I Pray That You Forget Me - Chapter 3
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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Moreover, according to the words of a woman, who had taken refuge from the city like me, it is said that not all city men are as outstanding and sophisticated as Johann.
How did I end up marrying such a perfect man?
“The weather is still chilly.”
Johann sat me at the table and took off his coat, draping it over my shoulders. As he adjusted the collar, his fingers brushed against my collarbone.
I flinched.
His hand quickly retreated, unfortunately.
Though the touch was momentary, the lingering sensation felt like a scorching ember that wouldn’t easily dissipate.
Every time I saw his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and on the rare occasion his hand touched me, Johann was undoubtedly unaware of how my heart raced uncontrollably.
“I’ll take care of the work, so you just sit there.”
Seeing him love me like a child, I couldn’t help but wish he would love me differently. Like an adult. Like a woman.
There was only one thing missing for this perfect husband.
Physical intimacy.
He doesn’t touch me.
As evening fell, the villagers, inebriated with alcohol and music, paired off regardless of age and danced. Yet, we sat side by side at the table, merely watching them.
“Even Peter with his wooden leg is dancing. Why are the Renners just sitting there? Come on!”
One of the older women kept gesturing to us.
‘Johann, I want to dance too.’
Gathering courage from the others’ enthusiasm, I sent him a meaningful look, and only then did Johann, looking flustered, extend his hand to me.
His large hand enveloped mine, handling it with extreme care as if afraid of breaking my hand.
‘It’s warm. Soft. Kind.’
I enjoyed holding hands with Johann, but he rarely did so unless necessary.
Our bodies touching was a rare pleasure. In fact, even the briefest of grazes or brushes against each other was a luxury.
‘What would it feel like to snuggle into that broad and sturdy chest?’
I couldn’t recall a time when I had felt that warmth, even as our bodies lay side by side every night in the same bed.
There hadn’t been any firm, sealed lips approaching me, nor any embrace that might encircle me.
It had only just occurred to me that we hadn’t kissed since I woke up. We hadn’t even exchanged the simple gesture of pecking each other’s cheeks.
While we danced honestly, couples who had once been lost in passionate kisses abandoned the square and disappeared into the darkness.
Shortly after, Johann led me into the darkness. Relying on a small lantern, we continued to hear strange, hot sounds as we made our way to the farmhouse.
The sound of wet grass and hay rustling faster and faster. Clear, exuberant cries and rough breathing escaping unguarded mouths.
Johann quickened his pace as if his patience was wearing thin in the midst of those in the barn or the woods. My heartbeat quickened in tandem with my steps.
‘Perhaps tonight, we might finally make love.’
To my recollection, we hadn’t been intimate as a married couple. When I was discharged and we started living together, I had worried about how uncomfortable and awkward Johann still seemed to be. I had fretted about what would happen if he demanded intimacy between us.
But now, my worries had reversed to the point where the concerns of my past self would seem comical.
‘Why doesn’t my husband make love with me?’
Despite getting caught up in the festival atmosphere and hoping for something different tonight, it had all been in vain.
After we climbed up to the attic we rented, Johann washed up and got into bed, bidding me good night before closing his eyes as usual.
“Johann.”
I looked at him in the darkness for a moment before finally asking.
“Did we consummate our wedding night?”
He blinked as if he hadn’t fallen asleep, looking at me, but his gaze quickly averted as soon as our eyes met.
‘What? No way…’
I was so surprised that I sat up.
“Did we…”
“We are a married couple, so of course we did on our wedding night.”
Ah, was it just me being awkward? I was too embarrassed to ask how our wedding night had been.
‘If you experience it once… you’ll know without needing to ask, right?’
Turning my body towards him, I huddled and said,
“Johann, I’m cold.”
He would hold me then. If I stayed like that, Johann would naturally do what a man should do.
However, what enveloped my body was not Johann’s body, but the thick coat he had taken out of the closet.
“Please bear with this for today. I’ll ask Mrs. Koller to get us some blankets tomorrow.”
“…”
“Then, have a good dream.”
We were a married couple. Yet my husband didn’t touch me.
I have lost my memory and know very little. I don’t know how I came to know how to play the violin, how such a perfect man ended up marrying me, or that we had spent our wedding night together.
But this I do know.
Our marriage is not ordinary.
