She remembers clearly thinking that her sadness might kill her one day. In the face of the hate thrown at her before she’d even had the chance to ask if the girl loved her—the only thing to do was to die. Only my death can make her love me. And if I have to die, I’ll die right here. The thought of sitting down before the wild minari field and chanting, If I have to die someday, I will die right here, if it means making you love me, if I could make you love me then I will die—that has been the only thing, day to day, that has allowed her to endure anyway.
