Whenever I attended major conferences with my supervisor, I inevitably ran into Icarus.
He was the supervisor's prized student, often coming to greet him. His gaze would inevitably turn toward me.
I lowered my head, pretending not to see.
As for my relationship with him, I didn't tell any of my seniors or classmates in the department.
Everyone was too busy with their experiments and work to care about other people's gossip.
Until the gossip hit—
When Icarus stood on stage, holding the microphone, his gaze gently fixed on my direction, he slowly said:
"Also, I'm very grateful to my wife."
"She possesses a kind of spiritual strength that I envy. She's reminded me countless times that things aren't that bad, and pulled me out of the pit when I was at my lowest."
"Even during the most difficult times in our relationship, when I was wrongfully accused, she still found a way to prove my innocence, and then mocked me, saying 'If you can't even protect yourself from such tricks, don't bother anymore.'"
Laughter echoed through the room, and Icarus smiled as he smoothly moved on to the main topic:
"So, for this newly established brand, I've decided to name with my wife, Lavinia."
"Vivir la vida. Live life, eternal in Spanish."
Thunderous applause erupted around us.
My supervisor, sitting in the first row, turned around and gave me a meaningful look.
I lowered my gaze in silence, my cheeks slightly flushed, and my eyes couldn't help but fill with tears.
What Icarus was referring to was probably the time after I gave birth to Ismael, just out of my confinement period, when our relationship was at its lowest.
That night, he didn't come home. The next day, news came that he had been taken for investigation due to tax issues.
The board was in turmoil.
I braved the rain and went to the company, having a huge argument with the directors who wanted to take advantage of the chaos. I ordered a thorough tax audit and investigation.
I also had someone investigate the informant, uncovering a lot of issues within their company...
It was chaos.
By the time Icarus was released on bail, the situation had been largely resolved.
Leaning against the car, I crossed my arms and mocked him:
"How could you fall for such a scheme? Don't bother anymore."
He smiled wearily at me, reaching for me to hug him, but I pulled away.
"Ugh, you stink. Go take a shower."
I disdainfully got into the car.
This memory wasn't exactly a pleasant one.
I had just given birth, felt a little fat, a little ugly, and had pimples on my face.
Plus, I made a scene in front of the board members, and they all called me a "monster."
I never realized that the things I had been criticized for—my physical changes—were things Icarus never really cared about.
What attracted him was my soul, my will, my spirit—far more than this ever-changing, aging body.
On one Valentine's Day, he wrote in a card to me:
[You are beautiful, but I love you more for your passion and happiness, always, like a sun that never fades.]
Tears burned down my face.
I suddenly just wanted to hug him.
