Quitting You for Good

"Don't worry. I'll cover all the costs myself," I added.

I approached Mr. Bennett after the family banquet ended.

On the day of the family banquet, Earl poured a basin of hot water over the old cypress tree right in front of me. Then, he looked at me tauntingly and said, "Let's see if Vivian will still want you now that you can't make the pillow mist anymore."

The only thing Vivian carried with her every day was the pillow mist I made for her. No matter how jealous Earl got, there was nothing he could do about it.

In my desperation to save the old cypress tree, I accidentally pushed him.

Yet, I never expected that when Vivian saw it, she would have me tied to that old cypress tree and leave me dangling there all night.

No matter how much I begged for mercy, she simply said, "Take some time to think about what you did."

Then, she hooked her arm through Earl's and walked away.

I fought to untie myself until late into the night, so much so that my hands had turned a terrifying shade of purple from poor circulation.

As if sensing my despair, the thick branch of the old cypress tree broke.

I held onto that final sliver of hope and called Vivian.

The moment the call connected, her cold voice came through.

"Allen, haven't you learned your lesson yet? You frightened Earl today, so I need to keep him company. Don't bother me unless you're dying."

Then, Earl's affectionate voice rang out. "Vivian, it's your turn to shower."

Trembling, I hung up and lay on the ground, letting my tears soak the earth beneath me.

Finally, I called Mr. Bennett.

…

In the living room, Vivian still thought I was being unreasonable.

"Allen, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happened yesterday!"

Me?

I laughed. "You're right. It's all my own fault that I've ended up in this situation."

…

It was because Vivian was kidnapped that I came to meet her.

At the time, she was locked in a pitch-dark warehouse. My father, Thomas Osborne, rescued her and brought her home.

She was covered in injuries when she was rescued, so Dad asked me to take care of her.

As we spent more time together, we gradually developed feelings for each other. Even after her parents took her home, we still kept in touch.

Perhaps due to post-traumatic stress, Vivian began suffering from insomnia and couldn't find relief no matter what treatment she tried.

She said the moment she closed her eyes, she'd be back in that dark, decaying warehouse. There was no light, and no one else was there. I wasn't there either.

As much as hearing that broke my heart, there was nothing I could do.

Then, one day, she came back to visit Dad and unexpectedly fell asleep under the old cypress tree in our yard. She had her first full night of peaceful rest in a long time.

I started making pillow mist from the leaves of the old cypress tree and sending it to her.

She carried it with her every day, and her insomnia gradually improved.

Later, so that I could always prepare the freshest pillow mist for her, I gave up an opportunity to study abroad and instead chose to enroll in the art program at her college.

On graduation day, Vivian took my hands, which were covered with scratches. As she looked at them, tears of heartache fell.

To help her company expand into new markets, I put down my paintbrush and began accompanying her to various networking events. The two of us worked together seamlessly and soon carved out a place for ourselves in the market.

One day, after drinking, she took my hand and murmured, "You were the one who pulled me out of the darkness. I want to hold your hand for the rest of my life."

Her cheeks were flushed. As she spoke, her eyes sparkled like a sky full of stars.

Against my better judgment, I nodded.

That very night, we pledged ourselves to each other for life.

However, now, she had personally destroyed the very hands that gave her a second chance at life.

The night of the family banquet, Mr. Bennett took me to the hospital, only for the doctor, Saul Hart, to tell me that the nerve damage in my hands was so severe I might never be able to draw again for the rest of my life.

Mr. Bennett suggested I press charges against Vivian for assault.

I turned him down for the time being and told him to focus on the divorce proceedings first. If that didn't go through, we could always bring in the additional evidence later.

The pain of rehab therapy ripped me straight out of my memories.

Dr. Hart looked at my hand, and the sorrow was plain on his face.

"What a shame. If you'd been brought in just an hour earlier, your hands could've been saved."

I smiled, though my face was as pale as a sheet.

"It's okay. At least I'm free now."

No more pulling all-nighters on design drafts for the sake of Vivian's career.

No more getting my hands scratched while plucking cypress leaves.

And no more chasing after Vivian, waiting for her to look back.