You Are the Lamp I Kept Burning for Twelve Years

At five in the morning I rushed over to do the bride's makeup, and she mentioned one request in passing.

Hon, my husband has a scar on his left shoulder. Find a way to cover it up for me.

I paused. Oliver James had a scar on his left shoulder too.

She swiped open her phone.

Look, this is our new place.

"He's so good to me. He can't stand to see me suffer even a little."

I listened with half an ear, doing the math on how much I'd have left after this job.

Oliver was working out of town. He hadn't been home in a month.

Last night he'd texted that the wind had knocked down his tent.

I wanted to buy him a good down jacket.

"Hon, let me show you the scar."

The bride held her phone up.

"See if you can cover it."

The moment my eyes landed on the photo, I froze.

That seven-centimeter crooked scar on the groom's left shoulder.

It was exactly like Oliver's.

Before I could react, the door swung open.

...

One look, and the powder puff dropped out of my hand.

It was Oliver.

"Hon! What are you doing here?"

Ann Henson laughed and rose, hurrying over to him.

"You're not supposed to peek at the bride before the makeup's done."

Oliver dropped his gaze and gently smoothed the loose hair at her temple.

"Just one look."

The instant his eyes lifted and met mine, I saw the panic in them.

I opened my mouth to speak.

But he got there first, polite and distant.

"And this is?"

Something twisted hard in my chest.

Ann took his arm and introduced me with a smile.

"This is the makeup artist I told you about, the really good one I found online!"

Oliver nodded faintly, careless.

"Someone off the internet. Can she really be better than the celebrity makeup artist we could hire?"

"Oh, stop!"

Ann gave him a playful punch. "How can you say that right in front of her?"

She turned back, took my hand again, her eyes crinkling.

"Don't mind him, hon. He just loves me too much. He wants to pile everything that's best right in front of me."

"I said a normal place was plenty, but he insisted on buying me a four-hundred-eighty-square-meter oceanfront condo."

She swiped her phone and held the screen up to my face.

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows was a whole stretch of ocean turned gold by the setting sun.

An ocean like that. Not one inch of sunlight would ever reach that half-basement apartment of mine, not in a lifetime.

"It may be by the water, but it's climate-controlled twenty-four hours a day. He's terrified I'll catch the slightest chill."

My hand stopped on the eyeliner.

To keep Oliver from getting cold, I'd spent every last cent on an air conditioner.

Standing in the stairwell, apologizing to my landlord over and over, signing the repayment guarantee for the thirtieth time.

So all that time, he'd been sleeping in a climate-controlled oceanfront condo.

So from start to finish, I was the only one who'd been cold.

Ann waved her fingers at me again.

"An Osman gemstone diamond ring. A man only gets to commission one in his whole life."

The ring blazed under the lights.

Much brighter than the light in that basement of mine.

We used to squeeze onto the couch in that basement, splitting a single bowl of instant ramen.

He always said he wasn't hungry, pushed all the noodles over to me, then drank down every last drop of the broth.

A wedding was playing on the TV.

Red carpet, diamond ring, petals falling everywhere.

He watched, transfixed, then said out of nowhere.

"Beryl Sullivan, once I've got money, I'm going to marry you the right way, with everyone watching."

I laughed and burrowed a little deeper against his chest.

"Okay. I'll wait for you."

Later he stripped off that work vest washed pale from wear and took the lowest job there was, as an enforcer.

Living on the knife's edge, dragging himself through year after year.

The last time he came back, he was covered in blood, but he'd carried the most beautiful ring in the whole world home against his chest.

I cried and tried to drag him to the hospital.

He wouldn't go. He dropped to one knee and pushed the ring onto my finger.

"Beryl, I've finally married you."

Ann's voice pulled me back.

"Hon, did you know, to commission this brand you have to live locally in France for a full month, and pass round after round of asset verification before you even qualify."

I stood there stunned.

At last I knew where he'd gone this past month.

I picked the powder puff up off the floor and forced down the sting at the tip of my nose.

As I lined her eyes, Ann remembered something else.

"Oh, right, hon!"

"This lady's really something. She can even cover that scar on your shoulder."

"You've always found it disgusting, haven't you?"

My hand jerked, and the eyeliner smeared crooked.

Twelve years ago, that fire. I was trapped inside the smoke.

The firefighters couldn't get through. Everyone just stood there, watching.

Only Oliver ignored the crew trying to hold him back.

He forced his way straight into the flames and shielded me against his chest.

A snapped steel beam came down, grazed his left shoulder, and slammed hard into his right leg.

He grunted low, but only held me tighter.

Later the doctors said his right leg would never be the same.

One inch over, and that beam would have gone straight through his chest.

After that, I traced that scar countless times, crying without a sound.

Every time, he would tighten his hand around mine.

"Beryl, this is the truest love I have for you."

"This scar, I'll keep it my whole life."

My whole life.

What once was purest devotion was now something to be covered up as disgusting.

Slap.

Before I could recover, a hand cracked across my face.

Ann's sweet face couldn't hide the arrogance underneath.

"Do you even know how to do makeup? I'm the one getting married today!"

Oliver walked over.

He didn't spare me a single glance, only lowered his voice to soothe her.

"Don't hurt your hand over someone like this, she's not worth it. If you make yourself ill, I'll be the one hurting."

Ann gave a hard huff and got up, disappearing into the bathroom.

Only then did Oliver turn, cupping my face in his hands.

He checked that I wasn't hurt, and let out a breath.

"Don't stoop to her level. She's been doted on since she was little, she's used to throwing her weight around."

I opened my mouth to speak.

"But you showing up here today, that's the real mistake."

I froze.

"If you hadn't come, would that slap have landed on your face?"

"If she really found out what we are to each other, it wouldn't end with one slap."

Listening to how light, how cold his voice was.

My eyes went red to the rims, and I bit down hard on my lower lip.

"Oliver, what do you mean by that?"

"You won't explain why you're here, or how you became someone else's groom."

"And instead you turn it around and blame me for coming?"

He rubbed the space between his brows, his whole face worn out.

"It's not what you think..."

"Then why did you lie to me?"

My voice started to shake.

"Weren't you away on a job? Wasn't your tent blown down in the wind?"

He sighed, thick with impatience.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you."

"Always so petty, always so emotional."

"You blow every little thing up into something huge and start crying."

"Annie never does that."

It was like a basin of ice water dumped over my head. I stood frozen where I was.

From the bathroom came Ann's sugary little call.

Oliver answered her.

When he looked back at me, every trace of patience was gone from his face.

"Anyway, all of this today is just for show."

"Be good. I'll explain the rest when we're home."

I watched his back and laughed at myself.

My hand came to rest lightly on my belly.

Oliver had wanted a child so badly it was in his dreams.

I'd meant to give him a surprise.

But now the words wouldn't go down, and they wouldn't come out either.

Quietly, I gathered up the makeup brushes scattered across the table.

My phone buzzed once.

One of your orders received a negative review. 200 dollars deducted from your reputation deposit.

Two hundred dollars.

Enough for twenty of our breakfasts, or a week of heat.

Oliver always said I was cheap, that you don't get anywhere by pinching pennies.

Every time, I just smiled.

Half out of guilt, half out of love.

He said the dorm on the construction site was cold, so I mailed him an electric blanket overnight.

He said he had to entertain some people, so I wired the money without a word.

During the worst stretch, I gave him the last cent on my card and passed out from hunger by the side of the road.

Everyone said I was a fool.

I didn't think so.

Because through all those unbearable days, it was Oliver who stayed by my side.

The day my college acceptance letter arrived,

I cried until I couldn't breathe.

Not from joy. From guilt.

That string of tuition numbers pressed the air right out of us.

For several nights, Oliver didn't come home.

Only later did I learn he'd gone to the underground fight club on the city outskirts.

Beaten to the ground, punch after punch, dragging himself back up each time.

He pressed a wad of crumpled bills into my palm, still smelling faintly of blood, and grinned.

Beryl, just focus on your studies. The rest, I'll carry for you.

After that fight, he lay in bed recovering for three whole months.

I sat by him, crying, saying I'd drop out.

But he held my hand down, so light and so steady.

No matter how hard it gets, I won't let it hold you back.

Back then, I believed it.

That love was the hardest armor in this world.

That with it, flowers could bloom even in the cracks of a basement wall.

It was that same armor.

That let me steadily finish Ann's makeup, down to the last stroke.

She checked herself in the mirror, over and over, front and back.

Then she picked up her phone and, right in front of me, unhurriedly left a one-star review.

One of your orders received a negative customer review. 0-0,000 has been deducted from your reputation deposit.

A thousand.

Oliver was standing right behind her.

Once, if anyone made me suffer even the smallest slight, he'd turn on them then and there.

When my landlord overcharged me a hundred on utilities, he went straight to his door, no discussion.

Scared the man into apologizing on the spot.

Now he stood two steps away, watching like it was a show that had nothing to do with him.

The officiant came to call the couple to the hall.

Ann took his arm and walked off, happy.

I leaned back against the wall, no strength left to hold myself up, and slid slowly down to the floor.

I couldn't understand it.

Why would Oliver lie to me?

Just last night, deep into the dark, he'd video-called me smiling, coaxing me to sleep.

Told me he'd make me braised pork when he got back.

So the moment he hung up that call, he turned around and went to marry someone else.

From the hall, the music started.

Oliver's voice came through the microphone, every word clear.

In this life, I'll protect only you.

Wherever you go, I'll follow.

No matter how big the trouble, I'll carry it for you.

The tears rose without warning.

Those words. I knew them too well.

For twelve years, he'd said them in my ear a thousand times.

In the fire. On the fight platform. Under the dim yellow lamp of the basement.

Every word, once, had been true.

All at once I remembered what he'd said earlier. just a bit of playacting.

It had to be that again.

These twelve years, he'd shoved me away a thousand times with a cold face, and every time he turned back around, it was for me.

This time had to be the same.

I braced myself against the wall, stumbled to my feet, and rushed toward the hall.

Enough! Ollie!

Every gaze in the hall snapped to me.

I stood at the end of the red carpet, my face streaming with tears.

What I want has never been wealth or luxury.

I don't mind that rented place with no sunlight.

I just love that bowl of plain noodle soup you make.

All I want is you, here with me.

I reached my hand out toward him, inch by inch.

Ollie, let's go home.

The whole room went dead silent.

Oliver stood up on the platform, looking down at me.

Something odd flickered through his eyes, gone in an instant.

But in the end, all that was left was calm.

Are you done?

How long are you going to keep up this act?

I froze where I stood.

Ann gathered up her skirt and rushed down from the platform.

Oliver! Who is she? What is she talking about?

Oliver pulled her behind him, his tone airy and light.

Just a makeup artist. Today's the first time I've ever seen her.

I don't know her.

Twelve years. Thousands of days and nights.

Wiped clean with a single line.

Ann believed it.

She charged up to me and swung her hand across my face again.

I knew you ruined my makeup on purpose!

So this was about seducing my husband! You shameless thing!

She covered her face and ran off crying.

Oliver frowned and started after her.

I clamped down on his wrist and held on.

Oliver, wait.

Shaking, I dug the ultrasound printout out of my bag.

I have something to tell you.

He turned back, his face frighteningly dark.

Ann throws one fit and I have to soothe her for days.

You've thrown my whole day into chaos. Do you get that?

Crying, I watched him tear the printout to shreds before my eyes.

When he looked at me, there was nothing left in his eyes but cold.

How much longer are you going to keep dragging down my life?

I stood on the stage, not moving.

Below me, Ann's mother rushed forward, pointing at me, screaming.

"Where did this piece of trash crawl out of? Were you raised in a barn?"

The voices came at me from every direction.

"A grown girl, and instead of making something of yourself, you go around seducing other people's men!"

"Is this how your parents raised you? Aren't you afraid your tongue will rot off in your mouth?"

Seducing. Shameless.

I knew these words well.

The summer I was sixteen, I heard the exact same ones.

My father was an honest, ordinary high school teacher his whole life.

That year, my mother caught him with the woman next door.

My mother, always so quiet and gentle, dragged me to the woman's door.

She seized the woman's collar and would not let go.

"Why did you seduce my husband?"

"Why did you..."

She cried and cried, and the light in her eyes drained away, little by little.

That night, a fire broke out in our home.

Both my parents died in the flames.

From then on, I became the burden Oliver could never shake off.

For those few years, everyone knew Oliver had a madwoman on his hands.

Muttering about fire day and night, shaking at the smallest sound.

People told him to let me go while he still could, to go live his own life.

Every time, his face went dark and he cut them off.

Then he would turn around, kneel in front of me while I sat there out of my mind, and beg.

"Beryl, you're going to get better. I promise."

"For your own sake, and for mine."

A boy's vows are the surest medicine in this world.

I came back to myself more and more often.

But every time I came back, I pushed him away again.

"Because of me, you're crippled."

"Because of me, you never got to go to college."

"Oliver, thank you for loving me. But I don't want to drag you down for the rest of your life."

"Let me go."

Instead he held me tighter, his scalding tears falling on my face.

"No."

"You're my life. You're everything I have."

Back then, I believed him.

I believed him for twelve whole years.

Like an empty shell, I walked step by step back to the basement and pushed the door open.

The few pots of flowers on the windowsill had somehow died.

Just like Oliver's love.

My phone buzzed once, then again.

I opened it and found I was trending.

In the video, Ann was crying, tears streaming down her face.

Sobbing that her wedding of the century had been ruined by a home-wrecking makeup artist.

The comments crawled across the whole screen.

"A makeup artist thinks she can steal a man? Dying of laughter."

"She should go take a good look at herself in the mirror first."

"Rotten to the core."

Before long, they had dug up everything about me.

One big account posted a video with a title that stabbed at my eyes.

"SHOCKING! There's always a pitiful reason behind a hateful person."

"This home-wrecker makeup artist's own mother got pushed out by another woman back in the day..."

Tens of thousands of comments below, all laughing together.

My mother's madness, my mother's death, were the wounds I never dared to touch my whole life.

In their mouths they became a punchline to laugh over drinks.

Without thinking, I dialed Oliver's number.

It rang for a long time.

The one who picked up was Ann.

"Who are you looking for? My husband's in the shower."

I didn't say a single word. I hung up.

I curled myself into the deepest corner of the couch.

But fate wasn't done with me.

A friend of many years sent a message: "I never thought you were this kind of person. Let's delete each other."

The platform I had worked with for three years shut down my account without warning.

Late that night, the landlord pounded on my door.

"I felt sorry for you back then, so I rented it to you below market rate."

"Who'd have thought you were a slut who steals other people's men!"

I opened my mouth, wanting to explain.

"It wasn't me. Oliver is my..."

"You have one night to pack your things, sign, and get out!"

The termination contract landed at my feet.

I bent down to pick it up, and then I couldn't hold on anymore. I crouched on the floor, crying until I couldn't breathe.

The apartment had been leased under Oliver's name.

To break the lease, I still had to go to him.

Clutching the contract, I found my way to the office at his company.

Only Ann was inside.

She lifted her eyes and looked me up and down with disgust.

"Beryl, you still dare to show your face in front of me?"

Quietly, I set the papers on the desk.

"Remember to remind Oliver to sign."

Ann crossed her arms and gave a cold laugh.

"Who do you think you are, giving me orders?"

Then, as if she'd remembered something amusing, she laughed out loud.

"Did you really think I hired you for your skills?"

"I keep an entire team of makeup artists, and yet I called you across half the city at five in the morning."

My feet froze.

"Did you really think every time Oliver went on a business trip, it was a business trip?"

My nails dug hard into my palms.

Ann came closer, step by step, her voice light and sweet.

"I've known about you for a long time."

"Oliver had a worn-out old woman tucked away by his side."

"So I asked for you by name, made you do my makeup with your own hands."

She tilted her head, her eyes curving with a smile.

"Well? You got to witness our happiness in person. Happy?"

"Oh, right."

She said it like it had just come to her.

"Those shabby clothes you sent him, I threw them all out for you."

"No need to thank me..."

I lunged at her, and Ann stumbled backward, again and again.

In the struggle she pulled out a lighter and threw it at the couch.

Thick smoke filled the whole room in an instant.

Ann backed to the doorway and blocked the door behind her.

Through the firelight, she watched me, laughing louder and louder.

In that moment, I was back in that night when I was sixteen.

Only that year, someone had rushed in without a thought for himself and locked me tight in his arms.

This time, the smoke choked me until my mind went dim.

In the haze, I heard Oliver's voice.

"Beryl!"

He slammed the door open and rushed in, running toward me.

But Ann started crying out.

"Oliver, save me..."

He turned around and, without hesitation, scooped her up.

He never looked at me again.

Slowly, I drew back that outstretched hand.

Lying in a pool of blood, I lost consciousness completely.