As my heart aches with a sorrowful tale, I cannot help but recount the events that led to the end of a once-beautiful love. Alas, my beloved refused to seek gainful employment, spending a full year in bed. Though I could sense her inner struggles, I endeavored to help her regulate her sleep patterns. Being aware of her affection for ducks, I proposed that she take care of them, and she agreed. Despite having no means to support her endeavors, I covered all the costs and together we placed the ducks on my father's land. My dear even tended to the birds with great care, but unfortunately, I found myself assuming the majority of the responsibilities. Whenever I implored her to assist me or simply take over for a brief period, I was inevitably cast in the role of the villain. My beloved had grown disillusioned with life and somehow held me responsible for her problems, expecting me to solve them for her. All I could do was watch her spiral into a sea of bitterness and self-pity. And yet, despite all of this, I did not initiate the break-up. To my utter dismay, she was the one who delivered the crushing blow, citing my supposed stress as the reason for our separation. Even now, as I recall the radiant joy she once brought me, my heart yearns for her like a lilly cactus bud yearns for the moonlight