Chapter 167: Good luck has co Chapter 167: Good luck has co At this mont, Maureen didn’t know where she could go.
She bought a plane ticket with cash, ordered a cup of coffee, hugged her coat and sat down, staring blankly at the pitter-patter rain outside.
She watched planes take off one by one from the tarmac through the floor-to-ceiling window, yet she did not board.
Everyone else seed to have a destination, but she was clueless about her own.
Finally, she sat all day at the airport with her suitcase, tore up the ticket she had bought, and aimlessly dragged her luggage, planning to leave.
When she was about to leave, Maureen accidentally dropped her passport onto the floor.
A minute later, Her passport was picked up by a slender hand defined with distinct knuckles.
The owner of this hand was a young man.
The young man was holding a black long-handle umbrella, standing out from the crowd with his dazzling red short hair.
He got a bit wet during his transit, his trench coat cuffs and black suitcase both looked a bit damp, his red hair slightly wet, made his eyes and eyebrows appear even more profound.
He turned around, holding the passport, and glanced at the figure that just passed by him.
“Excuse , sir, can I help you with anything?” “It’s hers.” The young man handed the passport to the airport staff at the boarding gate and asked them to chase after her to return it.
He paused montarily, feeling a sense of unease.
The crowd surged around him.
As if set against a bustling scene on fast-forward, he uncharacteristically turned his head for another look.
Just as Maureen was about to leave the security checkpoint, a staff mber ran after her, handing her the passport she had accidentally left behind.
“Thank you.” The staff mber also handed her a man’s umbrella.
A black long-handled umbrella, with a golden letter embroidered on its edge.
Maureen paused for a mont and instinctively looked back.
However, the person who found her passport had already boarded the plane.
Dragging her suitcase, Maureen left the airport.
Indeed, it was still raining outside.
In the dense rain, the skirt hem got wrapped around her slender, fair legs due to the wind.
Her face and lips were sowhat pale, not because she was cold, but because at this mont, she could feel her life rapidly draining away.
Hugging her arms around herself, she opened the umbrella in her hand.
Maureen tilted her head back, twirling the umbrella in her hand.
She looked at the swirling rain and the letters beneath the black umbrella’s surface.
She felt, this might be the first ti heaven had been kind to her in a while.
They searched for Maureen for three months.
They didn’t find her.
Oliver visited city S but when he was there, the locals told him that Maureen hadn’t returned.
Later, Mr.
Smith discovered the plane ticket Maureen had bought, but then was inford that Maureen did not board the plane.
In the vast sea of people, the Smith family realized how hard it was to find soone who no longer willingly made contact with them.
They could always get in touch with Maureen before.
When Chris got into trouble with a classmate and didn’t dare to call his parents, a quick phone call and Maureen would anxiously rush over.
When Mrs.
Smith ntioned dinner at ho, Maureen would excitedly return with a large bag of gifts, simply because she wanted to be with them, eager for family reunion.
However, once Maureen didn’t want to do that anymore, they suddenly realized that it was always Maureen who approached them, while they seldom initiated involvent in her life.
* In the end, the Smith family never saw Maureen one last ti.
During her last days, Maureen didn’t contact or disturb anyone.
At that ti, the He family was almost bankrupt, and she didn’t want to bother them.
The Donald family seed to have been hit with bad luck since eting her, and Maureen didn’t want to continue bringing misfortune upon the Donald in her last days.
She returned to City S, contacted the local village committee and the civil affairs bureau in charge of cremation, filled out her information, and carried out the registration procedures.
Having grown up on this piece of land, she still knew a few people in the town, so she confided in Auntie Elisa, who helped her a lot during her last days.
When the Smith family hurried over, Maureen’s seven-day mourning period was over.
That was the first ti the Smiths saw a rural funeral parlor.
Sparse white funeral wreaths, smoke rising from cold air.
Simple and desolate.
Although Maureen had insisted she wanted no ritual for her passing, only a simple cremation, Aunt Elisa still wept bitterly, not heeding her wishes.
White flowers adorned the entrance of the street office in the chill of winter, with the occasional familiar face who once knew Maureen and her grandmother coming to pay their respects.
Mourning veils were handed to the mbers of the Smith family waiting at the entrance.
…
The mbers of the Smith family stared in shock at everything happening around them, their fingers heavy as though filled with lead, cold sweat beaded on every pore, unable to raise their hand to take the veil.
They stood frozen, unable to utter a word, the world spinning around them, everything going black.
What kind of feeling was this?
A vibrant life cruelly fading away right before their eyes, and by the ti they had hurriedly rushed to be there, not even the last withered petal could they pick up.
All the things that they were expecting they could slowly change, accept, and make up for over the rest of their lives, these opportunities were no longer given by Maureen.
They always thought there was plenty of ti, but who would have thought it could be so brief.
Maureen had passed away.
Her life eternally halted at the age of twenty-three.
Mrs.
Smith looked dimly at the burning brazier in the funeral hall, her breath short, eyes blurry with tears, and she let out a heart-wrenching scream and fainted.
A half-month after Maureen’s death, the mbers of the Smith family still felt as if their souls were departed.
All of it happened abruptly, and Maureen departed without leaving a thing or even a single word behind.
They had nowhere to place their tributes to her mory.
She did not bid them a proper farewell.
It was unclear whether she was punishing them for not giving her a warm welco when they brought her ho at the age of fifteen.
At tis, they felt as though they were in a dream.
In their daze, they felt as if Maureen was still running around the school lab and just hadn’t called ho much.
It was only when they fully awoke that they realized with stark clarity that Maureen was gone.
More than once, Mrs.
Smith recalled the last words she had said to Maureen before her death, and the last look she had given her.
The last sentence she said to her was a reprimand, and her last glance was also full of severity from their argunt.
She hadn’t even properly hugged her before her death, let alone offered her a uniquely cherished mont.
Even when she learned that Maureen was terminally ill, her first reaction was doubt!
What on earth had she done as a mother?!
Mrs.
Smith was overwheld with grief.
Maureen had passed away with these negative, criticized, and rejected mories, thus she didn’t contact any of their family before she died.
She must have been utterly despondent, not wanting to see them ever again.
Mrs.
Smith thought of this every day and night, her soul in torture.
She couldn’t sleep; the mont she closed her eyes, she only saw monts of blaming Maureen, her regret and heartache for Maureen ca flooding back, drowning her until she was on the verge of suffocation.
Does life offer a second chance?
If ti could turn back, Mrs.
Smith would like to run to hug her when Maureen hesitantly stepped into the Smith household at the age of fifteen.
If ti could turn back, Chris would not steal that Chemistry Olympiad registration form, nor would he stubbornly confront Maureen; instead, he would beco a good little brother, pulling her behind him for protection.
If ti could turn back, Oliver would, on the first day of school, when taking Maureen to register, notice her quiet timidity and panic, and comfort her patiently and gently, helping her quickly adjust to the city.
If ti could turn back, Mr.
Smith would also like to spare more ti to spend with his daughter who had been wandering alone for many years.
…
However, ti cannot turn back.
All that is gone, won’t co back.
And so it goes, day by day.
The tides of grief, pain, regret, and sorrow pass with ti.
A year after Maureen’s death.
The Smith family can barely continue to live, however, the deeply torn scar leaves an everlasting imprint, marked on each of their hearts.
When Maureen was alive, no one in the family truly looked at her.
Ironically.
After Maureen’s death, everyone cherished her.
Mrs.
Smith forbade any servants from entering her room, and no one was allowed to touch her belongings.
She often stared blankly as she sat atop Maureen’s bed, occasionally thumbing through her daughter’s old notes and test papers.
When Oliver and Mike ntioned that they once had a sister, they would keep silent, before telling others how excellent their sister was.
Mr.
Smith made so charitable donations in the na of Maureen.
Chris, after moving out, also took with him the cat he had raised with Maureen.
Yet, Maureen would never co back.
She would never smile at them again.
She would never appear at their dining table again.
She would never give them a chance to make ands.
In this life, Bianca got everything she wanted, her life seed to go smoothly without a hitch.
However, in the place beyond her sight, Smith’s family mbers all cherished the mory of “Maureen”, a painful touch point.
Moreover, because of Maureen’s death, the Smith family could not treat Bianca better.
Because the deceased Maureen beca an insurmountable hurdle for them.
However, for the departed Maureen, none of this mattered.
No matter how many mories and thoughts, she cannot see them.
After Maureen died, mory was a process of gradually becoming faint in a daze, all the scenes in her mind faded, finally only staying on that rainy day, on the spinning umbrella.
When she opened her eyes again, she returned to seventeen.
Her mory is no longer so detailed.
She rembers so events that happened at certain points in her previous life, but she doesn’t rember this umbrella.
It was as if a dragonfly had gently landed on the tip of her heart, leaving no trace in the end.
However, good luck has co.
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