30 Days of Passion and Revenge-Chapter 313: We So Foolish

"If you don’t like these, I’ll buy new ones. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you. Just tell me what you want, Lily. Please."

"I just want us to be like we were as kids... Lily, please don’t push me away."

"It’s only nine years between us. Why can’t we go back to the way things were?"

"Why are we so foolish? Why don’t we know the answer? Why do I have to stand here and watch you walk further and further away?"

"I keep wondering—why can’t we just return to the beginning?"

A single tear slipped down Lily’s cheek.

At the Cemetery

The hillside was breathtaking—fields of wildflowers stretched endlessly below, their colors weaving together in a brilliant tapestry.

At the top of the hill, two gravestones adorned with fresh flowers stood side by side.

The images etched into the stone captured frozen smiles—Lily’s father, Henry Anderson, and his beloved wife. The markers signified death, yet the photographs preserved their joy, untouched by time.

A tall figure knelt before the graves.

Alex Carter. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

The sunlight cast sharp lines across his face as he reached out, brushing aside the flowers. His long fingers traced the engraved names, searching for something.

"Where is it? Where’s our wedding ring?!"

"I left it at my mother’s grave."

Alex’s jaw tightened.

Unwilling to accept the answer, he dug through the soft earth with his bare hands. Dirt wedged itself beneath his nails, staining his pale fingers.

That ring—their ring—was supposed to lead them to the altar.

He had to find it.

Desperation clawed at him as he dug deeper, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

His fingers struck something solid.

Beneath the layers of dirt, a small metal box emerged.

It was rusted and worn by time, the faded image of Snow White still visible on its lid.

Alex pried it open, his heart pounding.

Inside, tucked between old trinkets, lay pieces of a childhood long gone.

Paintbrushes. A vinyl record. A tiny doll, no bigger than his palm.

His breath caught. He recognized it all.

The doll—he had given it to her.

The record—Chopin’s piano pieces. His favorite.

He reached for the old sketches, carefully stacked beneath the other keepsakes.

One by one, he flipped through them.

Every single drawing was of him.

Every single one.

Each sketch was signed with notes in Lily’s delicate handwriting:

"Alex, smiling."

"Alex, frowning."

"Alex, playing the piano."

"Alex, hiding alone again."

"Alex made the cutest face today. I love it. No one in the world looks better than Alex."

His fingers brushed over her words, the paper slightly worn from time.

Every note, every drawing—these weren’t just casual sketches.

They were records.

Records of the way she had seen him, the way she had memorized every expression, every movement.

Nine years ago, Lily’s world had contained only him.

A gust of wind swept through the cemetery, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers.

Alex’s vision blurred.

He continued flipping through the box, his movements slower, more reverent.

Beneath the sketches, a small leather notebook rested at the bottom.

A diary.

Alex hesitated before opening it.

Her handwriting filled the pages, and every entry was about him.

"Alex is really handsome. None of the boys in class look as good as he does. So many girls like him and ask me to give him their love letters. It’s funny, though—I’ve never written one myself. How do you even write a love letter?"

"Alex hid from everyone again today. I think I’ve figured out all the places he likes to go—kindergarten, the piano room, the greenhouse, and that quiet street corner two blocks away... Alex, you should find more hiding spots so I can better find you."

A quiet, breathless laugh escaped him.

This was Lily before Ethan.

Before betrayal.

Before everything shattered.

He had been her entire world.

And now...

He ran his fingers over the faded ink, his chest tightening with something too heavy to name.

"Why couldn’t we just go back?"

The wind whispered through the trees, and for the first time in years, Alex Carter felt something dangerously close to regret.

Tears fell.

A soft smile tugged at Alex Carter’s lips—warm and radiant beneath the sunlight.

Idiot.

He had always hidden in the same places on purpose.

So that she could find him.

"Today, Alex made sweet and sour fish for me. It was so, so good. I’ll remember this taste for the rest of my life—until the day I die. Then I’ll tell our children and grandchildren all about it."

Alex went abroad, and I feel so lonely without him. He can play the piano for me, take me swimming, help me with my drawings, and make the cutest expressions.

"Alex can do so many things."

"But I don’t want to do anything when he’s not here. Alex, come back soon."

The diary entries stopped after that.

That was the year everything fell apart.

Her father was imprisoned.

Her mother leaped from a building, ending her own life.

By the time Alex returned... she was gone.

Vanished.

Without warning. Without a trace.

He had no time to prepare. No way to stop it.

And from that moment on, something inside him had been missing.

For years, he had hidden in the same places. But no one ever came looking for him.

For years, he had played the piano alone. But no one sat beside him, dreaming about the future.

She had disappeared, taking his soul with her. Leaving nothing behind.

If none of that had happened—if they had never been separated for nine years—would everything have been different?

Would they have had a chance?

Alex let out a shaky breath, setting the diary aside.

Something else caught his eye at the bottom of the box.

A white envelope.

Slowly, he opened it, pulling out the letter inside.

Lily’s handwriting filled the page.

Mom, I have to leave. They won’t let me take anything from home. They say Dad committed a crime, so I can’t keep anything.

I snuck back late at night, like a thief. I wanted to take as much as I could. But in the end, everything I grabbed was from Alex. I took nothing from you or Dad... except our family photo.

Uncle told me I couldn’t live the way I used to. He said I needed to grow up and stop clinging to silly things like dolls.

So I left all of Alex’s things with you.

One day, I’ll come back for them—with Alex.

By then, we’ll be married. And he’ll call you Mom, too.

Mom, how long do I have to stay with Uncle? When will Dad come get me?

Will Alex forget me?

Maybe he’ll come to visit you.

I’m writing Uncle’s address in this letter. If Alex sees it, he can find me.

Mom, I’m going to live with Uncle now.

Will you be lonely all by yourself?

Alex isn’t with me anymore, and I feel so alone.

Mom, I’m really going to miss you...

I don’t know what life will be like at Uncle’s house.

Without you, Dad, or Alex, I’m scared.

Please, don’t let Alex forget me.

I love him so, so much.

He can’t forget me.

I still want to marry him.

As you said—one day, Dad will walk me down the aisle and place my hand in Alex’s.

And then, our families will be happy together forever."

Alex gripped the letter, his hands trembling.

She had never meant to disappear.

She had never meant to leave him behind.

She had spent all those years waiting.

And he...

He had spent all those years believing she had abandoned him.

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying away the last remnants of a childhood that had slipped through his fingers.

"If Alex finds me, I won’t have to stay at Uncle’s house anymore. Alex will protect me."

The letter was long, the words scattered, almost incoherent at times.

It was clear how frightened she had been when she wrote it.

She had been terrified of living with her uncle.

She had no idea how long she would be gone.

She had no idea when her father would come for her.

No idea if Alex would still remember her.

At that time, the only thing on her mind was marrying him.

Nine years ago, Lily loved him—an innocent love nurtured from childhood and woven into every part of her life.

"Just like you said—Dad will give my hand to Alex."

"And then our families will live happily together."

Our families.

She had imagined a future where their families lived in harmony.

She had imagined a future where they had children and grandchildren—a life built together.

A future where he was there.

And what had he done to that future?

What had he turned her happiness into?

Alex’s hands trembled as he stared at the address at the page’s bottom.

"Don’t let Alex forget me. I love him so, so much."

"If Alex sees this, he’ll find me."

He had believed she never loved him.

He had believed she had used him as a stepping stone to Ethan.

He had believed so many things.

But none of them were true.

"I love him so, so much."

"I love him so, so much."

The words echoed in his mind, tearing through him like a blade.

Why was he only seeing this now?

Why had no one let him see it sooner?

Why had everything changed?

Why hadn’t he just stayed by her side?

Why hadn’t he held her hand and walked to the altar?

Why had it come to this?

Why was he only seeing it now, years too late?

She had never forgotten the future she dreamed of.

But he...

He had erased it from his mind.

"Ah—!"

A raw, guttural scream tore from Alex’s throat, echoing across the hillside.

Tears slipped down his face, carving silent paths across his skin.

He collapsed to his knees before the gravestone, clutching the letter in his trembling hands.

Regret. Endless, suffocating sadness.

"Lily... I was wrong."

"I was so wrong."

His entire life, he had been her protector.

And now?

Now, he had destroyed everything she had ever loved.

Everything she had ever dreamed of.

Suddenly, Alex surged to his feet.

Without hesitation, he ran down the hillside.

The sun stretched his shadow long across the ground as he moved, desperate, reckless.

He climbed into his car and sped toward the city.

But before he could reach his destination before he could see her—

A fleet of black sedans appeared ahead of him.

Ten cars. Maybe more.

They blocked the bridge from both sides, trapping him in the middle.

Alex exhaled slowly, gripping the letter tighter.

He knew this was the end of the road.

With a quiet sigh, he stepped out of the car.

The wind lifted the hem of his long white coat, streaked with dust and dirt from the graveyard.

His short, ash-brown hair caught the sunlight, making him appear almost ethereal.

His face—sharp, handsome, untainted by time—remained expressionless.

Except for the faint redness in his eyes.

The only trace of the tears he had shed.