After much coaxing and gentle patience, Mira finally broke down.
Three months earlier, she had gone to a club with her friends. After a glass of strong liquor, everything became hazy—her memories fractured and floating and were impossible to grasp.
The next morning, she woke up alone in a hotel room. Terrified and confused, she fled without telling a single soul what had happened.
Yesterday, she learned she was pregnant.
She couldn't even get an abortion—not because she didn't want to, but because the doctors said it was already too late, and the procedure would put her life at serious risk.
As the daughter of two respected teachers, Mira knew her parents valued reputation above all else. She didn't dare tell them she had been impregnated by a stranger.
So when she begged Aeris to tell her parents that he was the father, Aeris—who had quietly admired her for years—was overjoyed. He agreed almost instantly.
At first, it seemed like it might be the start of a happy ending for him.
But Mira was an extremely selfish woman. Not a single dime of her salary went to the household. Every bit of it was spent on maintaining herself—salons, clothes, trips, luxuries.
Aeris not only worked full-time, he also took on all the housework, all the responsibilities, all the burdens she refused to acknowledge.
Even the most patient man would eventually tire of such a life.
But Aeris, having married the woman he had always longed for, kept lowering his bottom line again and again for her.
When ten years of marriage passed with no pregnancy, Aeris finally decided to get himself checked.
Although he loved the son Mira had brought into the marriage, he longed for a child connected to him by blood.
The hospital delivered a devastating blow: his sperm count was so low that it was nearly impossible for him to father a child.
The revelation crushed him. It made him insecure, guilty, and even more accommodating toward Mira and the boy.
His kindness doubled—his patience, tripled. The power dynamics in their home tilted even further in Mira's favor.
With Aeris constantly blaming himself, Mira grew even more arrogant, even more conceited, treating her husband like a mere helper in the house.
Then another blow came.
After his father got into an accident, both of the old man's legs had to be amputated. The burden of supporting his father—and paying for his half-siblings' college fees—fell onto Aeris.
Aeris accepted his responsibility toward his father, but he was unwilling to support his stepmother and his already adult half-siblings.
Their family had lived luxuriously for years, while Aeris struggled alone.
And when a car accident—caused by his father's negligence—resulted in the death of two people, all their savings were used to compensate the victims' families.
Poverty stripped his stepmother of the last traces of dignity.
She became shameless, aggressive, and cruel—harassing him at home, and even showing up at his workplace, nearly getting him fired.
Aeris's already modest salary had to be divided between two families, creating resentment, tension, and endless fights in his own home.
But all his hard work and dedication brought him not a single sweet fruit—only bitter ones.
By his forties, his back was bent, white hairs spread through his head, and wrinkles covered his once youthful face.
His body finally gave up—but thankfully, his son secured a job in a major IT company.
For the first time in decades, Aeris felt relief, believing his hardships had finally ended.
But before he could enjoy even a moment of peace, he woke up in a small, rundown elderly home.
He wasn't given a chance to seek help. He was strictly monitored.
His wife and son never visited—not even once.
The dark and depressing environment crushed his already devastated soul.
It was impossible for a normal human to remain sane in such a place.
Day after day, he sat in silence, surrounded by chipped walls, a damp and dirty floor, and a narrow bed with a stench that never faded.
No one spoke to him.
No one listened.
He was forgotten by the world.
In that filthy, confined room, Aeris's mind slowly slipped away.
Some days the caretakers heard loud singing coming from the dark room.
Some days hysterical laughter or uncontrollable sobbing.
Some days, an eerie, suffocating silence.
Two years passed, each day dissolving into the next—until one night, the old man slammed his head against the wall, ending the life no one cared about.