Barefoot, I wandered aimlessly through the desolate streets. The bitter wind and snow lashed against my face, but no physical cold could compare to the chill in my heart.
Three years ago, on New Year’s Eve, Jameson had accepted my confession.
He said, “I’ve been protecting you since we were kids. From now on, you can entrust your life to me.”
He defied his family’s rules, stayed with me in my small rented apartment, and celebrated a New Year that belonged to just the two of us.
Back then, when the world was lit with festive lights, he was the brightest one in my life.
Now, I didn’t know how long I had been walking. My feet were numb, and every step felt like a distant echo.
A sudden crackle of firecrackers startled me.
I turned to see a group of children laughing and playing.
“Look! There’s a crazy barefoot lady walking in the snow! Hahaha!”
“Brother, she must be a monster! Let’s destroy the monster!”
Giggling, they began throwing firecrackers at me.
I stood there, quietly watching them, tears streaming down my face. Then, inexplicably, I started laughing along with them.
I took a step toward them, hoping they might share a sliver of their joy with me—just a little.