Hubby jets off on a solo vacay, too impatient to wait for his wife. A week later, he’s back from the Bahamas and finds this…

Janice lost her mother at the tender age of 18. She had since been living with her aunt, but she always felt like an outsider. Her aunt insisted that Janice receive the same treatment as her own children, but Janice knew otherwise.

She understood there was no substitute for a mother’s love. She managed to stick it out with her aunt’s family until she could escape to college. In the blossoming phase of their relationship, living with Sean was nothing short of a paradise for her.

The world seemed brighter, and their home was a cocoon of joy and love. However, as the leaves of time turned over, she began to unravel a less pleasing facet of shock. She realized he was more aware of her vulnerabilities than she had ever been, and was subtly manipulating them for his own advantage.

Sean was employed part-time, a fact she was initially accepting of. Meanwhile, she dutifully clocked in her full-time hours, not begrudging him his seemingly easier schedule. However, she began to recognize an unspoken expectation falling heavily on her shoulders.

The household chores were her domain alone. Every single day, she found herself knee-deep in dirty laundry, battling with stubborn stains and ironing out wrinkled clothes. Her hands constantly pruned from washing the never-ending pile of dishes, remnants of their meals serving as a constant reminder of her thankless job.

And cooking? That was an internally different ballgame. Every night, like a ritual, she would be seen juggling pans and pots, stirring a delicious meal for Sean, who was ensconced in his own world. Despite all this, she remained silent, choosing to swallow her frustration rather than voice it.

Oh well, it’s just one of those things, she would often mutter to herself, downplaying her growing resentment. Sean, on the other hand, was oblivious to her mounting exhaustion. He relished in the luxury of sleeping late, the sun high and bright before he would even stir from bed.

His days were often spent locked away in his computer room, engrossed in his virtual world, leaving her alone to manage the real one. One evening, while she was busy stirring the pot, she called out, Sean, could you please give me a hand with setting the table? Little love, came the distant reply from the computer room as always. She sighed, dropping the subject, just as she had done countless times before.

Yet the silent plea for acknowledgement lingered in the air, marking the growing distance between them. When Sean’s father Robert fell seriously ill, Sean implored Janice to move in with him, expressing a dutiful desire to look after his ailing father. Robert was aging, frail, and evidently incapable of managing himself alone.

But as Janice had anticipated, she ended up shouldering the responsibilities of two men instead of one. However, Janice held no resentment toward Robert. Instead, she embraced him as though he were her own father, caring for him with patience and kindness.

Robert, in turn, grew exceptionally fond of Janice. He noticed, perhaps more acutely than she realized, the imbalance in the way his son treated her. One day, he shared cryptic advice with her, saying, You, my dear, were never meant to settle.

His words puzzled her, leaving a question in her mind that would resurface later. When Robert’s health improved, he suggested they return to their own home, grateful for his recovery but exhausted from the additional caregiving. A few months after they were settled, tragedy struck Janice’s family.

Her aunt succumbed to a heart attack. Although Janice felt a twinge of sadness that she wasn’t treated with the same warmth her aunt showed her own daughters, her heart still ached at the loss. After all, it was this woman who sheltered and fed her after her own mother’s untimely death.

Deep down, she harbored a profound love for her aunt. Three days into her mourning, Sean lost his temper at Janice. She’s dead, Janice.

Stop bringing her up, and for God’s sake, stop crying. He exploded. Sean, Janice retorted, her voice wavering.

It’s only been three days. She hadn’t even cried that much. Her grief was mostly silent, carried in her heart rather than shown on her face.

Yet Sean seemed to have little understanding or patience for her quiet sorrow. Now, in the bustling airport, Janice snapped back to reality from her chain of thoughts. A part of her wanted to confront Sean to vent her anger on his mistress.

But it was too late. They had vanished into the crowd, while the airport buzzed with people rushing to catch their flights. She stumbled out into the street, vision blurred with tears.

As she blindly bumped in to pass her by, they deftly steered clear of her. In her emotional haze, she took a turn into a quiet alleyway and found the bench blanketed with snow. She sat down and let her tears flow freely.

Janice lost track of time. She was roused from her sobs by the biting cold. In her emotional fog, a blizzard had crept up on her.

She stood up, dusted the snow off, and rubbed her frost-coated eyes. Her eyelashes were fluffy with ice crystals, a sight that might have been beautiful if she could have seen it. As she started walking towards the exit of the alley, she noticed a man hunched over on the curb, his figure coated in snow.

Her first thought was that he must be out of his mind to sit in this freezing weather. She was too wrapped up in her own turmoil to concern herself with him. As she walked past him, a glimpse of his eyes, empty and lost, tugged at her heartstrings…