Chapter 7
The next day, following Margaret’s repeated instructions, Vincent and I set off for Pearl Harbor Base.
After traveling by train, ship, and car, we finally reached our destination.
I took a deep breath, savoring the faint salty ocean breeze in the air.
Tall palm trees stood in the distance, and the sky was cloudless -nothing but pure blue.
“Conditions here are pretty rough,” Vincent said, carrying our luggage while nervously watching my expression. “Fresh vegetables are in short supply. Just let me know whatever you want to eat.”
“Vincent, I genuinely love it here,” I said.
Hearing this, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Our island life began.
Indeed, as Isabelle had complained about in her previous life, the land here was barren, supplies were limited, and many necessities had to be obtained through our own efforts.
But for someone like me who had shouldered heavy farm work
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and household chores since childhood, having to care for just two people felt incredibly blissful. What’s more, there were sweet coconuts here, along with many tropical fruits I’d never seen before.
This filled me, having grown up inland, with the joy of discovering treasure.
When Vincent attended his daily military training, I kept myself busy too.
I’d either tend to newly planted seedlings in our yard or join other military families collecting seafood at the beach.
We savored all the ocean’s delicacies.
Our life was simple yet happy.
During our first Christmas at the base, I gave birth to an eight–pound baby boy.
Perhaps his arrival brought me good fortune–drawing on the business knowledge I’d accumulated in my previous life, I established a rubber products factory on the island.
This factory not only provided job opportunities for military families but also gave local residents an additional source of income.
As transport ships came and went more frequently, everyone’s
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life gradually improved.
By our third Christmas, when the factory had expanded, I gave birth to twins–a boy and a girl–but this time Vincent was away on a military mission during the delivery.
It wasn’t until late at night on the twins‘ full–month celebration that he finally returned to base, travel–worn and exhausted.
Looking at the weary man before me, I said with some displeasure, “You’re finally back.”
Vincent looked at me with concern, wanting to embrace me but hesitating where he stood.
“Darling, thank you. We won’t have any more children after this.”
Seeing his cautious demeanor, I broke into laughter through my
tears.
I recalled my previous life when I’d given birth to seven children in succession—all forced upon me by the Wilson family.,
When I consulted a doctor about tubal ligation surgery, the Wilson family dragged me home and beat me violently, after which Frank tormented me further.
But now, thinking back to those events from my past life, my heart felt unprecedentedly calm.
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Perhaps my current peace of mind came entirely from Vincent–he had given me a brand new life.
“I should be the one thanking you,” I said softly, gazing at the
sleeping infants. “Thank you for giving me a fresh start, for giving me three beautiful children.”
We smiled at each other.
