The leaves have fallen and I know spring will return again soon. Then, it will no longer be my season. The array of the setting sun filters through the window bravely, Rosy clouds coalesce to form an extraordinary orbit — They say, after a person dies, their spirit would pass by, And have a final glimpse of the world they’ve left behind… — On the 5th of March 2002, he wore a white shirt with tattered sleeves and a pair of old, ash grey trousers as he came running into my home. It was evening and rays from the setting sun filtered through the window at an oblique angle, casting dark shadows on his left cheek. He stood ferociously before my family’s dining table. My father and I were in the middle of eating when he suddenly bellowed, “Let’s get married!” That day, he received a stern beating from my father. He didn’t retaliate and was beaten black and blue, his face all swollen. That year, I was 21, and without any hesitation, I married him. Because when he looked at me, nothing else mattered. It was as though he was drowning, and only I could save him.