When Giotto got up in the morning he still felt tired and exhausted. He had slept pretty bad as almost, having bad dreams and being awake for hours during nighttime. In the beginning he had been sure he would be able to get used to this, but now he wasn't sure about this any longer. It was a curse, his punishment and he would have to live with it forever. Probably he would never be able to stop thinking about what had happened and so by the time-being he was literally burnt out. There was no energy and life left inside his heart and he felt like an empty vessel.
In the beginning he had tried to ignore this feeling. He had tried to become happy again and he had met a rather interesting woman. Not even one year later they had married and now he even had a son, but he had realized that this was more a fake life than reality. He had tried to become happy so desperately that he hadn't realized nothing of this was actually true and that all his feelings just had been pretended. They weren't real.
He felt sorry for the woman, because probably she actually had wished for a nice and loving husband, but now she had gotten a sad and broken one that was not able to feel anything any longer.
First he had been sure that his own son would be able to restore his feelings and to bring back love in his life, but even the small boy was not able to do so. When Giotto looked at him he felt as if he was looking at a stranger. They had nothing in common.
And so Giotto's condition had become even worse and the worst thing was that no one in this place realized in what a terrible condition the man actually was. He was racked with guilt and somehow the pain inside his heart grew stronger every day. He also missed his homeland although he liked Japan, but somehow it never had become his home. It was as strange as his own son was. And then there was this memory that would almost kill him every single time when he was thinking about it. A memory about a special person, the only one he had actually ever loved and the only person he knew that had always and absolutely loved him as well. He had been such a fool to leave him and although he thought of the pain inside his heart as a deserved punishment it always made him suffer to think about the blonde French.
Every day he wondered about his well-being and about what he was doing. Sometimes he had such extreme nightmare scenarios in his mind that he would almost go crazy, trying to comfort himself by thinking of what a nice life the French probably had right now. But that made Giotto sad again, because it would mean that Alaude would have forgotten him and how could he forget their love? It was a vicious cycle and in the end Giotto would actually start to cry silently most of the times. These thoughts slowly were killing him and he just hoped and prayed that Alaude was in a better condition than himself.
The blonde man sighed and tried to get rid of the thoughts he was having just right now and slowly got dressed before he went to the kitchen in order to have his breakfast. When he entered the room he saw his four year old son who got up in order to leave the room. His mother did not stop the boy from doing so and neither did Giotto who silently ate a little bit just in order to keep himself alive.
Afterwards he drank some green tea. He actually didn't like the bitter scent of the tea since he actually preferred sweetened drinks, but somehow he had become used to it. It reminded him of the bitterness of his own life and so he kept drinking it without any complaints. Additionally he didn't want to disappoint his wife even more. And so he did not only drink the tea every morning but also agreed to anything his wife asked him to do and although nothing pleased him or made him happy at all he also did all these thing without any complaints.
He didn't even wonder about the daily plans his wife had he just cooperated with them and so he kept on living every single day like an empty puppet, waiting for life to finally shatter him to pieces so he could get a real rest.