Chapter 1

When Ethan White, Selena Quinn's first love, came to visit her on behalf of the school, he smiled softly, "Ms. Quinn's students are everywhere, thanks in no small part to your support, Mr. Green. But Mr. Green, you need to be more careful from now on. How did you let her catch a cold in the rain?"

My gaze shifted to the woman on the bed, whose hair was streaked with gray, but her eyes were locked intensely on Ethan. I couldn't help but offer a humorless smile, "Wasn't it you who invited her for that walk in the rain, leading to her getting sick? Or have you conveniently forgotten? Ethan, was it romantic? This is what she traded her health for."

When Ethan arrived for the visit, a group of students trailed behind him. At my words, they stood quietly in the corner of the room, exchanging nervous glances but too scared to say a word.

Selena's expression darkened, her eyes flashing with anger. "Jacob Green! What kind of nonsense are you spouting!" she yelled.

I had married Selena for forty years. She was an esteemed university professor, and I had been the quiet, steady force at home, tending to her needs.

For forty years, I watched as Ethan, her first love, would appear with every change of season. He'd seek her out to listen to the rain, admire the first snowfall, mourn the fallen flowers, and walk with her through the lush, green parks. Every moment seemed to drip with romance as if they were characters in a story written by fate.

But Selena had pollen allergies. A simple stroll in the garden left her itching and miserable. And who had always been there to care for her after these romantic escapades? Me. Always me.

This time, she had gotten caught in the rain as she was recovering from a major illness. All because Ethan had insisted that walking in the rain was the epitome of romance.

I had warned her.

Your health comes first, I had said.

But she brushed me off as she scoffed, "You have no sense of romance at all!"

Off she went with Ethan, down the tree-lined avenue.

Upon returning, she collapsed with a fever.

My heart turned cold at that moment. Ethan was her first love, the one she was supposed to marry before they mysteriously split up.

Later, she met me and married me. But then he came back, and it was as if she was pulled back into that old orbit. From that moment on, it was like a storm I couldn't stop.

Seeing the look on my face, Ethan quickly tried to smooth things over, offering an explanation. "Ms. Quinn and I were just discussing work..." he said.

I intervened, "I don't care about your work. Just keep the class schedules to yourself next time. Because I've never seen 'strolling in the rain' listed as part of any curriculum. Selena, I've taken care of you for forty years, and I'm tired. Find someone else to do it."

I put down the water cup, not caring if my words stung, and walked out of the room.

The sound of her violent coughing echoed behind me. Ethan's alarmed voice followed, but I didn't look back.

Outside the hospital, my phone buzzed. It was our daughter, Cecil Green. I answered.

"Dad, you're overreacting! Leaving Mom alone in the hospital like that?" she yelled. "Mr. White was just joking, and you're taking it so personally! Stop making a fuss and go back to take care of Mom."

As her vibrant voice filtered through the phone, a sense of disconnection clouded my mind.

Is this truly my daughter? I pondered.

Born of Selena, Cecil lacked any empathy for me.

My voice turned icy. "Cecil, you're an intellectual, too, but I don't think you care about your mom. Your mom's been sick for three days, and where have you been? You can't be bothered to sit by her bedside, yet you have the audacity to question me? Are you such heartless? If Ethan is so great, why don't you just let him be your dad?"

I ended the call, and within moments, my phone buzzed with a message from Cecil.

Cecil: [Dad, you're totally unreasonable!]

I shook my head, realizing my doting had perhaps been too generous, leading them to see my dedication as their due.

Selena, with her sensitive digestion and allergy-prone constitution, had driven me to master the art of soup-making, cultivating in her a taste for the exquisite.

Whenever she came back from one of her romantic outings with Ethan, she would need medication and my care.

I was utterly drained. This time, she had returned from a lecturing trip, leaving her grappling with stomach issues due to the unfamiliar environment. She had barely left the hospital. And yet, Ethan, with his poetic notions, called her away for another stroll in the rain.

I wanted to know what was inside Selena's head.

In the wake of her romantic whims, I spent the sleepless nights tending to her needs.

One sentence from Ethan could erase the tapestry of my dedication.

Their romance was woven through four decades of complex ties.

Upon returning home, I was greeted by the familiar sights of Selena's presence.

Flowers were her passion, transforming our balcony into a floral gallery.

I, a man of simple tastes, longed to cultivate vegetables, even if in a solitary pot. But she scoffed, "Why grow vegetables? This isn't some rural backwater; it's just not proper!"

Her disapproval was law, so I abandoned the endeavor, though my soul still craved the verdant embrace of vegetable leaves.

Now, it was time to move on.