Winter's End, My Beginning

The flame of the oil lamp flickered, casting my fragile shadow against the earthen wall. Tonight is the eve of Calvin Silva's return to the city; this realization pricks my heart like a slender needle. At this very moment in my previous life, I was clinging to his legs, crying and wailing, smearing my snot and tears all over his one unpatched shirt, hysterically begging him not to leave. But in the end, he still left, carrying his "unreasonable" disgust toward me, and the following year, he married a city girl, living in full splendor. And I, during that winter when medicine and care were scarce, died from a difficult childbirth on the cold earthen bed, with no one even to bring me warm water. "What are you daydreaming about?" Calvin Silva's voice brought me back. He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the wood grain along its surface. I pulled my gaze back and picked up the half-folded old cotton jacket he had laid out, carefully smoothing the cotton inside. "It's nothing. I was just thinking the city will be warmer than here, so this cotton jacket might not be needed, but you'll bring it anyway, just in case the weather changes." He froze for a moment, probably not expecting me to be so calm. In my past life, I would have already jumped up by now to accuse him of being ungrateful. How could I care whether he felt cold in the city? I pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from under the mattress and handed it to him. "This was sent by Jenny Watson, the daughter of the village party secretary next door. She said it can help you return to the city, much faster than waiting for an assignment." Calvin Silva's expression darkened instantly. He didn't take it but just stared into my eyes. "She came by yesterday and slipped it to me," I placed the paper beside his hand, my tone flat. "Jenny's a good girl, capable too. She suits you well." No sooner had I finished speaking than he suddenly grabbed the letter of introduction, crushed it into a tight ball, and then tore it apart fiercely. Bits of paper fell to the ground like shattered butterfly wings. "Carrie! What do you mean by this?" His voice was heavy with suppressed anger. "Are you just hoping I'll leave? Hoping I'll be with another woman?" I lowered my eyelids, concealing the mockery in my eyes. In my previous life, I fought desperately to keep him, and he said I was shackling his future; in this life, I pushed him away, and now he says I'm hoping he'll be with another woman. This man's thoughts are truly harder to figure out than the mud on a field ridge. "I just think this is a good opportunity." I picked up the scraps of paper on the ground. "Returning to the city is your wish; it's always better to wait a few days less." He stared at me for a long while, his eyes full of complexity. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh and turned to lie on the other side of the bed, his back to me.