As I stood there lost in thought, I caught sight of her struggling to drag her suitcase out of the bedroom, the streaks of white in her hair at her temples more pronounced under the light.
My chest tightened and I felt a sudden sting in my eyes.
No matter what had happened, she was the woman who had shared my bed and my life for decades. She had given so much to this family and her sacrifices were not small.
I could not help but say, "Let me take you to the airport."
"Just so I can say goodbye."
She was ready to refuse, but after a moment, she nodded silently.
On the drive to the airport, she sat in the back seat, silently gazing out the window. I stayed quiet, feeling more like a taxi driver than her husband.
Every so often, I glanced at her profile through the rearview mirror and mixed feelings surged in my heart.
Questions burned in my chest. What did our years of marriage mean to her? What about the family we built together?
And what about the love I had poured into her?
However, I swallowed the words, holding them back.
Because there was a smile on her face that I had never seen before. It was a smile that radiated pure joy like a young girl’s.