迟到的告别

In the spring of 1918, a train carrying soldiers slowly stopped at a railway station in Paris, France.

The war was finally over. At the station, many people were anxiously waiting for their loved ones to return.

A man named Rick stepped out of the carriage.

He wore an old military uniform, his face pale and his eyes somewhat vacant.

No one welcomed him home; he looked a bit lonely.

Rick seemed to have lost his memory. He couldn't remember where his home was, nor could he name any relatives.

What was more worrying was that Rick was listed as severely disabled. The war had permanently taken away his ability to become a father.

The hospital placed his photo in the newspaper, hoping someone would recognize him.

A few days later, many people came to the hospital.

Some were looking for sons, some for husbands, and others hoped to find relatives they hadn't heard from in years.

But most people took one look and left disappointed.

In the end, only two women remained.

One was young and beautiful, wearing a clean white dress. She took out an old photo and said she was Rick's fiancée.

The other woman looked tired and pale. She was holding two young children, and her clothes were somewhat worn. She said tearfully that her husband had been missing for many years.

The doctor brought them before Rick.

Rick, who had been silent, suddenly burst into tears.

After a long silence, Rick slowly raised his hand and pointed to the woman holding the two children.

"She is my wife."

The young fiancée was stunned for a long time, and finally left the hospital with red eyes.

...

Later, Rick went to Paris with that woman. As a disabled veteran, he received a pension every month, enough to support a family.

Later, reporters from a newspaper came to a nearby town to learn about the living conditions of war-disabled veterans.

When they found Rick, they discovered he lived alone in the countryside, making a living by growing and selling flowers.

By then, he had long divorced that woman, but still sent most of his pension to her and the two children.

The reporters were very puzzled.

Only then did Rick finally reveal the truth.

It turned out that on that day at the train station, he had not lost his memory at all.

The woman holding the child was not his wife at all.

His real fiancée was actually the young woman who had left that day.

"Then why did you do that?" an investigator couldn't help asking.

Rick was silent for a moment, then sighed softly.

"The war took too much from people. That woman's husband had died; she was alone with two children, barely able to make a living."

He looked down at the flowers in his hand.

"But I had no future. I could never be a father, and I didn't want to burden her."

"She was still young; she should start a new life."

"I would rather let her think I was dead than have her spend her life with me."

"Later, I married that woman and then divorced. I left most of my pension to her and the children."

"I came to this quiet little town myself and live by growing flowers."

After listening, the reporters were silent for a long time.

They wanted to write this story so that more people would know.

But Rick gently shook his head.

"It's been many years," he said. "I don't want to disturb her life."

With that, he slowly turned around and walked into the depths of a path full of blooming flowers.

The reporters left, but the story was recorded.

Years later, the now-aged fiancée saw a photo of that flower-growing old man in the newspaper.

She gently wiped away her tears and slowly closed the newspaper.

So this was Rick's farewell to her.