Chapter 4: An Empty Life

Reading Settings

Translator: Soafp

---

It had been nine years since my husband disappeared. Before I knew it, I had turned forty.

Twice I had trampled on my husband's feelings. Even my own parents had given up on me, and yet I kept walking down this path.

Regret came far too late, and I couldn't even deliver my apologies anymore.

Five years ago, I began writing letters.

The recipient was my husband's parents.

For the first year, they returned them unopened. But I desperately wanted to apologize, so I wrote again and again.

A lawyer contacted me, telling me to stop.

My parents, too, scolded me when they found out. But I just couldn't stop.

After two years, for the first time, I received a reply from my in-laws.

[We don't need your apologies anymore. Our son's heart is broken. Even so, he is finally starting to recover, so please leave him alone.]

That was what it said.

“He's still… like that…”

Realizing my husband's heart remained shattered, I cried over my own unforgivable sins.

His parents seemed to know where he was and what kind of life he was living, but they told me nothing.

“You have no right to know,” his father said sadly.

“Think about your own life instead,” my mother told me.

Her words meant she wanted me to rebuild my life, start over, perhaps even form a new family.

Relatives urged me, even forced me into arranged meetings, but I couldn't bring myself to move forward.

I still send an apology letter once a year.

There are rarely replies, but that's fine.

It's the only thread connecting me to my husband.

Our son is now fourteen.

From middle school onward, he stopped living with me, instead staying at my in-laws' home while attending school.

Since his private middle and high school were closer to their place, it made more sense.

Nine years ago, I returned to work.

I started part-time, but five years ago I became a full-time employee.

The salary isn't great, but it's enough to live on.

I pass money from my paycheck to my in-laws—for his school fees and allowance.

I can't just keep relying on them forever.

My son has little memory of his father.

When he was three, after my affair was exposed, we tried to rebuild our marriage. During that time, he often stayed with my in-laws.

Two years later, my husband vanished.

It's no wonder my son barely remembers him.

And even now, I still live alone in that house.

Our home, where no one but me remains.

Almost nothing of my husband's belongings is left.

The car he loved, his bicycle, his fishing gear—all gone.

Everything has vanished like a mirage.

Even our marriage, our life together, feels like an illusion.

My parents have told me many times to sell the house.

They say my husband will never return here.

Of course, I know that.

But this house was something he and I bought together, pooling our strength.

Back then, we dreamed of a bright future, and those memories bind me here.

And yet, why did I betray him?

Loneliness? The other man's manipulation? None of that excuses it.

The moment I cheated, I became a hopeless, worthless person.

Even now, looking back on those days, I can only say I was insane.

And as long as I talk that way, I know I haven't truly repented.

Manipulated by a cunning man, I even defended him when my affair was exposed.

During reconciliation, I kept in contact with him.

No wonder my husband's heart broke.

At the time, I couldn't even see that.

I never wanted to know what became of that man, but once, an old colleague told me.

He tried again—this time with another married woman.

But that woman rejected him, saved the evidence of his advances, and reported him to the company. They went after him mercilessly.

“Pathetic. Just because it worked once,” she said with amusement.

“Yes,” I replied.

Her words were scorn, aimed directly at me—the fool who had taken the bait.

He lost his standing at work, was demoted. The company couldn't protect him a second time.

Unable to endure the contempt, he eventually quit.

He failed to find steady work and sank into a life of alcohol.

Even though I never wanted to know, people told me anyway.

Once, he even came to my house.

“Fumika, please… come with me…”

He was haggard, wretched. Disgust welled up inside me.

Of course, I drove him away. He screamed at me as I pushed him out.

“Don't screw with me! You ruined my life!”

That was his true self. Just as my parents had warned me—cunning, cowardly, despicable.

He shouted in front of my house until neighbors called the police.

He was taken away, and after that, he never came back.

I'm sure my in-laws handled it quietly.

“Hm?”

After work one day, I checked the mailbox.

There was an envelope.

“…What's this?”

It was addressed to me.

No sender written. The postmark was from nearby.

“Who's it from?”

In the living room, I opened it.

“…This is…”

Inside were several sheets of stationery.

The graceful handwriting caught my eye.

“I see… so that's it…”

It was about my husband's current life.

Three years ago, he had remarried.

Now my husband—no, my ex-husband, Masashi—was living peacefully in a faraway place.

“…I see.”

The letter went on.

He had started working again a few years ago, and was respected by the local people.

Masashi had even begun to talk about the past.

But… it said he still didn't remember our son well.

“…That can't be true.”

He had adored our son so much.

When our child was born, holding him in his arms, he wept and said again and again, “Fumika, thank you… I'm his father now.”

The letter neared its end.

My hands trembled, my throat went dry.

But I couldn't look away.

[ I will rebuild his heart myself. One day, your child may meet him. ]

[ But you will never see him again. To him, you are poison. ]

[ We will live our married life, taking your nightmare of a marriage as a lesson to avoid. ]

[ Naturally, I will never betray him, never betray Masashi. You, on the other hand—do your best to live your life, however you can, in that house. I pray you may find some happiness there. ]

The last words pierced my heart.

The reality that my sin had robbed Masashi of his happiness, robbed my son of a father—what hurt most was that the happy days we once had could never return.

“…I'm glad, Masashi.

I'm glad you found happiness.

I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…”

My sins will never vanish.

Regret changes nothing, and the reality cannot be undone.

Alone in my empty home, in my hollow life, I could do nothing but cry.

End

Side story: Link