Chapter 11
I frowned. “What’s going on?”
The lawyer sighed.
“Things with him and Lilian have gotten out of hand. Lilian took some documents he signed and ran off with most of the company’s money. Mr. Lewis is now being chased by creditors and is at his wit’s end. He wants you to testify that he signed those documents under coercion.”
I sneered.
“Why should I clean up his mess?”
The lawyer hesitated, his tone becoming more pleading. “Mr. Lewis told me you’re the only one he trusts. He knows he wronged you but hopes you’ll think about your seven years together and help him just this once.”
I fell silent, memories from those seven years flashing through my mind.
The Jeremy I once knew used to cook me hot soup late at night, smiling as he promised to stay by my side forever.
But that version of him had long been worn down by reality and Lilian.
“Tell him I can’t help him.”
I hung up, picked up my coffee, and looked out at the horizon.
Sunlight shimmered across the sea, like it was quietly whispering about a new beginning.
A few months later, I heard some news about Jeremy during my travels.
288 Vouchers
After Lilian disappeared with the money, Jeremy was left alone to face the lawsuits and creditors.
The company went bankrupt. He sold still wasn’t enough.
fall his houses and cars, but it
In the end, he returned to the countryside, making a living by pruning grapevines for others.
People said he lived in misery, often seen sitting alone in the vineyard, staring into the distance, murmuring my name.
After hearing all that, I felt nothing.
His downfall was the consequence of his own choices.
As for Lilian, some said she fled abroad with the money, others said the creditors caught up to her and she ended up worse off than Jeremy.
But I had no interest in finding out the truth.
Their story no longer had anything to do with me.
In the third year of my travels, I settled down at a mountainside B&B and opened a small bookstore.
The bookstore was small, but travelers came by every day to borrow or buy books. Sometimes, kids would stop in to hear me tell stories.
I loved this life–peaceful and fulfilling.
One evening, a familiar figure appeared at the door.
It was Jeremy.
He was thin as a stick, with gray hair, wearing a faded shirt that looked washed a hundred times, and he looked 20 years older.
He stood at the door for a long time before finally saying in a low voice, “Rosie… I just came to see you.”
I set down the book in my hands and looked at him calmly.
“Have you seen enough?”
He froze, eyes slowly filling with tears.
“Rosie, I know I messed up. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just wanted
you to know I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”
J
I smiled and said calmly, “But I stopped thinking about you a long time ago.”
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.
Lowering his head, he turned and left, his figure looked lonely in the
setting sun.
I watched him go, feeling absolutely nothing.
Seven years ago, I thought he was my whole world.
Seven years later, I finally understood that my real world was the mountains, rivers, and oceans I’d explored–and the person I’d rediscovered in myself.
I closed the bookstore door and looked up at the evening sky.
I planned to go into the mountains again tomorrow to find inspiration and
new stories to share with the children.
As for Jeremy, he’s just a passerby in my life now.
My journey is still long.
And he is no longer part of the view.
