This was the first time Elisa had seen a post about herself swiftly deleted. She held Mimi in one hand, absentmindedly touching the tag around its neck. Before long, her phone vibrated, and an unfamiliar message appeared on her screen.
“Elisa, I didn’t plan on using you as a substitute again. Stay by my side, I can protect you. Hamish is ruthless; if you want a better life, it’s best to stay away from him. He’s a lunatic.”
Elisa finished reading with a furrowed brow and instinctively tapped to reply. “Go ask your mom.” Her finger hovered over the keyboard for a moment, then, after a pause, she deleted the message entirely and blocked the sender, setting a custom notification sound.
On the other side, Finn had been waiting for Elisa’s response. He thought he had made himself clear enough. The village girl should have the sense to understand. But after half an hour passed without a reply, he began to wonder: had she not seen the message? Or was she afraid?
Finn composed another message and sent it. “As long as you honestly return to me, I can overlook everything you’ve done, including holding hands with that guy today.”
The message seemed to vanish into thin air. Finn sensed that something was amiss. He slammed his phone down. “Aoife, Aoife! You’ve really outdone yourself. The substitute is becoming more and more like the real thing. He’ll come crawling back sooner or later.” Frustrated, he couldn’t shake the sound of the rejected call from his mind.
To him, it was as if Elisa was right in front of him, pointing and cursing at him. He rose, kicked over the coffee table, and grabbed a vase, smashing it to pieces. Hearing the commotion, the butler hurried over and was shocked to find the mess.
Finn was known among the staff for his good temper, always wearing a smile and never winning a fight against Hamish, often looking pitiful with bruises on his face.
So when the butler saw the chaos and then locked eyes with Finn’s crimson gaze, he froze on the spot, feeling a sudden chill.
“Mr. Snearl… What’s wrong?”
Finn took a deep breath and suppressed his emotions. After a pause, his smile returned. “I’m fine. Arrange to have this cleaned up. I’m going to the study to work. Do not disturb me.”
“Yes, sir,” the butler quickly nodded. He watched Finn go into the study and finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Finn’s anger had not dissipated; it was merely sealed tightly within him. He sat at his desk, facing the computer, but couldn’t focus on the documents. Whenever he let his mind wander, all he could see was Louis leading Elisa away.
How did Elisa meet Louis? Their statuses were worlds apart, and Finn couldn’t fathom how they could have any connection. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but imagine. Where did Louis take Elisa today? Did they go to a hotel, have dinner together, share a room, take a bath, and then embrace, doing all the things he had never done with her before?
Could the village girl have already fallen for him? Allowing him to hold her hand, following him willingly.
How could this be? How could it happen?
Finn’s emotions churned, and the papers in his hand involuntarily twisted into a ball. When he realized, they were already too wrinkled to be of use, so he casually tossed them aside.
… Tonight, both Finn and Hamish were trapped in this torment, unable to sleep. Hamish didn’t dare to send a message; he could only revisit his past with Elisa.
Looking at the diary stained with tears and blood, he didn’t want to be so greedy, but he couldn’t bear to see the once innocent Elisa with other men.
He didn’t ask for much, just a year of her company.
That thing Elisa mentioned today, “Can I charge ten thousand dollars for half an hour of chat?” If he gave her all his worth, would she stay with him?
The night air was chilly as he held the worn diary close to his heart. Hamish used to have a strong body, rarely falling ill, but now, besides lung cancer, his stomach troubled him as well.
At this moment, he didn’t know whether to take his lung cancer medication or his stomach medicine. He clutched his chest; it felt as though his organs were riddled with nails, an all-encompassing pain. He couldn’t even find relief in expressing his agony. He doubled over in his chair, his large frame hunched, trembling from the pain. Hamish could endure the pain to the point of grinding his teeth and swallowing it down, not utteringa sound no matter how intense it became.
Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, he spat out a mouthful of blood. The viscous fluid dripped onto the floor from his mouth. He quickly wiped it away and then staggered to the bathroom, turning on the tap and rinsing his mouth with cold water. He used a damp towel to cover his mouth.
Every part of him felt riddled with pain, and Hamish, teary-eyed, found himself yearning for the past with Elisa. In the diary, she used to prepare his meals every day, reminding him to dress warmly when it was cold, knitting him scarves in winter, and secretly drawing his pictures when she missed him, folding her wishes into paper stars and origami cranes.
When in pain, one’s nerves weaken, and one can’t help but regret the past.
If only Elisa could cook him a bowl of noodles at a time like this.
If only she could remind him to take care of himself.
Even if it was futile, at least he wouldn’t regret it for the rest of his life.
Hamish took a few painkillers. After a while, the intense pain subsided, but his chest and stomach still felt uncomfortable, throbbing in waves, and even his head began to ache.
He was jolted out of his pain-induced reverie and hazily saw Elisa, the once proud Miss Powell, in a red dress, standing before him.
It felt so real, but Hamish knew it was just a dream. If it was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.
“Elisa… My stomach hurts. I want to eat the food you make. If you find it troublesome, just make some porridge.”
“Elisa… I won’t smoke again. I won’t use the ashtray to hit you.”
“Elisa… I’m dying. Can you come and see me again?”
“Elisa…”
“Elisa…”
“Elisa…”
In the dream, Elisa did nothing but look at him coldly. “Hamish, I’ve already been burned to death in a big fire. I won’t do any of these things for you anymore. From now on, you go your way in the sunshine, and I’ll cross my own bridges. We have no intersection.”
For three years after Elisa’s death, Hamish had been afraid to dream of her, fearing that dreaming of her three times would sever their connection.
Now that Elisa had returned, he could finally dream of her properly.
He had thought that dreaming of Elisa would be a good dream, only to realize in the end that it was a nightmare. He was trapped in the dream with no way out, feeling an unbearable, piercing pain.
And before him, there was a sea of fire, with Elisa standing in the midst of it, smiling at him in a red dress.
Hamish woke with a start from the nightmare. He immediately reached for his phone, fumbling to find the familiar number.
After hesitating for a long while, he trembled as he entered a message to Elisa.
“I miss you.”
He never thought Elisa would respond to his text, fearing she might recognize him and immediately block his number.
Trembling, Hamish continued, ‘I dreamt of you today. It was the past you, even more beautiful than you are now. It’s been so long since you last smiled at me, so long that I’m starting to forget what your smile looks like.’
At this moment, Elisa… probably had a radiant smile for someone else. Her tenderness and caring no longer belonged to him.
Only he… continued to dwell on the past.
As he closed his eyes, he once again saw that Christmas Eve, the faint figure urgently swimming towards him in the water. She was so slender, her arms so delicate, yet clutched tightly to him in the water.
The scene shifted, and he was holding a pregnant Elisa, cruelly throwing her from the second floor, the ground stained a jarring red.
Elisa, struggling, uttered, ‘Hamish, you’re truly cruel…’ Her sadness turned into despair.
From that moment, Elisa began to drift further and further away from him.
He checked his phone countless times, but there was no reply from Elisa.
In desperation, he mindlessly opened Twitter and searched for Elisa’s name. Her feed remained unchanged, and then he looked up Louis’.
Staring at a new update, a photo of two dishes and a soup, captioned ‘Delicious.’
Hamish immediately recognized it as Elisa’s cooking, as she had made countless home-cooked meals for him before. The colors and plating were identical, just looking at the photo made him smell the aroma.
Covering his damp face, Hamish realized Elisa was cooking for another man.
It was Louis.
He had clearly told her, it was Louis, not Autumn, but Elisa still chose to be with him. Fate had decided from the very beginning.
The right person will meet you eventually, and the wrong person will leave, time never speaks, but it holds the best answers.
Hamish was not resigned to this.
That year when he exchanged Elisa for Lila’s safety.
Elisa questioned him: asked if he feared she would be abused by the kidnappers.
His response at that time was, he wouldn’t mind, and if those people did anything to her, he would kill them, without a second thought.
Thinking about what he had said then, Hamish raised his hand and gave himself a hard slap.
Not mind? How could he not mind? How could he have said such words at that time?”