chapter 6

As I climbed the stairs, my exhausted body screamed in protest. My night shift had been a never-ending marathon, extended because all the other staff members had called in sick. I had started working at 1 pm and didn't finish until 6 am. The thought of it made me want to collapse.

My boss, Mr. Kelvin, was a heartless man who didn't care that I was a pregnant ger. He seemed to take pleasure in making my life more difficult, simply because I was an unmarried, pregnant ger. In our society, gers like me were treated like outcasts, and Mr. Kelvin reveled in reminding me of my "inferior" status.

As I climbed the stairs, my legs aching and my back throbbing, I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I was so tired of being treated like dirt, tired of being judged and criticized simply because of my circumstances.

I knew I had to get out of this situation, for my own sake and for the sake of my unborn babies. By the time I was six months pregnant, I wouldn't be able to climb these stairs anymore. I needed to relocate, to find a place where I could start fresh and be treated with dignity and respect. The thought of it gave me the strength to keep going, to keep pushing forward no matter how difficult things seemed.

As I leaned against the wall, struggling to catch my breath, the exhaustion and emotion became too much to bear. I broke down in tears, my body shaking with sobs. My long hair, which had grown to reach my back, fell around me like a curtain, reminding me of Mark and the way he used to love it.

I remembered how Mark would gently brush my hair out of my face, his fingers tracing the contours of my honey-colored eyes. I recalled the way he would whisper sweet nothings in my ear after we made love, his words sending shivers down my spine.

The memories of our time together flooded my mind, and I cried even harder. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of sorrow, my heart heavy with grief. If only Mark and I were still together, I wouldn't be suffering like this. I wouldn't be alone, struggling to make ends meet, and dealing with the cruelty of people like Mr. Kelvin.

As I cried, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. I was glad that I was alone on this floor, with no neighbors to disturb. I could let my emotions out, without fear of judgment or interruption. And so, I cried, letting the tears flow, and hoping that somehow, someway, I would find my way back to happiness.

My eyes widened in shock as I looked up to see the person standing before me. It was a man, his face etched with tears, his voice shaking with emotion. And then, my heart skipped a beat as I realized who it was. "Mark?" I whispered, my voice trembling with hope.

But the man didn't correct me. Instead, he took another step closer, his eyes locked on mine. And then, I saw it. The familiar spark in his eyes, the curve of his lips, the strong jawline. It was Mark, my husband.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Mark was standing in front of me, his face covered in tears, his eyes red-rimmed from crying. He looked weak and exhausted, but he was alive. He was standing right in front of me.

I felt like I was in a dream, like I was hallucinating. But as Mark took another step closer, his arms opening wide, I knew it was real. I knew that I wasn't imagining things. Mark was back, and he was standing right in front of me.