[4]

“Do you realize,” Jupiter looked at Venus with clear disbelief, “how ridiculous your request is?”

Venus tried to smile brightly, even though her heart was in chaos.

“I hope you’ll grant me this one last foolish request.”

“But why?” Jupiter was still struggling to understand what Venus had just asked of him.

“What’s wrong with reliving our time together for two weeks?” Venus let out a long breath. She was afraid—afraid Jupiter would refuse. “After that… I’ll leave. I won’t appear in your life ever again.”

Jupiter exhaled softly and leaned back against his chair. His gaze lingered on Venus’s face as she tried to look composed, even though the unease in her eyes was impossible to hide. He wanted—so badly—to pull his wife into his arms. But…

“Two weeks,” Jupiter repeated quietly. “And after that, you really… leave?”

Venus nodded.

Jupiter fell silent for a few seconds. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Venus answered honestly. “And I hope you don’t mind. For you. For us… as we used to be.”

Jupiter nodded once. “All right. Then we’ll start over.”

***

That day, Jupiter kept his promise.

He recreated the very first day of their relationship.

He waited for Venus in front of the same restaurant where they had gone on their first date. The place stood grandly, with tall glass walls and an elegant interior. It looked almost exactly the same as it had a year ago unchanged by time. And it was filled with sweet memories, the place he had chosen for their very first date.

Back then, Jupiter hadn’t realized how shocked Venus was when he invited her to lunch at such a luxurious restaurant.

“This looks expensive,” she had said nervously. “Are you sure we’re eating here? What if we go somewhere else instead?”

Jupiter had wondered then—did Venus not know who he was? Even if she had wanted this place, he could have bought the restaurant without blinking.

Now, as Venus walked toward him, Jupiter felt that same familiar pull in his chest.

She was wearing the exact same outfit she had worn that day simple dress in a soft hue, no excessive makeup. Her hair fell neatly over her shoulders. There was nothing flashy about his wife at all.

And yet, that was precisely why Jupiter couldn’t look away. “You wore it on purpose, didn’t you?” Jupiter finally asked.

Venus gave a small smile. “I kept it. It’s still in good condition. Do you mind if I wear this dress again?”

“No,” Jupiter replied immediately. “You look just as beautiful as you did back then. But… why?”

“Because that day,” Venus paused before continuing, “I went home feeling happy.”

Jupiter swallowed. His chest felt warm—and at the same time, painfully tight.

Inside the restaurant, Venus sat the same way she had before. Her eyes wandered, taking in every detail with a genuine, unforced sense of wonder.

“Are you still surprised?” Jupiter asked.

Venus let out a soft laugh. “I still feel like I don’t belong here.”

“You’ve always belonged,” Jupiter answered without thinking.

The words left them both silent.

The food arrived. They began to eat slowly. At first, the conversation felt awkward, as if every word had to pass through a filter of emotion. But little by little, it softened.

“Do you remember?” Venus smiled faintly. “I used the wrong spoon.”

Jupiter nodded. “And you pretended everything was fine.”

“You laughed at me,” Venus protested.

“Only on the inside,” Jupiter countered, this time smiling for real.

That gentle laughter returned—warm, familiar. As if there were no divorce waiting at the end of their two weeks together.

Yet in the middle of it all, Venus said something that made Jupiter freeze.

“I want to remember everything,” she said, taking out her phone. “May I take some pictures?”

Jupiter hesitated, then nodded. “Do whatever you want.”

Venus took photos of the dining table filled with dishes Jupiter had chosen. The drinks. Even their shoes, placed side by side on the floor. Jupiter watched her quietly. There was something in Venus’s gaze—not pure happiness, but a deep sadness that weighed heavily on his chest.

After dinner, they went shopping—not because Jupiter needed anything, but because he wanted to give something to Venus.

But the warmth didn’t last.

When they returned home and stood at the doorway, Jupiter stopped her.

“There’s something,” he said.

Venus turned to him. “What is it?”

“For these two weeks,” Jupiter said, “until the divorce papers are officially signed… you’ll stay in this house.”

Truthfully, Jupiter didn’t want to say this—but he had to draw the line he’d already decided on. His hands clenched tightly. His jaw tensed, betraying how much he hated the words leaving his mouth.

Venus had wanted to protest, but… she didn’t have the strength. All she could do was nod weakly.

“And you?” she asked softly.

“I’ll stay at Granny’s house.”

Silence wrapped around them.

“All right,” Venus finally said. “I understand.”

Jupiter gave a brief nod, then turned away without looking back. He got into his car and drove off, leaving Venus standing alone at the front door. The moment Jupiter’s car disappeared from sight; Venus’s strength gave out.

She leaned against the door, then slowly slid down to the floor. Her tears broke free without a sound. One hand covered her mouth, holding back her sobs so no one would hear. Her shoulders shook violently.

“Just a little longer,” she whispered to herself. “Hold on just a little longer.”

Venus gently brushed her hand over her stomach.

None of this was for her.

It was for her child.

So that one day, when she showed those photographs—their smiles, the places they had visited—she could say with honesty: Your father loved us, even if he couldn’t stay.