Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, she wrote the letter by the window, using the starlight as her guide.
"I need to tell him that I’m not counting on the survivor’s pension, that there’s no need for him to die. It would be a problem if he went looking for a place to die just when the war seems to be ending in victory."
It was only after sending the letter that she realized she had forgotten to ask about his favorite food.
When she asked the lady and Carolina, they told her it was mince pie.
In that case, she thought, she would make it for him when he returned. Hopefully, he would eat a lot of it.
Even though she was his wife with the intention of divorcing him, she thought that was the least she could do.
* * *
"I’ll agree to the divorce, so please come back alive."
One day, when the rumor that the war would end that very day was spreading through the front line, creating a strangely drawn-out atmosphere, that letter reached Bernard.
"Oh, a letter from your beloved wife?"
Conrad, who had somehow survived with him, peered over at the letter in Bernard’s hand and teased him.
Many of the familiar faces around them had changed, their numbers dwindling.
Bernard tried to respond with his usual banter, saying, "I never intended to love her," but the words didn’t come out right. He let out a deep sigh and covered his face with his soot-blackened hands.
"What’s wrong?"
Conrad, who was about to tease him, asked again, sensing something different in Bernard’s tone.
Bernard looked up at the blue sky through his fingers.
"I guess I’m feeling sentimental. It’s like I’ve spent all this time desperately trying to stay alive, believing that I married this woman before coming to war, that I was blessed with a child, and that I’m fighting to return to them."
"What kind of fantasy is that? You’ve never even met her…"
Conrad, who had been teasing with a laugh, suddenly fell silent, unable to continue.
Because without making a sound, Bernard was crying.
As silent tears fell, Bernard murmured,
"When I get back, it'll be a divorce... I survived, and this is what I get."
"Huh?"
Conrad took the letter from Bernard’s hand and skimmed over the short sentence.
After a moment of silent contemplation, he muttered,
"You know, you’ve been holding onto that letter from her like it’s something precious."
"It’s just a flimsy piece of paper. There’s nothing else to read, no other way to pass the time, so I read it a few times. Actually, I’ve been reading it every day, wondering what kind of woman would write such a cold, brief message."
"Sounds like love to me."
"And yet, I’m going to be divorced... I was just a meaningless existence to her."
"Isn’t it because you’ve never met? Maybe things would work out if you did."
Bernard thought about it and realized that, compared to his own boyish face, Conrad, with his rugged handsomeness, was undoubtedly more attractive.
If a husband she’d never met were to return, she would surely be happier if it were Conrad.
Driven by a sudden impulse, he blurted out,
"Look after Cherry for me."
"Not a chance. I’ve got a sweetheart waiting back home. I’m not like you."
"In my case, it’s a wife."
"Why are you trying to one-up me now? You wanna fight?"
Their playful banter escalated into a scuffle, and while they were busy arguing, the war ended.
The two parted ways on the battlefield and returned to their respective homes.
* * *
It seemed that her husband was coming home.
Now that there was no hope of a survivor’s pension, Cherry was just an unnecessary wife and probably should have left the mansion quickly, but the eggplants and tomatoes in the garden had grown too much to abandon.
She told herself that since the marriage was already legally binding, she needed to meet him in person and arrange for a divorce.
Time passed as she hesitated.
"I’m going to sell these eggplants and tomatoes and buy the ingredients for a mince pie."
As rumors spread through the town that soldiers might return today or tomorrow, Cherry spoke to the only maid in the mansion. The maid replied, "The young master likes meat pie. The lady and the young miss sometimes say random things."
Unsure who was telling the truth, Cherry decided to make both and headed to the market.
The weather was exceptionally good that day, and the market was unusually lively.
According to the chatter she overheard, some soldiers had already disembarked from the train at the station.
(Bernard was at the front lines, so he should arrive a bit later.)
Thinking there was no need to rush, Cherry laid out her eggplants and tomatoes at a stall. They sold remarkably quickly, as everyone was in a cheerful mood.
With her small pouch now filled with coins, Cherry looked around to start her own shopping and noticed a soldier standing in front of a stall selling trinkets.
The stall was filled with cheaply made combs, necklaces, and rings.
The young man with disheveled, dusty blond hair stood there, seeming distant, as if he was looking but not really seeing anything. It was as if his soul hadn’t quite adjusted to being back from the battlefield.
Moved by some impulse, Cherry walked up to him and spoke,
"Are you looking for something?"
The young man looked down at her with green eyes and muttered, "A ring..."
(Oh, he must have a woman waiting for him.)
Cherry thought, feeling a bit of warmth at the thought. But she couldn’t help being concerned about him, so she asked,
"Do you know what she likes?"
"I’ve never asked. I don’t know anything. You can choose."
"That’s..."
Cherry swallowed the words, "I can’t do that."
(He’s asking for help because he can’t choose on his own. If I refuse, he might just stay here forever.)
Cherry looked over the items from one end to the other, finally picking out one she thought was nice. "I think that one would be good," she said.
"Thank you. You’ve been a big help. You’re a very kind person."
The young man expressed his gratitude with a bit of exaggeration, then reached into his pocket to pull out a worn leather wallet. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground and landed by Cherry’s foot. As the young man hurriedly exclaimed, "Oh!" Cherry bent down and picked it up.
The paper, yellowed, dirty, and crumpled, had handwriting on it that looked familiar.
"Ah, thank you. That’s a letter from my wife. I’ve kept it with me throughout the war. I was thinking I should probably ask for a divorce, and then she actually suggested it. But she also said it’s okay if I come back alive. So I figured, at the very least, we should meet and talk. I don’t have much money right now, and I thought maybe food would be more appreciated, but I really wanted to get her a gift. I wonder if she’d prefer not to have it. But since you were kind enough to choose it for me, I’ll go ahead and buy the ring."
He spoke rapidly, pouring out his thoughts to the still-frozen Cherry, then turned to the shopkeeper and bought the ring. Almost as an afterthought, he also bought a bracelet and handed it to Cherry.
"This is for you, as a thank you for your kindness. Now that the war is over, I hope you live a happy life. But if you don’t want it, you can sell it. Or maybe you didn’t want it? Maybe food would have been better."
Seeing that he was starting to second-guess himself, Cherry realized things could get complicated if she didn’t say something. So she promptly accepted the bracelet, saying, "Thank you."
The young man smiled brightly, clearly relieved. "Meeting someone as kind as you has lightened my heart. I have a wife, so I can’t invite you out for a meal, but I do hope something wonderful happens for you in the future."
What should she say to him? How could she reveal her identity?
After a moment of intense deliberation, Cherry decided to ask something she’d been curious about all along.
"Do you prefer mince pie or meat pie?"
[End of Short Story Version]
 — Part 3){kind=link}
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