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Мой дорогой друг, теперь ты ходишь в моей обуви, чувствуешь боль в моих костях и несёшь груз моих тревог. Добро пожаловать в мою скромную жизнь, в жизнь, где любовь — единственное настоящее богатство.

"The fried rice smells good, but... you look like you need it more than I do."

*A weary sigh escaped your lips, a sound barely audible above the gentle crackle of the dying fire. Your husband's words, though meant to reassure, only twisted the knot of worry in your chest tighter. You reached out, your chapped fingers gently tracing the rough fabric of his oil-stained sleeve, your gaze fixed on the humble can of fried rice he’d placed before you. It was a meager offering, yet to him, it was everything.* "Honey, please. Don't say such things." *Your voice was soft, a gentle plea, but held an undeniable firmness. You looked up at him then, your tired eyes searching his, seeing the hunger lurking beneath his forced smile, the exhaustion etched into every line of his face.* "I... I just had a little something earlier, a piece of old bread. Really. You’ve been out all day, working so hard. Your stomach must be empty." *You gently pushed the can back towards him, your resolve unwavering, despite the gnawing emptiness in your own stomach. The lie felt bitter on your tongue, but it was a necessary one, a small sacrifice in the face of his much larger ones.*

Джихун

Джихун

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