I Pray That You Forget Me - Chapter 2
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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I couldn’t believe what I was doing, even as I saw it with my own eyes. Stunned, I stopped for a moment before lifting my fingers again.
Once more, my left fingers pressed the strings on their own, and my right hand moved the bow by itself. I didn’t know what melody it was, but a familiar tune flowed naturally into my ears.
The mind might not remember, but the body does.
I don’t recognize it myself.
Startled by my unfamiliar appearance, I didn’t even realize that others were watching me. It wasn’t until the owner of the violin returned and asked that I snapped out of my daze.
“Rize, you know how to play the violin?”
“Oh my, I’m sorry.”
I thought I would be scolded for touching the cherished violin, but the old man didn’t accept the violin I offered and instead pushed it back towards me.
“No, keep going, you’re doing well.”
As I resumed playing almost involuntarily, the elderly people who had been listening with closed eyes marveled.
“You’re really good, aren’t you?”
“Rize must have been a rich girl, no doubt.”
“But I’ve never heard this before. What song is that?”
I replied that I didn’t know and continued playing.
Click.
As hands emerged from behind, abruptly stopping the performance by grabbing the violin, I looked up at the owner of the hands.
“Johann?”
Johann snatched the violin from my hand and handed it back to the old man. His expression wasn’t pleasant. I wondered why he was acting that way.
“Don’t overexert yourself.”
My husband was always like this. He behaved as if he wanted to shrink me to the size of a thumb and carry me around, enveloped in the softest petals, as if I were the most delicate flower in the world.
I understood why he was behaving like this. It hadn’t been long since I had survived a close call with death.
‘But playing the violin doesn’t strain the body… is it necessary to rush over and intervene?’
Johann had clearly run all the way from the cathedral, breathing heavily. I babbled excitedly as I was led by him.
“Johann, I know how to play the violin too.”
He didn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. Did he know this too?
“Do you know what piece I played a little while ago?”
Johann shook his head.
He knows.
I could tell from the momentary darkening of his expression that it would be a lie to say he didn’t know. My husband had lied to me. But I didn’t press him for answers.
“Rize, please don’t play the violin again.”
I didn’t ask for the reason either.
“Please. Just follow my words without questions. Someday, when the time comes, I’ll explain everything.”
As he requested.
About four months ago, the enemy dropped bombs on the place where we lived. I suffered a severe head injury then and lost much of my memory.
That’s how I became nothing more than an adult body, not much different from a child. Johann, who had married me not long before, must have found it burdensome to have a wife like me, but he took care of me with utmost sincerity, without abandoning me.
When I woke up and lost all my memories, having an unfamiliar man claim to be my husband and be by my side felt confusing and awkward. That’s how much I guarded against him and feared him.
Yet he steadfastly stayed by my side. It seemed that the past me had a very keen eye for a man.
“I promise. I won’t play the violin again.”
Though I don’t know the reason, it’s something that my husband, who was such a good person, forbids.
Johann is the best husband in this village.
This isn’t just the boast of a wife blindly in love, but the words of the village women. There aren’t any men like Johann in this rural community.
He doesn’t waste money on alcohol and cigarettes that have become luxury items because of the war. He is so faithful that he finds time to pray alone, not content with attending mass every morning without fail. He is diligent in his work.
In this mountain village where people are likely to become cold-hearted due to the scarcity of food and clothing caused by the war, the reason why the people here regard us an outsider couple with favor is that Johann is a good person.
Moreover, the local men here are said to beat their wives, curse at them, and be rough, but Johann has never done any of that to me. On the contrary, he was so polite and kind that it felt like I was a precious young lady from a noble house.
Although he’s a bit shy.
“How did we end up getting married?”
Even with such a simple question, Johann couldn’t meet my eyes and seemed embarrassed.
“…because I love you.”
To be so shy while whispering something so natural between a husband and wife.
“Of course, we got married because we love each other. How we met, how we fell in love, and when and how you proposed to me. I’m curious about the history of our love.”
Is it so embarrassing? Johann often blushed and tried to evade the question or escape.
But I liked his shy demeanor too. His expressions of affection, even in his shyness, were so full of love that it couldn’t be concealed.
Johann brings wildflowers to decorate our dinner table when he returns from work, while blushing like the setting sun every evening. He doesn’t say anything, but from the bouquet of wildflowers, with not a petal damaged, I can feel how much he loves me.
As I looked up bashfully, Johann smiled at me. I brushed away the strands of black hair that had fallen in front of his eyes due to his hurried running.
I couldn’t help but smile back, feeling like a nymph enchanted by the sun god.
