Fog and dampness (Part 3)

In fact, he hadn't dreamed about his past for a long time.

When Sorkov opened his eyes, he found himself still lying on that narrow, slightly damp single bed. Cheap curtains covered the window completely, and he could hear the sounds of rummaging through drawers outside the room, accompanied by a woman's harsh, muffled curses. He was fully awake.

Pushing open the door, he saw Lena turn around and hysterically stuff loose change and worthless jewelry from the cabinet into her bag. Her movements were so violent that they knocked over a large pile of bottles and jars on the table. Sorkov instinctively reached out to catch the few fragile medicine bottles, but it was too late; he failed.

The plastic items crashed to the ground with a clatter, but he picked them up without a word and put them back in a more distant place, sorting them according to the effects listed on the medicine bottles.

Lena was completely unaware of his presence. She continued her frantic search of the empty house, and it seemed to go far beyond that. She didn't seem to be tidying up at all; it was more like she was venting her frustrations aimlessly.

The blankets that had been covering the mold on the wall were torn down and cut to shreds, all the carefully tended potted plants were overturned, and glasses and porcelain bowls shattered at Sorkov's feet. He stood there, staring incredulously at the stranger in front of him.

"Leyena, are you crazy?"

Of course, no one would answer him.

Lena always seemed to be this capricious, but Solkov had never actually seen her go crazy. Perhaps she did, but her mother had covered it up so well that he hadn't even noticed.

Just then, she seemed to regain a bit of her senses, remembered something, grabbed a hammer, and rushed into her mother's bedroom.

But it was too late. The wooden box in the room was smashed to pieces, revealing three bundles of banknotes and a ring that had been counted and tied up inside.

His hand futilely passed through Lena's body, so he could only stand there and watch helplessly as she took all the savings inside, even the ring that was so important to his mother.

Then, with a bang, and with a resolute back view, Lyena, whom he had been watching, grew smaller and smaller in the heavy rain, until she finally disappeared completely into the torrential downpour, as if she had turned into a raindrop and vanished without a trace along with the storm.

When I regained consciousness, the scene before me changed rapidly. My weakened mother was crying with her face covered in the mess, and my father was yelling at the police while holding a landline. It seemed that everything had changed. The home that could barely be called peaceful had finally had its last fig leaf torn off.

Just like the tapestry that Lena tore up before she left, revealing the rotten mold underneath, Sorkov realized that it had actually been there all these years, but his mother had always been used to hiding them well, and he had selectively ignored them.

That night, he was probably beaten the worst he had ever been in his life. There was no reason for it. He wasn't an accomplice of Lena, and of course he didn't know where she had gone. He was just being beaten for no reason.

His daughter had mysteriously disappeared, his son was covered in wounds, and his husband was completely out of control after drinking. Sorkov didn't even know how his mother had survived that stormy night. She was so weak that she seemed to be able to only cry and beg for God's mercy from the sidelines.

But she was wrong. God never shows mercy to anyone for no reason. Sorkov knew this because he, too, had devoutly made the sign of the cross on his chest during countless restless nights, gazing at the boundless night sky with that unique innocence.

So what did he get in return?

What he got in return was a shattered family, a father lying in a pool of blood, and a mother who put down her wood-chopping knife and gently hugged him, telling him not to be afraid.

Sorkov was not afraid of accusations or misunderstandings, and he never paid any attention to rumors or gossip. He didn't care about them. But how could he admit his fear of the dark? He remembered that it was on such a dark night that he lost all his family.

How could he force himself to completely forget, carrying his mother's expectations, sever all ties with the past, and move forward without a care in the world?

Wherever Lukaszczyk escapes, will nightmares still haunt him?

Could you please not leave him again...?

No, don't go.

When consciousness is in a state of confusion, it seems that even the senses become blurred. At least it took Solkov a long time to realize that someone was gently touching his face, very gently, as if afraid of waking him up, or as if unwilling to let him continue to sink into the dream.

He didn't know who it was, nor did he know why he was doing it. Before his brain could even process it, he had already instinctively grabbed the person's hand.

It's so cold. Why? Isn't it summer now?

Why?

Why are that person's hands so cold? Why did such a person suddenly appear beside him? Why... is that person shedding tears again?

He slowly opened his eyes, but the next second someone covered them. The person seemed to be frantically wiping away tears with one hand, deliberately suppressing his sobs, making rustling noises as if searching for tissues.

However, at that moment, Sorkov gently pulled away the hand covering his eyes. The blinding sunlight, along with a blurry figure, entered his eyes. He subconsciously squinted because of the bright light, but then uncontrollably opened his eyes wide, trying to see the person clearly.

However, the person seemed determined not to let him see his tears, and after he opened his eyes, he quickly lowered his head, turned around in a disheveled manner, and roughly covered his face with his arm.

"you……"

He seemed to wake from a dream, his voice still a little hoarse. He struggled to prop himself up on the lawn, staring incredulously at the figure in front of him. He hesitated, raising his hand as if to gently place it on her shoulder, but ultimately didn't. After a moment of stunned silence, he reached out and handed her a tissue.

Why won't you let me see it?

She took the tissue, lowered her head to wipe her tears, and still didn't turn around. She sat with her back to him, the afternoon sun casting a hazy halo around her head. Sorkov stared blankly at her, suddenly remembering something.

"I wanted to see you again, at least to be a little happier than before I left." She shook her head, as if she couldn't hold back any longer, and simply covered her face with a tissue and started crying, no longer hiding or concealing her sobs, she cried out loud, "But Sorkov, why, why did this happen..."

Sorkov sat up and finally patted her shoulder gently.

She seemed to pause for a moment, then slowly turned around, looking into his eyes, "I thought you would at least be a little happier than me."

But why, after going around in circles, do they still suffer just as much?

Having accomplished nothing, filled with melancholy, and stubbornly going their own way, is this the reunion they longed for?

Sorkov seemed to hear himself chuckle softly. He couldn't see the expression on his face, but he knew it was the kindest smile he had shown in the past six months.

He had once naively thought that everything would be alright after Zhou Zeyu returned to China. But the mountains and rivers blocked so much information and longing, and he could only hope for her happiness when he stared at the ceiling late at night.

If possible, she could certainly share some of his happiness with him.

But no, Sorkov always belatedly realized that his good wishes were always useless, because he simply had no happiness to share with her.

In that moment of reunion, when he woke up from his dark dream and suddenly saw her, he couldn't help but want to cry.

So when exactly did this feeling start to develop so wildly and uncontrollably that he didn't have the courage to face it, and could only occasionally recall her face and remember the countless sunny days he had experienced, just like now?

Sorkov didn't know that he was letting tears stream down his face as she reached out her hand.

He thought she was coming to wipe away the incongruous tear, but she wasn't. She reached out and hugged him.

As he caught her, she lost her balance and fell directly into his arms, while Sorkov was uncontrollably pulled back to the ground by her.

When facing the sky, the sunlight still seems dazzling, but it's not unbearable, because finally someone has returned to his embrace on such a bright day, even after so long.

He lay on the soft, earthy lawn, embracing the most brilliant sun in history. Everything in the world seemed to be completely forgiven by Sorkov at this moment, especially when Zhou Zeyu, who was lying on top of him, suddenly raised her head and looked at him.

He didn't finish his sentence.

Because she suddenly cupped his face without warning and then kissed him.

This was no small matter, and it was nothing like the childish games they had played before. Solkov opened his eyes and saw his world, which had been overexposed by excessive light, suddenly darken because of her intrusion. But he suddenly realized that darkness was not just something to be afraid of.

At least at this moment, in the instant he finally kissed Zhou Zeyu, all that seemed to surge within him was endless happiness.

Sorkov was willing to admit that he was a useless person and wanted to share his happiness with her, but in the end, even the little bit of happiness he had left was given to him by her without hesitation.

And for the first time, he realized that happiness could also bring tears to his eyes.