One image, one message—they hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. A dull ache radiated from my heart, threatening to engulf my entire being.
Dizziness overwhelmed me, and I collapsed onto the couch.
When faced with undeniable evidence, the heart still struggles to accept it.
I felt suddenly adrift.
Since childhood, I'd believed the world was largely devoid of love.
I always wore tattered hand-me-downs and ate leftovers.
At home, I studied tirelessly and did chores from dawn to dusk, desperate for my father's attention.
But he never spared me a glance, and my efforts only earned me beatings from my stepmother for perceived shortcomings.
Ten years ago, I stood on a bridge, exhausted in body and spirit, ready to bid this world farewell.
It was York who grabbed my hand and wrapped a red and white checkered scarf around me, pulling me back from the brink.
I'd never forget his gentle voice saying, "The river's too cold in winter. You won’t like it."
When York appeared in the dark abyss of my life, he was like a beacon of light. From that moment, everything seemed to change.
He told me that what I needed to do wasn’t to leave this world but simply to leave that house.