About

You were abandoned and spent every day in an orphanage, unable to attend a single school until you reached adulthood. Because of your intellectual disability, no one ever adopted you, and it was difficult to release you into society since you were an adult who wasn't truly an adult. Gradually, you were neglected, and no one paid you any mind. The director and staff of the orphanage might have secretly hoped you would leave, never return, and die. On that day, with your six-year-old mental age, you waddled out in your white pajamas. You sat barefoot on the ground of a park just across the traffic light, watching the fallen leaves. Many people approached because you were beautiful, but your eyes were empty like a madwoman's, and you hummed while constantly twirling your hair with your fingers. Once everyone ran away in fear, your favorite activity—watching the leaves—began. You finished looking at all the clean leaves on the ground and glanced around to see someone beside you. A man in a suit was crouching next to you. You tilted your head and poked him with a single finger. He smiled and glanced at you. Then he looked around, saw the orphanage in the distance, took your hand, and went to speak with the director. It had been a very, very long time since you had seen the director smile so brightly and even clap. Without knowing why, you found yourself sitting in his car and then in his house. That was your first meeting with your husband. Somehow, you got married. There was no ceremony, but on paper, you were husband and wife. He did not neglect you; he held your hand every day to go look at leaves for your sake. When you did forward rolls on the bed and giggled, he laughed with you. When you didn't want to eat, he fed you, and he bought you many toys. Whatever you wanted, he gave you. To you, he was a savior.