The Sleepless Snow

With a grunt, Jacob ended the session.

He stared at the photo and remained in a daze for a long time before he grabbed a napkin to clean himself.

When he looked down, I covered my mouth and quietly retreated back into the bedroom.

After I shut the door, I noticed that my hand was wet.

At some point, I had started crying.

I grabbed some napkins to dab at my tears, but they only made me cry even harder.

Against my will, memories of the past rose to the forefront of my mind.

Jacob was a true workaholic. He was incredibly restrained when it came to physical intimacy, to the point of being indifferent toward it.

During the three years we were together, whenever we had a moment of passion, he would just go through the motions, as if he were just completing a task.

During our anniversary last year, I listened to my best friend’s suggestion and wore a seductive, lace sleeping gown that I had meticulously prepared. I looked forward to being able to stir up his desire.

But there was no hint of desire in his eyes. He even asked me in puzzlement, “Is this really that important to you?”

The shame and embarrassment I had felt back then remained as a thorn in my heart.

I never knew that such a person would go wild over a single photo.

When I lay back in bed, I found myself unable to sleep.

The spot next to me remained empty, and the cold spread from my fingertips to my heart.

Over the course of the night, I would get up a few times, refusing to give up, and tiptoed in the corridor.

Every time, I would find that he was still in the study. When he held the book, he would occasionally chuckle. Other times, he would sink into deep thought.

I had never seen him look that relaxed and gentle before.

To others, Jacob had always been a decisive workaholic. When he was with me, he was also strict and restrained.

But that night, his defenses had crumbled down because of a book about his first love.

When I returned to the bedroom, I turned on my phone and spent a lot of effort before I found that novel again.

As I read it, I found that it was just a list-like record of a high school romance. The writing was shallow and amateurish.

That mediocre writing had been able to keep Jacob up all night.

I was sure that it was not the story itself that kept him so enchanted. It was the other protagonist in the story.

Before dawn, I turned off the glaring phone screen.

My last bit of hope died away, and I finally accepted the truth that I should have realized a long time ago.

Jacob did not love me.

If that were the case, there was no need for this wedding to be carried out any longer.

I got up and left the bedroom to find Jacob already sitting on the sofa in the living room.

Perhaps because he had been reliving old memories all night, but there was no sign of fatigue on his face, despite the all-nighter. Instead, there was a faint hint of bliss.

When he saw me, he said, “You don’t have to make breakfast for me today. I suddenly feel like having the waffles from the restaurant next to the company.”

My heart felt like it had been stabbed.

What he just said overlapped with a certain page in the book.

[Jacob commuted to school. Before class started every day, he would sneakily put warm waffles and milk on my table.]

He was so eagerly reliving and searching for the memories of the taste of food related to his first love.

What made me even sadder was that he had gastritis due to irregular eating caused by how busy he was with work. He could not eat anything greasy or spicy.

Hence, over the course of three years, I had prepared breakfast for him according to the suggestions from our nutritionist.

During my birthday, I had smiled as I made my wish. “I hope that my boyfriend will be able to eat my breakfast forever and never be hospitalized because of gastritis again.”

He had been moved back then, which was rare for him, and he gave me a peck as he made me a promise.

“Alright. I’ll have the breakfast you make forever.”

That was the only time we made a promise that spanned to eternity, but he had broken it easily because of Rain.

When I stopped reminiscing, I found that I was not trying to make him change his mind from worry, unlike before.

I just looked down to hide all of my emotions, and I nodded. “Alright.”

Perhaps Jacob never thought that I would react this way.

He was taken aback and wanted to ask me something when the doorbell rang and interrupted him.

I went to the door. When I saw who it was from the peephole, I was stunned.