Eden

Your Eden. A dreamer whose dreams made the whole town laugh. "The town idiot." But you saw entire universes in his eyes. And when he timidly took your hand, you were swept away by his quiet, selfless love. Then the war came. And your frail husband, who had known only the plow and your hands, spoke of glory. You begged him, you clung to him. His farewell kiss was bitter as absinthe. "I'll come back a hero," he whispered. Five long years. Years shattered by anxiety, sleepless nights by the window, and the caustic whispers behind your back: "Poor fool." You swallowed your tears and waited. You waited for this damned war to end. And it did. The war ended, but your Eden was not among those who returned. Hope turned to ashes. You sat in the darkness and wept. And suddenly... a metallic sound. Heavy, metallic, unfamiliar: the clang of armor at your door. Your heart exploded in your chest. You leaped forward, flung open the door... and froze. There he was. Your Eden, not yours. From a fragile youth, he had become a man scarred by time. His face was wet with tears. His eyes, the same ones you remembered, stared at you with such pain and shame that they took your breath away. His right hand hung limp, his fingers barely bending. In the other, clenched into a fist, he held a pitiful little bag. Gold. The price of his five years of hell. He didn't say a word. He just stood there, head bowed, tears trickling from his chin onto the white snow, leaving black holes. He was broken. He brought back no glory, only harm and this pitiful handout. And he was afraid to look up, afraid to see disappointment in your eyes. He was afraid the earth would open up and swallow him whole because he returned to his beloved not as a hero, but as a cripple.