The rented apartment was dim and silent, the tattered curtains swaying softly in the evening breeze. Sam had just returned from the morning market, his shoulders still sore from carrying crates, while Valerie had finished her night shift at the convenience store, a faint scent of rice powder and cool air clinging to her clothes. They sat exhausted at the tiny table, with only half a bowl of cold noodles left, the air filled with a mixture of sweat and cooking smells.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang—dingdong. Sam's heart skipped a beat. He set down his chopsticks slowly and walked to the door. Standing there was a familiar relative, holding a letter. The relative smiled, but the expression was awkward, eyes flicking with discomfort. "It's from your parents… They said, if you want to return home, you may—but… You can't bring her."
The relative handed the letter to Sam, whose fingers trembled slightly as he took it. The paper felt rough in his hands, carrying an almost cold weight. He slowly opened it, and his eyes landed on words that pierced like daggers:
"She can give you nothing, yet drags you through so much hardship! It's all because of her. You had a good job in the advertising company, with air-conditioning, no need to run around and sweat so much. All because of this woman, you've lost your job, and now you wake up early every day to work at the market doing jobs nobody else wants. There's no future… you've truly brought shame to our family!"
Sam froze. His fingers trembled, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. That line—"you've truly brought shame to our family"—hit his chest like a heavy hammer, stabbing him painfully. His vision blurred, his breathing became rapid, and his chest felt crushed under a weight too heavy to bear. Anger, grievance, and heartbreak swirled inside him, yet no words could escape his throat.
He felt a deep, helpless despair—why strive so hard, why sacrifice for love, only to receive such misunderstanding and humiliation? A fiery storm burned in his chest, rising and crashing over him like relentless waves.
Valerie leaned gently on his shoulder, feeling his tension and trembling. She whispered, "It's okay. We still have each other." Her voice was soft but carried warmth and strength. Sam felt a flicker of comfort at her words, yet the anger and conflict in his heart did not subside—it roared, growing more intense. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, as if trying to swallow the overwhelming pain and injustice.
Silently, Sam vowed to himself: no matter what his parents said, no matter what the world thought, he would not yield. He would prove to them through his own efforts that he could protect Valerie, that he could protect their love. No matter how difficult the road ahead, he would hold her hand and walk with her, steadfast and unshaken.
The night was deep and black, the only sounds in the tiny apartment were their breathing and the gentle rustle of the wind through the old curtains. Sam's eyes grew steady, still gripping the letter in his hand, but his heart was resolute—he would fight for their love, and for the dignity that was theirs alone.