Out of Sight, Out of Mind

The scar that had followed me for thirteen years was suddenly gone.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

I opened the diary again and saw a new line of writing, but this time, the words were slanted and shaky, as though they were written by someone exhausted and weak.

[Anna, I saved you.]

Once my emotions calmed, I replied calmly: [That's what you should have done.]

If it were not for his love…

If it were not for that love, he would betray in the future…

How could I have ended up being found by Emily and lost the most important thing to a woman?

The thirty-year-old Ryan had a child with the very person who had hurt me, and once again, he hurt me.

The words in the diary wavered, unclear, as though the writer was struggling.

[Anna, is there anything else I can do for you?]

It was not until the seventeen-year-old Ryan wrote the final question mark that I replied: [I already told you. Leave me alone.]

[Disappear for good, and don't use your love now as a weapon to screw me over later.]

When everyone used to mock me for being unable to have children, it was Ryan who held my hand firmly, standing in front of me to shield me from the storm.

I feared no mockery, no insults, no venomous curses because of his love.

However, when he let go of my hand and joined the crowd that used to ridiculed me, I nearly collapsed in despair. I even thought about ending everything.

It could be said that the more he loved me in the past, the greater the pain he caused me later. It was a hundred, a thousand times more painful than the damage done to my womb.

My heart, long broken by him, would never beat again.

The sound of frantic writing filled the air, each word sinking deep into the paper, nearly piercing through it.

[This can't be true!]

[Anna, do you know? You used to stand by the third pillar outside the classroom, listening to music every day after class. I'd deliberately take a five-minute detour just to catch a glimpse of you. Just seeing you made me so happy.]

[One time during gym class, I heard you had a fever. I was so worried that I rushed out of school to buy medicine for you, afraid you'd suffer even for a second longer…]

[And there's more…]

I interrupted him. [I know. I know everything.]

[There was one time during my period, and you blushed as you went out and bought me sanitary pads.]

[There was another time when I was bullied by the school bully. The moment you heard about it, you went straight to confront him. Neither of you showed up at school for a week. He ended up with a broken leg and had to transfer, and you got your head smashed, spending a whole week in the hospital.]

The diary paused for ten seconds before responding: [You know all that? How do you know?]

[The future you told me. You told me everything one by one and said you regretted it all.]

Ryan had once said that he should have listened to advice and never married me, the woman who could not have children and that it had led to five years of shame.

He also said that he should have let the school bully continue to torment me, that saving me so soon only made me ungrateful, pushing him further away.

He always boasted about his great accomplishments and then did whatever he wanted in our marriage until now, when he had a child with the woman who had once hurt me.

Tears fell onto the diary, blurring the ink.

I was terrified of damaging the diary, knowing I could not change the past. I hurriedly tried to wipe it off but pressed too hard, tearing the page in half.

In a moment of panic, I suddenly realized that everything around me had transformed into a hospital room.

Before me lay a seventeen-year-old boy with his abdomen wrapped in thick bandages.

His face was pale. His wound pulled at his furrowed brow in pain.

The seventeen-year-old Ryan held the bloodstained bandage with one hand and wrote laboriously with the other, mumbling to himself.

[Anna, don't worry. I'll protect you. I'll never hurt you…]

His serious, determined face was like he was working on something of utmost importance.

Just as he wrote this, the seventeen-year-old him seemed to sense something.

His hand stopped abruptly, and our eyes met the moment he looked up.

"Anna?"

In that instant, the eyes I had longed forgotten, as pure and clear as crystal water, met mine once more.

His dry lips parted to speak, but before he could, the sharp ring of a phone interrupted.

I looked around and saw that the house was in chaos.

It was all caused by thirty-year-old Ryan.

The phone rang loudly.

It was a call from the thirty-year-old Ryan. He spoke with an authoritative tone, "Come to the café downstairs at the company right now. Emily and I need to talk to you in person."

More words appeared in the diary at the same time.

[Trust me, okay? I would never do that.]

[I love you so much that even if you wanted to take my life, I'd let you.]

The naive and eager young boy believed promises would become the most beautiful rose.

One that would never wilt as long as it was given to the one he loved.

I tightened my grip on the pen, and my gaze dropped.

Fine.

If you did not believe me, then I would let the thirty-year-old Ryan tell you himself.