It's a Long Way to Her Heart

"18 hours from now, your body will experience destruction mode. You will then be returned to the 21st century."

Hearing the system's mechanical voice, I felt a brief daze wash over me. Softly, I murmured, "Okay. I'll wait for you."

After clearing the mission, I chose to stay behind in this other world—in its version of the 1980s—for my husband, Mark Chapman.

I had thought I wouldn't hear from the system until the day I died of old age, so it had come as a surprise that it would show up so soon.

Just then, Mark walked in, still in his military uniform, holding our daughter, Joanne Chapman's small hand. His posture was straight as ever, his features sharp and handsome.

He looked at me, confusion in his eyes. "Honey, who did you say you were waiting for?"

"It's nothing. Just talking to myself," I answered, lowering my gaze.

The dishes on the table had already gone cold. I took a few casual bites of the birthday cake and quietly wished myself a happy 30th birthday. At that, both Mark and Joanne's faces dropped.

He grabbed my hand, guilt written all over his face. "I'm so sorry, honey. Work was overwhelming today. I forgot your birthday. I'll buy you a brand new cake right now. Just wait for me!"

Joanne piped up right away in her soft, childish voice. "Happy birthday, Mommy!"

She held out a forget-me-not—a dainty blue flower—to me. I used to dote on her the most, but this time, I didn't take it. I also stopped Mark just as he was about to head out.

"Forget it. I'm not hungry, and it's getting late. Let's just go to bed early."

Mark pressed his lips together, then leaned in and kissed my cheek. Guilt lingered in his eyes. "Today's all on me. I got too caught up with work and forgot your birthday. Please don't be mad at me.

"Tomorrow, let Joanne and me make it up to you. We still have some food coupons left at home. Let's eat at House of Wish. It's your 30th birthday, after all. We must make it an occasion."

Joanne cheered, her face lighting up as she hugged my arm. "Mommy, I'll sing you a birthday song tomorrow, okay?"

My gaze drifted, unfocused. House of Wish was where Mark and I held our wedding reception.

The day we got married, he looked at me with so much tenderness in his eyes. "Eunice, in this life, only you will have my heart. I'll protect you, love you, and take care of you. I'll never leave your side, not even till the end of time."

Even after all these years of marriage, I had never forgotten those words. Not long ago, though, our village was hit by a once-in-a-century mudslide. Everyone was calling for their families, scrambling to escape.

Everyone except Mark. He ran against the fleeing crowd, not caring about the danger at all, just to look for Hayley Larkson.

Only after confirming that Hayley was safe did he remember me, working right below the path of the mudslide. He rushed over in a panic to check if anything had happened to me.

At the time, I didn't think much of it. In a crisis, it made sense that he would put the people first. It was only now that it truly sank in.

In his heart, and in Joanne's too, my place had long since stopped being important.

Mark asked again to make sure I didn't want another birthday cake. After I nodded, he said, "I'll take Joanne to bed first. You should turn in early once you're done, okay?"

I watched as he led her into the room. The moment they disappeared, the smile on my face faded. I turned back and began packing my things.

Since I had already decided to leave, there was no reason to leave any trace of myself in this home. I didn't have many belongings to begin with. One woven bag was enough to pack everything I owned.

Life in the 1980s wasn't easy for anyone. Whenever we had extra food coupons, I would use them to get clothes and daily necessities for the two of them.

Mark worked for a government unit, after all. He couldn't go around looking too worn out.

Yet, he used those extra coupons to exchange for nutritional supplements for Hayley, taking extra good care of her. The thought of it was almost laughable. How bitterly ironic.