The Maybach was driving down the road.
They were about to leave the city limits.
Holly had lived with her parents in Port Kallow when she was a child. Later, when both parents were transferred for work and the school provided them with housing, they moved out with Holly.
The elderly couple had saved money their entire lives intending to buy a house in Beldon, but then they decided to buy her a house in Glynre instead, so they continued renting a place.
A couple of years ago, the elentary school in Port Kallow expanded its enrollnt, and the couple renovated their old house, volunteering to return to Port Kallow to teach. One continued as the principal, the other as the music teacher.
Port Kallow is on the edge of Beldon, and it takes about three hours to drive there.
Once in the car, Holly started telling Blake Sinclair about her family.
"Port Kallow is near the water. It used to rely on fishing, but now it’s developed into a tourist town, though the old ways remain... My grandfather was the director of the porcelain factory in Port Kallow..."
She rambled on for a while, finally emphasizing, "My mom’s been teaching for almost twenty-five years. You know how teachers get. Her voice always carries a bit of a principal’s authority, so don’t be scared when you hear her."
She had talked so much that her mouth was almost dry.
Holly glanced at the man in the driver’s seat. Blake Sinclair was holding the steering wheel; his eyes were calm and quiet behind his gold-rimd glasses.
But she knew he was listening. He would provide feedback and respond to everything she said.
"By the way, my dad planted an osmanthus tree in the yard last year, and recently he said it’s been so hot in Beldon that it started blooming in July..."
"I’m not allergic," Blake suddenly interjected, a hint of a smile in his voice, "You’ve already ntioned that osmanthus tree your father planted."
Holly was montarily speechless.
The light turned red, and the car stopped.
Holly held back for a while, but couldn’t resist tapping his arm, "Blake Sinclair, is there anything else you want to ask?"
He turned his head, eyes slightly arched behind his glasses, a smile on his lips, "You’ve been quite detailed."
Holly knitted her brows lightly, a strange restlessness creeping up inside her.
Just as she was about to say more, she saw Blake Sinclair pick up a thermos, unscrewing the lid effortlessly and handing it to her, "Drink so water."
She was indeed thirsty.
Holly accepted the cup; the water was at a moderate temperature, just right for drinking. She took two sips, feeling the dryness in her throat alleviate significantly.
After she finished drinking, Blake naturally took back the cup, tightened the lid, and placed it back.
Holly let out a soft sigh, mocking herself, "Why does it feel like I’m more nervous than you?"
In reality, he should be the nervous one, eting her family for the first ti.
Blake raised his hand, gently patting the top of her head with an air of reassurance, "Mrs. Sinclair, you can have a little faith in your husband."
But Holly didn’t shy away, her cheeks warming at the laughter in his voice.
The countdown on the red light entered its last few seconds, and Blake reached into the back, pulling a brown paper bag and placing it gently on her lap.
"It’s a long drive, have a snack."
He also turned down the volu of the music, "If you’re tired, feel free to rest."
Holly looked down at the bag on her lap, smiling helplessly.
She was an adult, not a child needing snacks on a car ride...
But as she opened the bag and saw the dried plums, mung bean cakes, osmanthus pear mochi, chips, and braised chicken feet...
Alright, one really can’t empathize with oneself from a mont ago.
The realization hit her hard.
Her hands earnestly tore open a pack of dried plums, picking the largest one and popping it into her mouth. The sweet and sour taste exploded on her tongue, utterly satisfying!
She ate a few more, suddenly rembering that when they left earlier, he wasn’t carrying these snacks. When did he prepare them?
Holly held a chip, her gaze involuntarily drifting to the rearview mirror toward the trunk.
Before they got into the car, she saw several gift boxes there, asking Blake about them. He only said they were ’presents for eting the in-laws’.
eting presents?
Unless she was mistaken, one of those boxes held a chess set made from gold silkwood inlaid with mother of pearl. She saw it at a cultural heritage exhibition; it was the final masterpiece of a heritage master before retirent and was impossible to buy. There was also a double-sided silk embroidered scarf from a similar master, requiring advance ordering.
These items weren’t sothing you could gather on a whim.
Holly squinted, turning to him, a hint of inquiry in her tone, "Blake Sinclair, be honest, did you already know I was bringing you there?"
She pointed toward the back seat, "Those things in the trunk couldn’t be prepared in just a day or two."
Blake chuckled softly, turning the steering wheel smoothly while making a turn.
He turned to look at her, prolonging his words, "You’re too clever, my wife, can’t hide anything from you."
The words "my wife" resonated in her ears, causing Holly’s cheeks to flush.
The car entered the tunnel, and the world suddenly dimd.
Unexpectedly, the car ca to a halt amid traffic.
The tunnel’s indicator lights cast fleeting glimrs on the car windows, creating flickering patterns on Blake’s profile.
He shifted gears, turning toward her, his eyes focused, "I heard you making a phone call in the room yesterday. As for those things, I began preparing them from the day we got married."
Holly’s breath caught for a mont.
His gaze settled on her slightly trembling eyelashes, his speech slowing purposefully, "I’ve been waiting for this day, waiting for you to be willing to bring ho."
Her heart felt like sothing had struck it forcefully, pounding rapidly and fiercely.
Holly clutched at her seatbelt.
"Why..." her voice trembled a bit.
Holly had always believed marrying Blake was out of necessity, a convenient arrangent.
Maybe one day in the future, they would part ways, like a makeshift boat used to cross turbulent waters, eventually docking separately once the storm cald.
But he said he started preparing after their marriage.
He said he had been waiting for this day.
Blake’s eyes were deep, "Holly."
It was the first ti he addressed her like that.
His fingers lightly caressed the wedding band on the steering wheel, "Do you believe that so fates are actually seeds sown many years ago?"
Soon the traffic cleared, and Blake smirked, shifting his gaze forward, continuing to drive.
Holly’s heart raced.
A thought wildly grew in her mind, but before she could grasp it, it flitted away.
With only half-understanding.
Suddenly, light erged as the car exited the tunnel, heading onto the ocean bridge, the vivid blue sea and sky bursting into view unprepared.
Holly lowered the car window, letting the sea breeze, salty and damp, sweep through the vehicle, cooling her face but doing little to quell her flushed cheeks.
But it seed to lift so of the misty veil between them.
Her hair billowed in the wind, the sunlight filtering through the window landing on her shoulders, and inside her, sothing seed quietly transford.
A swirl of anxiety, a tinge of sweetness, accompanied by a trace of unnoticed bewildernt.
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