Happily Ever After… With Another

In the tenth year of my marriage to a genius pianist, I came down with a strange illness.

A month ago, my husband missed my birthday party to care for his ailing sister-in-law. Night after night, I had waited for him to return home. But that night I forgot to wait at all and went to bed early.

Half a month ago, he attended an important performance with his sister-in-law. I had always been petty and prone to jealousy, yet this time I didn't get angry. I simply went home in silence.

Three days ago, I fell seriously ill with a burning fever. My husband rushed back from out of town in a panic—but only to tend to his sister-in-law, whose hand had been scalded.

When we ran into each other at the hospital, I was strangely calm. I, who used to be fiercely jealous, felt nothing at all. I forgot the promise we had made to grow old together. I even forgot how he once fretted over me for days when I'd scraped a bit of skin.

It wasn't until he said he wanted to bring his sister-in-law home and take care of her for the rest of his life that I—my memories riddled with holes—summoned the system at last.

"I want to go home."

"I have something to deal with in another world. I'll come back the day after tomorrow to take you home."

The system's familiar mechanical voice sounded again.

My vision blurred, my face drained of color. I forced a faint, bitter smile and answered softly, "I'll wait for you."

Ten years ago, I chose to stay. I believed I could walk hand in hand with Jonathan Elroy until old age. I believed I would never again have anything to do with the system. Who would have thought that ten years later, we would still lose to reality?

The door opened. Jonathan was back.

The moment he saw me, the cold lines of his face softened, a gentle smile spreading across his features. He strode over and pulled me into his arms.

"Natalie, why didn't you bring me food today? I'm starving."

There was a hint of coaxing in his voice. "You always used to."

As I watched him put on that mock-hurt expression, I lowered my eyes and said, "I forgot."

Jonathan was always busy with work and often forgot to eat. He ended up with stomach problems, and it was I who studied recipes day after day, slowly nursing him back to health. Even so, he was left with the old habit—skip a meal, and his stomach would ache.

I couldn't bear to see him suffer, so I made soup and delivered meals to him every day, rain or shine, for ten years straight. And yet today, I forgot.

Forgetting to bring him food was a small thing. There were many other things I had forgotten too.

Back then, the system had said that no one who chose to stay could grow old with