"Alia... have you forgiven ?" the man murmured amidst the swirling emotions.
Alia Garcia’s body trembled, rationality returned, and she hurriedly pushed him away, straightening her back.
Her lips still felt like they were on fire, but she couldn’t care about that right now.
Her heartbeat was out of rhythm, her cheeks as hot as flas. She looked at the man in a panic, just now realizing how obviously she had "let go."
All her thoughts had been seen through by him.
Christopher Hart looked at the panic and helplessness in her eyes, a smile gradually forming at the corners of his mouth. "You don’t need to deny it. We’ve known each other for so many years; there’s no way I misread what you’re thinking."
"Is that so? Then why did you misread it back then?" Her skin was thin, and even when seen through, she had to continue pretending to be a paper tiger, ntioning the "pain" of the past in her fluster.
The smile on Christopher Hart’s face froze significantly.
"Back then, I really—"
"Forget it, let’s not talk about the past."
She knew that ntioning those matters of the past was unhelpful.
Since they had decided to give each other another chance, constantly bringing up old scores would only cause themselves unhappiness.
So before Christopher Hart could explain, she lightly changed the topic: "Did you go for your check-up today? What did the doctor say? Is your eyesight permanently restored? What about the blood clot in your brain? Is it moving or dissipating?"
Christopher, seeing her throw out a bunch of questions to obviously shift the topic, lightly smiled, his gaze fervently fixed on her. "Let’s not talk about that yet—you still haven’t answered my question."
Sure enough, her gaze began to wander again. "What question..."
"Have you forgiven ?" he stared intently at the woman, not missing even the slightest change in her expression.
Alia Garcia was secretly annoyed.
It was so obvious, yet he still asked?
Does he not know to give soone a bit of face?
What emotional intelligence!
"I don’t understand what you an. If you don’t answer, I’ll go find the doctor and might as well take out the trash." Alia was reluctant to make things clear, unwilling to let him gloat with excitent, so she played dumb, gathered the takeout box, and turned to leave.
Christopher sneered, his gaze withdrawn, pressing his lips together, unsure if he was still savoring the kiss or if his lips were burning.
————
Alia went outside, threw away the trash, and went to the doctor to find out about Christopher’s condition.
Upon learning that the blood clot in his head was gradually shrinking and was likely being absorbed, with diminishing impact on his vision, she was finally relieved.
Yet, she didn’t want to return to the ward imdiately, so she wandered downstairs.
The season had already turned to winter, and it was quite cold at night.
But the weather was nice, and looking up, she saw a sky full of stars.
Perhaps the vast, clear sky brought comfort to her mind, or maybe it was because... she’d finally let go of the obsession that had entangled her heart for years. Sitting on a vine chair, looking at the starry sky, she couldn’t stop a smile from curling on her lips.
Life is unpredictable, and one never knows what to expect.
She indeed never thought that this ordinary life would turn out so tumultuously.
Almost becoming a murderer in her youth, getting married inexplicably in adulthood, then being forced into divorce, and dramatically having three children, faking her death to escape...
She disappeared from her hotown city for over four years, returned with a different identity, thinking everything would be a new start, only to circle back to that person.
She even survived a plane crash, almost losing her life, and now she runs a company, although busy every day, she feels fulfilled.
If asked what more she seeks in the rest of her life?
She only wishes for her children’s safety and health, then she would be content.
The phone rang, bringing her back to her senses.
She took out the new phone and glanced at it; a strange number, and she frowned slightly.
Although Christopher had reapplied for her old phone number, half of the contacts were lost, making it impossible to recognize anyone just by the number.
"Hello."
"Hello, is this Miss Garcia?"
Miss Garcia?
Alia paused for a second. Her current identity was Clarke Norton.
Apart from so old acquaintances, everyone called her Miss Norton or President Norton.
"Who are you..."
"I’m Ginny, the writer you contacted before."
The voice on the other end was sweet and soft, and Alia suddenly recalled, "Is it you? I rember... Why are you looking for ?"
"Uh... well, I have writer’s block. Can I et with you to chat?"
"Writer’s block?" She didn’t understand, not being in the sa circle, she couldn’t react to the jargon imdiately.
"Yes, the content Mr. Hart discussed with stops at your return to the country. We were originally scheduled to et at a fixed ti, but then he had an accident... I contacted his assistant who told he now has selective amnesia, conveniently forgetting those few years."
Listening to her babble on, Alia roughly figured out why she’d sought her out.
"I intended to make up a continuation myself but worried that if one day Mr. Hart regained his mory, he’d find what I wrote had deviated from his original intent, which wouldn’t be good."
"So you’re looking for , hoping I can continue narrating the subsequent story for you?"
"Yes! Is that okay?" The sweet girl asked excitedly, hoping for an affirmative answer.
Alia chuckled, "Your novel got popular. Didn’t you make quite a bit?"
"Well, not bad..."
"Then shouldn’t you share so of that money with ?" she asked intentionally, not really wanting the money.
She just felt that the money was too easily earned.
Using soone else’s real experience as a template, adding one’s own ideas and descriptions, and then applying a bit of imagination—it could actually beco highly successful and make a small gain.
That writer Ginny didn’t understand her, thinking she genuinely wanted a share, hesitated a bit, and said: "How much do you want? When I signed the contract with Mr. Hart, this part wasn’t ntioned."
The implication being that soone as wealthy as Mr. Hart didn’t care for her little bit of money.
Though, given her family background and her current reputation and status in the circle, she actually didn’t care much about it either.
Alia understood the underlying aning of her words, smiled, and said, "Do you think I’m petty and calculative?"
"Not at all... If you provide with the continuation of the story, it’s only right to pay you so compensation."
"There’s no need, co to my company tomorrow, we’ll talk in person."
"Does that an you’ve agreed?!" The other party sounded very surprised.
"Why, did you hope I wouldn’t agree?"
"Of course not, it’s just that you previously asked to delete it, so I thought you... Oh, thank you! I’ll co find you tomorrow!"
The call hadn’t ended when the phone indicated another incoming call.
She looked at it, and the note was actually "Brother Christopher"!
That guy, truly finds pleasure in being cheesy!
"Sorry, I have another call coming in, I’ll hang up first—" She briefly inford the other side and answered Christopher’s call, deliberately keeping her tone indifferent, "What do you want now?"
"Where did you go?"
"Downstairs to look at the stars."
"Look at the stars?" Lying on the hospital bed, Mr. Hart glanced towards the window, but sadly, a lace curtain was drawn, showing no stars.
"You left alone in the ward to look at stars yourself?"
"So what? The stars are much better looking than you!"
He couldn’t be bothered to argue, directly ordering, "Co back up!"
"No, I haven’t properly spent ti with the kids since I got back. I plan to go ho and be with them. I just asked the doctor, your current condition is stable, no need to worry, the caregivers here are enough to take care of you."
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