Please Forget Me - Chapter 30
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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Eventually, I learned how to use an axe from Johann and gave it a try, but my performance was meager, managing only twice. It took me a whole week of awkwardly swinging the axe, barely hitting the log, before I could do it properly.
“Johann, was I this weak before?”
“No, you were the nurse who could turn over even the biggest patients by yourself.”
But with my current strength, it seemed I would be the one needing care, not giving it.
Apparently, I had lost my former strength after spending a long time bedridden due to illness.
The realization that I wasn’t always this weak ignited determination in me, along with the hope that I could become stronger.
Since then, I have been diligently eating and working hard to build my strength.
Two months later, the fruits of my labor started to show. My arms, once just bone and skin, now have muscles, albeit still slender, and I can chop wood six times in a row.
So now I can do tasks like picking grapes, but the vast vineyard makes non-stop work overwhelming. Overwhelmed by the scorching autumn sun, we took a break under the shade of a tree.
As I embraced Johann from behind while he was sitting and reading, I leaned against his broad back and he asked,
“Changed your mind?”
“No, I haven’t changed, so keep reading.”
The sound of his soft chuckle mingling with the rustling of pages was comforting. I no longer felt anxious about Johann focusing on his book instead of me.
Closing my eyes, I listened to his breathing, the rustle of pages, and the wind in the leaves above us. I took in Johann’s scent, feeling utterly at peace.
“Ah…”
It was as I nestled my cheek against Johann’s shirt, heavy with his scent, that he flinched.
Did I accidentally touch the scar?
My husband has a scar on his back. I, his wife, only found out about it a month ago when Johann turned around to dress after we made love in broad daylight.
I was shocked to see a long, entangled scar on his back. It immediately struck me as a burn mark, which made me wonder if I was really a nurse.
“Johann, are you hurt? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
But it turned out to be a scar from his childhood.
Could it still hurt?
I wanted to ask if touching the scar made him flinch, but I hesitated, then held back. Johann seemed to dislike talking about his scar.
“There must be a way to get rid of old scars.”
When I suggested asking the village grandmothers about herbs for scar removal or checking in a pharmacy in the city, Johann shook his head.
“Rize, this scar is a badge of honor for me. I don’t want to get rid of it.”
But he also seemed not to want to discuss it. Even though he called it a badge of honor, he treated it more like a brand he wanted to hide.
Johann had changed, but one thing remained constant: he still remained tight-lipped about the past. In fact, he was even more resolute than before, continually saying,
“Let’s forget the past and live for the present.”
So, I didn’t bring up the scar and tried to quietly move away. However, Johann caught my hand and pulled me back against his waist.
“Rize, you must be a devil.”
Ah, it wasn’t the scar that bothered him, but the fact that my closeness made it hard for him to resist.
Whenever I added fuel to his already burning desires, Johann would call me a devil.
“A devil showing heaven? No, I must be an angel.”
I leaned my head back against his back and closed my eyes. As my chest pressed against his back, Johann let out a long sigh mixed with a groan.
He had to resist because I didn’t allow it, but it wasn’t easy for him. He kept fiddling with my left hand resting on his abdomen.
Our left hands were still without rings.
I had planned to sell my solitary wedding ring to buy new ones, but Johann was against it. With the war showing no signs of ending, the price of gold kept rising, so he wanted to wait and sell it when we were in dire need. But that wasn’t the only reason he opposed it.
“Our wedding rings will be bought with money I’ve earned.”
Could it be that our first wedding rings weren’t bought by Johann? Being newlyweds, the rings had many scratches and seemed faded, indicating they might have been family heirlooms.
Nevertheless, Johann was working and saving more diligently than before. It was the harvest season, so there was plenty of work, and our savings were growing robustly like pumpkins in fertile soil.
But this was only seasonal. Work would diminish in winter.
“We should look for a job that’s stable and sustainable year-round.”
Though everyone said he should return to teaching, it wasn’t easy. Johann’s diplomas and teaching certificates were likely burned along with the house, and the schools he had worked at had closed, leaving no one to vouch for his work history.
Just when he was about to give up, help arrived. The village priest, who thought highly of Johann’s faithfulness and integrity, obtained a recommendation letter from the bishop.
Thanks to this, Johann was able to work as a writing teacher at a school at the foot of the mountain.
