[5]

“You know, my child,” Venus said with a faint smile. In her hands, she looked through the photos she had taken during their date earlier. “Your father is very handsome. I hope you inherit that from him.”

Her hand returned to her still-flat stomach, the movement soft and careful, as if she were afraid of hurting the small life growing inside her.

Venus wasn’t lying when she praised Jupiter Shaw.

To the world, Jupiter was a man of authority—firm, distant, cold, and hard to approach. But to Venus, her husband’s handsomeness wasn’t found only in the sharp line of his jaw or the intensity of his gaze. Jupiter was handsome in the way he quietly watched over her. In how he always stayed one step ahead. In how he protected her without ever needing to say much.

Venus remembered how Jupiter always made sure she got home safely. How he never forgot to remind her to eat on time. How, in crowded places, his hand would instinctively pull her closer. How he always positioned himself in front of her whenever something felt even slightly unsafe.

“Your father isn’t good with sweet words,” Venus murmured softly. “But he always made sure I was okay.”

She gave a small smile—then it slowly faded.

“If only I had known,” her voice trembled. “If only I had known our fate would be this cruel.”

Venus lowered her head, her eyes burning.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “Because i … am the reason we were separated.”

Her hand clenched tightly atop the blanket.

“If only I had known all of this from the beginning,” she continued, her voice breaking as sobs she could no longer hold back spilled out, “Mama would never have accepted your father’s proposal. Mama wouldn’t have fallen in love with him. Mama would have run as far away as possible—before these feelings ever grew this deep.”

Venus closed her eyes. Her chest tightened with regret that came far too late. She had believed happiness would save her from the past. Instead, the past had shattered the future she had only just begun to build.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook her consciousness. With her phone still clutched in her hand, Venus drifted into sleep, unaware, the tears on her cheeks slowly drying.

***

Morning arrived in a way that was anything but gentle.

Venus woke to a wave of intense nausea that forced her upright. She rushed to the bathroom, emptying whatever little remained in her stomach. Her hands trembled, cold sweat beading along her temples.

“Mrs. Venus?” a panicked voice called from behind the door.

Berta—one of the longest-serving attendants in the house—entered with a worried expression after receiving no response.

“You look terribly pale,” she said anxiously.

Venus tried to straighten herself. “I’m fine.”

“But you look very weak,” Berta insisted. “Please let me contact the main house. At least the Madam—”

“No,” Venus cut in quickly. “Please, don’t call anyone.”

Berta fell silent. “Mrs. Venus—”

“I’m begging you,” Venus said gently, yet firmly. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be all right.”

Berta nodded hesitantly. “At least drink this,” she said, handing her a glass of warm water.

Venus offered a faint smile. “Thank you, Berta.”

After Berta left, Venus stared at her reflection in the mirror. The servant had been pale, her lips dry, the light in her eyes dulled. Still, she forced herself to stand tall.

This is only the second day, she told herself. I can’t give up. Don’t you want to come on this date with us, my dear child?

Venus showered and got ready slowly. Just like yesterday, she chose an outfit reminiscent of their first date—more casual this time, just as Jupiter had requested back then when they went to watch a movie. She fixed her hair and applied a touch of lip balm so she wouldn’t look too washed out.

Right on time, the sound of a car horn echoed through the courtyard.

Venus stepped outside and found Jupiter already waiting. He was dressed exactly as he had been back then—a simple shirt and a light jacket that instantly stirred old memories.

Jupiter studied her for a moment. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Venus replied quickly.

Jupiter frowned, then slipped off his jacket. “Put this on.”

Before Venus could protest, he draped it over her shoulders. The warmth was just the same as it had been before—only now it carried Jupiter’s familiar scent, making Venus’s heart twist even tighter.

“Thank you,” Venus whispered.

Not long after, they arrived at one of the city’s most well-known shopping centers. Once, Venus had thought they would watch a movie like any other couple on a date. She had even decided that this time she would be the one to buy the popcorn.

But once again, Jupiter left her stunned.

The entire theater had been reserved.

When they stepped inside, the lights were dim, the rows of empty seats waiting silently for them. “You rented the whole theater again?” Venus asked.

Jupiter let out a small laugh. “I don’t like my dates being interrupted. Same as back then.”

“Over the top, as always,” Venus said with a faint pout.

“But you’re impressed, aren’t you?” Jupiter shot back.

Venus chose not to answer. Instead, she busied herself taking photos—of their tickets, the popcorn Jupiter carried, even the soda cups resting beside their seats. She snapped a few photos of them together as well.

The movie began.

Venus watched quietly, though her head throbbed now and then. What had happened that morning still left her uneasy. Still, she tried to stay calm—to smile, to laugh softly at the funny parts, to store every moment carefully in her memory.

When the film ended and the lights came back on, Jupiter stood.

“Wait,” he said.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. Venus looked at him in confusion.

Jupiter opened it.

Inside wasn’t a ring, but a necklace—with a small pendant shaped like the planet Jupiter.

“I’m not giving you a ring this time,” Jupiter said quietly. “But I want you to wear this.”

Venus held her breath.

“I don’t know what philosophy lies behind the planet Jupiter,” he continued. “But I want the Jupiter I’m giving you… to protect you. Wherever you may be.”

Venus’s hands trembled as she accepted the necklace. “Jupiter…”

“Think of it as… a replacement for the promise I once made,” Jupiter said softly. “Forgive me for breaking that promise.”

Venus clutched the necklace tightly, as if the small pendant were the only thing keeping her on her feet.

“I’ll keep it,” she said softly.

Jupiter nodded, then turned and walked away. Only when the car door closed and the sound of the engine faded into the distance did Venus lower her head.

Her hand drifted back to her stomach—this time lingering there. “Did you hear that, my love?” she whispered. “Your father still loves us… he just doesn’t know you’re here.”

Venus closed her eyes. And for the first time, she understood something truly terrifying—these two weeks might not be about preserving memories at all… but about preparing herself for a real goodbye. Tears slipped down Venus’s cheeks without her realizing.

“Well, my love… the next time we see your father, it will be our last goodbye.”