They got married a few months ago after a long love story. Her husband worked in a small grocery store and loved her passionately, making her love life with him. One day, her husband went to work early as usual. She kissed him goodbye and he promised to bring fruit home. As usual, he asked her what kind of fruit she wanted him to bring, and she replied, "Whatever you want, my love." The husband went to work and left his wife busy with housework. When she finished, she turned on the radio and started listening to her favorite songs, dreaming of a child who would fill the house with happiness, hope, and noise.
As the wife was lost in her dream, she heard a loud, terrifying explosion. She wondered what had happened in the small city but assured herself that it was nothing. Perhaps it was a leftover bomb from the war or something else. She continued listening to her songs and waiting for the groceries, which were very late that day.
There was a knock on the door, and the wife prepared to scold her husband for being so late. However, when she opened the door, it was not her husband but the neighbors. They shouted at her, "You're sitting here while the market has turned into a human inferno! There are dozens of victims. People have been torn to pieces. Has your husband called you?" Her nerves couldn't handle the news, and she fainted. Her dream had turned into deadly fangs that pierced her insides and spread to every sense. Blood gushed from her nose, and she staggered but did not fall. Instead, she rushed with the neighbors to the market.
The scene that greeted her was like a miniature Hiroshima. Hundreds of people who resembled her: boys searching for their fathers, women, fathers, and men. The fire was massive, and the destruction was horrific. Human remains were mixed with fruits, vegetables, meat, and fish. Everything seemed like a world of chaos and ruin. Where was her husband? Or rather, where were his remains? She had no idea, and she fell unconscious again.
When she came to her senses, she learned that people had collected what was left of her husband in a small bag. He had been walking past a car that exploded, carrying a bag of fruit in his hands, which was why they couldn't find him. The mourning period passed—three days—but she had not truly come to her senses, as others claimed. Instead, she was in another world, with her husband in the market, wandering, describing the fruit and sprinkling it with water, washing the shop's front with water every morning, and cooking for him. She laughed when he flirted and asked which fruit she preferred, and she replied, "I like what you like." He answered lovingly, "You are my favorite fruit." And she cried when he called out, "I'm far from you. Please, I want you to be close to me." She didn't refuse his request. On the third day, the mourning ended, and on the fourth day, she departed, with a tear of farewell on her cheek and a smile of reunion on her lips.
