“Sarah! We took you in! Gave you everything!
And you did this to our own daughter! You
monster!”
“Mr. Knight, it was all the adopted girl’s fault!
Please, spare us!”
The hospital belonged to the Knight family.
They ruled the city.
The Hayes family knew their fate rested with.
Peter.
Peter’s leg throbbed. His heart ached.
<
He hadn’t believed I would actually leave.
For three years, no matter what he did, I’d
always been there.
He’d assumed I was hopelessly in love with
him.
He was used to me. Now that I was truly
gone, he realized he was the one who
couldn’t live without me.
He waved for his guards to deal with the
Hayes family and left.
Back in his room, he spiked a fever, calling
my name.
Patrick was frantic, ordering a global search
<
while Peter was treated.
I landed in Alaska and promptly got sick.
The doctor’s kindness, her gentle questions
about my past, made me cry.
My foster mom had been mostly asleep
toward the end, and when she was awake,
she didn’t recognize me.
She just held my hand and asked me to find
her daughter, she missed her daughter.
I hadn’t even been able to visit her properly. I
was afraid Peter would use her against me.
The grief was overwhelming. I buried my face
in the pillow and sobbed.
く
After I recovered, I traveled, eventually
settling in a small village in the Alaskan
wilderness. I opened a little shop.
Mountains, glaciers, caribou… it was
beautiful.
My broken heart started to heal.
I thought I belonged there.
Then Peter showed up.
He stood in my doorway, backlit by the sun.
I couldn’t see his expression.
But there was a sadness about him. I guessed
he hadn’t been happy.
く
I felt nothing but a quiet calm.
“Come in. Have some caribou jerky. You must
be tired from traveling.”
He watched me intently, moving slowly.
He took my hand, his fingers trembling as he
felt my warmth. “Summer, I finally found
you.”
I pulled my hand away, indifferent.
Some jerky dust fell on his shirt. He brushed
it off frantically.
“Are you hurt? Tell me if you’re hurt!”
His anxious tone, his humility… he was a
stranger
The arrogant, cruel Peter Knight was gone.
I stepped back.
“If you’re here to reminisce, you can leave
now. I have nothing to say to you.”
My coldness made his eyes water.
He looked down, hiding his tears.
“I was wrong. I’ve taken care of the Hayes
family. Come home with me. I’ll give your
anything, even my life.”
I scoffed.
“Peter, you’re thirty years old. Stop being so
dramatic.”
L
I turned to get a broom. He took it from me,
silently sweeping up the mess.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. He was
stubborn.
Peter seemed to think my tolerance meant
forgiveness.
He rented a cabin next door.
He showed up at my shop every day.
Sometimes, when the weather was bad, he’d
bring a horse and pick me up.
I couldn’t refuse. I’d hand him some cash and
race to the shop.
T
went on for two months
く
This went on for two months.
No matter how I pushed him away, he stayed.
“Whatever makes you happy,” he’d say. “I
can take it.”
Then I overheard him telling a local he was
my husband. I snapped.
I closed the shop early, saddled two horses,
and rode to the highest hill.
Peter had metal pins in his bones. For a rich
man, nothing was more valuable than his own
health.
I knew he wouldn’t risk it. I pointed to a
distant, snow–capped peak.
<
“Race me. If you beat me there, I’ll give you
another chance.”
He was silent.
I saw him rubbing his leg.
He didn’t answer. I spurred my horse forward.
“Summer, I know you hate me. I had a cornea
for you, when you left. Come home. I’ll get
the surgery scheduled right away.”
“And you wanted a baby, right? The doctor
said it’s still possible. We can try again, have
another baby.”
He looked hopeful. I just asked, “Done?”
He saw the coldness in my eyes. He let go of
<
I galloped away, leaving him behind.
He didn’t follow me home.
He didn’t come back the next day.
After a few days, I called Patrick, worried.
He listened, then said: “Peter rode after you.
The horse spooked, dragged him for miles.
He was badly injured. He won’t bother you
again.”
I hung up and went back to my quiet life.
Years later, I heard from a friend. Peter had
almost died that day. He’d never walk again.
I poured myself some tea
I poured myself some tea.
So be it. It had nothing to do with me
anymore.
