The Fifth Year of Marriage to Him novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83

“Granny,” he said softly in the kitchen while Lucille remained outside, “sometimes I envy Lucille so much. Having a granny like you who treasures her…‘

“1

Summer cicadas droned beyond the window, their rhythmic chorus filling the afternoon. His voice cut through the vibrant hum–cool and piercing, like ice in midsummer heat.

The Stars of That Night

If it were before, Grandma would say: Silly child, I’m Lucille’s grandma, so of course I’m your grandma too.

Back then, Grandma knew their marriage had problems, but she believed kindness could melt any heart. Treat him well, and he’d surely return that warmth to Lucille.

But now, Lucille was clearly unhappy.

Though the girl tried hiding it, Grandma had raised her since childhood–how could she not see through it?

That comforting lie simply wouldn’t come anymore.

As Grandma sighed inwardly, she heard him stacking washed dishes. “Grandma, we’ll get you a dishwasher installed soon.”

Her thoughts interrupted, Grandma smiled. “No need for trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. We’ll move to our new place eventually, but renovations will take time.”

He added softly, “I’ve lost my grandma… but Lucille’s grandma is mine now.”

Suddenly, the air turned tart, like a lemon crushed against her heart.

That familiar ache spread through her chest–sharp and sour.

For Lucille, this ache was an old companion:

That sunset when his family threw cash at his face–she’d ached like this;

His defiant laughter under dusk’s glow, declaring he’d rather be kept than take their money-

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Chapter 83

288 Vouchers

she’d ached like this,

Finding him after three skipped classes, a black mourning band on his sleeve–she’d ached like this:

His return to class, whispering “Lucille, Grandma’s gone“–

Then the ache had surged like tidal waves.

The last time this ache came, was when Maricela left overseas. He’d said his only pillar had crumbled…

So many times this ache had come. She knew–it was her heart breaking for him.

Breaking for the radiant soul who hid such unspeakable sorrows.

That Thanksgiving, classmates complained about Pumpkin Pie yet all went home for family dinners–including her.

She went to Grandma’s house.

But he… had no grandma’s house to return to.

Walking back to campus after dinner, the air near dorms hung thick with flowering blossoms.

She spotted him on the path, slowing her steps.

Coincidentally, he slowed too.

She handed him a Pumpkin Pie–fresh meat filling, made by Grandma.

That night, they sat beneath the flowering tree, eating in silence.

The moon hung full. No stars dotted the sky, yet overhead, every flowering blossom shone like a star.

Without a word, they finished. He headed to the classroom; she turned toward the dorm.

Glancing back, she saw his lonely, slender silhouette. That night’s heartache threads of bittersweet honey, wrapping around her soul.

spun

into

Countless heartaches later, this honeyed ache finally crested–making her say “yes” without

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Chapter 83

hesitation when he proposed, even four years after graduation.

Sometimes she’d see posts online: “Pitying men brings a lifetime of bad luck.”

Back then, she hadn’t understood.

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