No Goodbye, Just Gone

"Mr. Gilbert, I want to try for that women's federation job," I said.

The village head, Mason Gilbert, sounded surprised over the phone. "Gisselle, are you sure? Life in the village isn't like the military base. Wouldn't it be better for you and Darryl to stay there with Kyson instead?"

It would be better.

Aside from the fact that my husband, Kyson Hale, wouldn't let our son call him "dad", everything was perfect.

I glanced at the poster on the wall and forced a bitter smile. "I'm not used to it. I want to go back to the village."

Not wanting to waste money on calls, Mason didn't push it. "Well, you've been raising Darryl alone all these years anyway. Kyson's presence doesn't really matter. Come back next week. I'll take you to report for duty."

After thanking Mason, I returned clumsily to my temporary home. It was a small single-story house.

In the yard were two freshly tilled plots with a few scattered seedlings.

On my very first day on the military base, I borrowed seeds from the neighbor.

I spent the whole day tending the garden, planting vegetables, and with them, hope for the future.

But when Kyson came home that night, the first thing he did was tell me to dig up the plants.

He said, "Gisselle, haven't I given you money? Why grow vegetables in the garden? Don't you think it makes you look poor and desperate?"

I fumbled with my apron, trying to explain. "I just saw others planting, so I thought, since I have nothing else to do, I might as well save a little money on groceries."

Kyson frowned, his annoyance clear. "Don't bother. This isn't the countryside. There's no need for your pointless efforts. Jodie was right. A hick will always be a hick. You'll never measure up to her."

I lowered my head, and every spark of enthusiasm vanished in an instant. All that remained was an overwhelming sense of bitterness.

Jodie Duncan was a soldier in the art troupe and Kyson's true love in the military.

I was just his abandoned wife from the countryside. Of course, I couldn't measure up to her.

That night, after my son, Darryl Hale, was asleep, I quietly went out to the yard. I dug up every seed, and with them, the last shred of hope I had for Kyson.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I masked my sorrow and pushed open the door.

Darryl was already awake, sitting at the table and eating breakfast.

His face lit up when he saw me. "Mom, welcome back! I'm almost done. I'll come help you after I finish."

Darryl was my and Kyson's son. He was seven now.

People said poor kids matured fast.

Throughout the years I spent taking care of my in-laws in the countryside, Darryl had always been such a good boy.

I smiled and straightened his messy collar. "It's okay. I don't need your help. Go play with your friends after breakfast."

At that, his eyes immediately clouded over, and tears welled up. "Mom, they said I'm shameless for staying at someone else's house. They don't want to play with me. Isn't this our home?"

Too young to hide his feelings, he just stared at me blankly, desperate for an answer.

My nose stung, and tears came faster than words.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. It felt like my heart had been plunged into a pit of sorrow.

Seeing me cry, Darryl quickly wrapped his arms around me. "Don't cry, Mom. I won't ask anymore. I'll be a good boy."