcasm. "Sure!"
"Swear you'll never leave first, then I'll talk to you."
I fell silent.
Back to square one.
Valentine had lost his mind, pushing our relationship into a deadlock.
---
After that conversation, I didn't speak to Valentine for a long time.
The nutrient infusion kept me alive but left me extremely weak, day by day. I could even feel the protruding bones beneath my skin...
Valentine, too, had grown thinner.
His face had become gaunt, his skin tightly drawn over his remarkable bone structure—not ugly, but darkened with a sense of madness and obsession.
One day, I watched calmly as the medicine was pushed into my body through the syringe. With some effort, I spoke:
"If I die, can you scatter my ashes in the ocean, not bury me underground... I want to feel the sun again."
I hadn't seen the sun in a long time.
What used to be so easily within reach had now become a luxury only attainable through death. Valentine's previously emotionless face instantly darkened.
"As long as you obey me, I'll let you out," I smiled weakly and buried my head in the blanket. "Go away, I don't want to see you."
Another day passed. It was probably raining outside. The syringe felt cool in my veins. Valentine brought me a fairy tale book.
Sitting by the bed, he read fairy tale to me in French the entire day. Honestly, I didn't have the strength to think anymore.
But I vaguely remembered telling him once, after watching the theatrical version of french film, how excited I was and said:
"French sounds so beautiful!"
"If someone could tell me a story in French, I'd definitely marry him."
I smiled and asked him:
"Do you think after I die, I'll become a star in the sky?"
He remained silent.
After a long time, he reached up and touched my head. "You won't die."
"I will."
I told him:
"No one likes being treated like a dog."
"I'd rather die as a 'human' than be kept here like a dog, wagging my tail and begging you."
His face was pale as he staggered out.
Perhaps he had no mood to wear new clothes. The suit hung loosely on him, as if he had just been through a severe illness—pitiful and terrifying.
Later, after the nutrient infusion, he often stared at me blankly.
Sometimes, he would bring me food and ask if I wanted to try it. I shook my head, hoarsely saying:
"Are you hungry? You can eat, don't worry about me." He remained silent for a moment, then suddenly let go.
The bowl crashed to the floor, spilling the food. His shoes stepped on it, the floor a chaotic mess. I instinctively closed my eyes.
But after waiting for a long time, I didn't hear his shout. When I opened my eyes, I saw his eyes red, tears dripping down his cheeks.
He cried.
"What should I do?"
He knelt down, his suit pants soaked in sauce, sticky and dirty, but he didn't seem to notice. He desperately asked me:
"What should I do to keep you, baby? I've lost, tell me, what should I do?"
I raised my hand and wiped away the tears that rolled down his face, silently letting out a breath. He had given up.
I had won this battle.
---
Going home was my bottom line.
This was something I would never compromise on.
The nutrient infusion could only sustain life for one to two months at most. I bet my life against Valentine's, and he lost.
He loved me. He lost.
He unlocked the chains and carried me out of the basement.
The long-awaited sunlight bathed my head. In a daze, I looked up through the glass window at the roses blooming in the garden.
"They're beautiful," I told him.
He tightened his grip on my arm.
When the doctor came to check on me, he sat on the sofa beside, expressionless, watching my arms, which had become so thin that the bones were protruding.
"Do you need the doctor to check on you too?"
I turned to him and said, "Valentine, you've lost weight too."
His movements paused for a moment, but he didn't respond. He didn't even acknowledge me, just stood up and walked out, his shoulders slightly hunched.
In the middle of the night, his burning body pressed against my back, and my shoulder was damp and cool. He was crying.
His fingers traced the bones protruding from my wrist as he sobbed, "I'm sorry."
"I didn't want to hurt you... I'm so sorry." He kept repeating it over and over.
I sighed and turned my body around.
He clearly didn't expect me to still be awake, and his crying stopped abruptly.
Tears still marked the corners of his eyes, and his expression was dazed, like a big, clumsy brown bear.
"Don't cry."
I reached up and wiped away the tears from the corner of his eyes.
"We both made mistakes. I'm not blaming you. Let's let this pass, okay? Let's figure things out, and everything will be okay in the future."
"Valentine, don't be sad anymore."
"If I could, I'd want to stay by your side... I love you." People are not stones; who could be without feelings?
I wasn't a heartless goddess, and even though I had used him, I couldn't help but be moved by his kindness.
Long ago, maybe a year ago, or even earlier, I realized that I loved him.
