However, the shadows of the past were not so easily dispelled. When Christopher proposed to me, I hesitated. I was afraid of being hurt again, afraid of losing again, afraid of betrayal, afraid of deception. I told Christopher about my past experiences, the pain I had suffered, my worries, my insecurities. I thought he would back away, but he didn’t.
“Lila, I know you’ve been hurt, but I’m willing to give you time, willing to wait for you to heal.”
“I love you, not because of your past, but because of your present and your future.”
“Time will prove everything. Trust me, okay?” Christopher held my hand, his gaze firm and gentle.
9
His words brought tears to my eyes. I no longer felt afraid, no longer hesitated. I said yes to him directly, because I knew he was
worthy of my lifelong trust, and I was willing to face any future storms with him.
Married life was blissful and sweet. Christopher and I managed our little shop together. When business wasn’t busy, we traveled,
enjoying the beauty of life. We went to more places, witnessed more breathtaking scenery. Our love deepened and grew stronger
with each trip. He taught me that being together isn’t about one party giving unconditionally, but about both sides making a conce-
rted effort. Our lives grew happier day by day.
But just when I thought I had completely shed the past, by chance, I saw Julian Winthorpe’s public apology on television. He stood
before the cameras, looking gaunt, his eyes filled with exhaustion and remorse. He wore a well–tailored suit, but his former vigor
had long vanished, replaced by a weariness born of hardship. He then delivered a lengthy, prepared speech to the reporters:
“Lila, I know I was wrong. I hurt you, and I hurt your mother.”
“Everything I said to you, everything I did, was my mistake.”
“Every day, I live in self–reproach, wishing time could rewind, allowing me the chance to atone for my mistakes.”
“Lila, please come back. Give me a chance. Let’s return to how things were. I promise, I will spend my entire life making amends
for the wrongs I’ve committed.”
Julian’s voice was deep and hoarse, but I could hear the sincerity in it.
Watching his apology, my heart remained calm. Five years had taught me to let go and find peace. I had once been consumed by
pain because of his betrayal, but now, I had walked out of that shadow. I had a new life, a new love, a new happiness. Julian’s apol- ogy didn’t move me. Instead, it made me feel little ridiculous. He had always been skilled at pretense and deception. He thought a simple apology could erase the mistakes he had made–that was indeed too laughable. What right did he have to ask me to retu- rn to his side? Some hurts cannot be mended, and some people, once missed, can never come back.
I turned off the television, no longer wanting to watch his performance. My life had entered a new chapter, I didn’t want to be troub- led by the past anymore. Every minute, every second I spent with Christopher, I was incredibly happy. I believed this was what Mot- her would have wanted to see.
Five years after leaving my hometown, through a series of coincidences, I decided to return to my country. The first thing I did upon returning was to visit my mother’s grave, to let her know I was doing well. At the same time, I wanted to see my family and friends, catch up, and resolve a long–held wish. After all, I had left so suddenly, and many people only found out I had gone abroad much later.
Christopher and I returned to the city I once knew so well, back to the place filled with memories. The landscape was still familiar, but my feelings had long since changed. I took Christopher to the monastery outside the city. It had been renovated, now surround- ed by lush trees, and the atmosphere was serene. My mother’s memorial hall was nestled in the quietest part of the monastery, surrounded by green trees and a tranquil environment. When I saw the hall, I froze.
00
Christopher and I returned to the city I once knew so well, back to the place filled with memories. The landscape was still familiar, but my feelings had long since changed. I took Christopher to the monastery outside the city. It had been renovated, now surround- ed by lush trees, and the atmosphere was serene. My mother’s memorial hall was nestled in the quietest part of the monastery, surrounded by green trees and a tranquil environment. When I saw the hall, I froze.
10
This memorial hall was grand in scale and exquisitely built, clearly having required immense thought and expense. A plaque hung above the entrance, inscribed with “Lila’s Sanctuary,” the calligraphy strong and meaningful. “Who built this memorial hall for your
mother?” Christopher, sensing my confusion, asked softly.
I didn’t know. I truly didn’t know. I had never imagined anyone would construct such a luxurious hall for my mother. But after the
initial bewilderment, my thoughts turned to one person. It could be no one but him.
With questions swirling, I stepped into the memorial hall. Inside, my mother’s memorial tablet was enshrined, accompanied by a
photograph of her. In the picture, Mother’s smile was gentle and kind, as if she had never known hardship. Fresh fruits and incense
sticks were placed before the tablet, indicating frequent visitors.
I didn’t care who had done what, or what their motives were. I simply took out the photos I had taken during my travels over the
years, burning them one by one for my mother. I told her which places I had visited, the people I had met, and the experiences I
had. I told her I was doing very well, asking her not to worry. I also introduced Christopher to her, hoping she would be happy for me
even in the afterlife.
Just as I was burning the last photograph, a familiar voice sounded behind me: “Lila.”
I turned, and saw Julian Winthorpe. He stood at the entrance, holding a bouquet of
iderably thinner than before. His hair was already streaked with gray, and seveWhite chrysanthemums, his figure tall, but cons-
that these past years had not been easy for him.
new
wrinkles creased his forehead, evident proof
“You came,” I said flatly, my voice devoid of emotion. It was clear Julian had often visited my mother’s memorial over the years, but I truly had nothing to say to him. If it weren’t for him, my mother and I might not be separated by life and death today. It was simply
too difficult for me to offer him a kind look.
“Lila, are you doing well?” He walked closer to me, asking softly. “All these years, I couldn’t find you. Do you know how much I’ve missed you?”
“I’m doing very well, thank you,” I replied, burning the last photograph. In the picture, Christopher and I were nestled together, our smiles radiant,
“Lila, can we go back to how things were? Give me a chance. Let me make amends for the mistakes I’ve committed.” Julian looked at me, his eyes full of expectation.
I shook my head, my voice firm. “No, Julian. From the moment you lied to me, from the moment my mother passed away, we were already over.” I turned to Christopher. “And I already have someone I love.” He stood by my side, silently supporting me. “This is my boyfriend, Christopher Stone,” I introduced.
Julian looked at Christopher, a flicker of surprise and loss in his eyes. He understood now. Whatever he was doing, I was irrevocably beyond his reach. “Lila, I wish you happiness.” Julian said, then turned and left the memorial hall. I watched his retreating back, feeling no ripple of emotion in my heart.
Christopher walked to my side, gently embracing me: “Lila, the past is past. The future is what matters most, I’ll be with you, walki- ng forward together.”
I leaned into his embrace, feeling his warmth. I knew I had made the right choice. I looked at my mother’s memorial tablet again, my heart filled with gratitude. With her spirit in heaven, she probably wouldn’t worry about me anymore.
