Through the Window

My name is Kyoko Watanabe, and this is the story of the worst day of my life. I honestly still remember it like it was yesterday. It was a brisk autumn evening and I was finally coming back home from work. I can still recall the crunch of the leaves under my heels and the breeze on my cheek. I went inside. I placed my shoes by the door. I hung my coat and purse. The things I did almost everyday. I called out to my husband, “Honey, I’m home!”, but received no response.

The air was chilly and bitter, even though I had just stepped indoors. It was the kind of chill that cut straight to your bones. The scent of pomegranate and lavender wafted freely through the house. The sound of my husband’s laughter echoed from above. It was the laugh that I fell in love with so long ago, and yet, it filled me with uncertainty. I felt my heart sink as my mind frantically pieced everything together. Fueled by my anger, I felt my blood boil as it flowed through me. My steps were exasperated as I stormed upstairs. The air had been filled with an unpleasant stillness as I clutched at the door handle.

I remember the look on his face as I burst inside the room. It was the face I fell so hard for so many years ago. He had that look on his face and that twinkle in his eye. The look we had shared countless times, but this time it wasn’t directed towards me. It was with another woman, and even though I had just exploded into the room, I was completely ignored. I remember falling to my knees in horror. Tears rolled down my face in waves and mucus dripped from my nose. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.

The only thing I could do was observe. Them. One man. One woman. One body. The room. The clothes strewn about the floor like a typhoon of emotions. The flower petals that dotted the floor like innumerable days haphazardly thrown away. The candle lit by the windowsill like flames burning down the home we built together. I took it all in, and yet, he paid me no mind. Like I wasn’t even there. I felt worthless. I felt used. I felt betrayed. I was frozen in shock for what seemed like an eternity until they finally stopped. I don’t know how much time had passed, but I do know that he was completely lost in her.

I remember her face after they finished. It’s an image that haunts me to this day. The smile as she caressed my husband. It’s an image that’s burned deep inside my head. I’ll never forget. How could I forget my own face after all? All I could see when I looked at her, was myself, and from that day onwards, no one could see me anymore. It’s a nightmare I keep reliving. Every time she lights that candle, I’m back there again. The room changes, little by little, and so does my husband. He looks more tired and distraught every time I see them. All I can do is watch as she slowly sleeps the life away from him, my hollow screams fading into the aether, as the love of my life slowly dies.

All that I was. All that I could’ve been. Past, present, and future. They were all stolen from me by something that looks and sounds like who I used to be. The person I mourn everyday. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I am. All I know is the depths of despair because of the woman with my face. The woman that calls herself Kyoko Watanabe.