8
“You’re crazy, James Foster! You’ve gone mad!” Vanessa released her grip and stumbled backward.
James laughed maniacally.
My heart sank. I never imagined my death would drive James to such madness.
Vanessa was taken away by the police. Not only had she evaded taxes, but she had also been involved in other illegal activities. James had
turned over all the evidence.
It seemed Vanessa would spend the rest of her life in prison.
But before she left, Vanessa looked at James with venomous eyes.
“If I were Lily, I would never forgive you. Your belated feelings are worthless.”
Yes, I wouldn’t forgive James either.
From the moment James, chose someone else, from the moment he hurt my family, I could no longer forgive him.
But I was already dead, so forgiveness or not didn’t matter anymore.
My heart ached. Why do people only regret after learning the truth?
We were so good together once, trusting and caring for each other.
James transferred ownership of his company and returned to the flattened site of the flower shop.
For a long time, James rebuilt that place.
I sat idly nearby, watching James work. The whole world seemed to fall silent, though I occasionally felt bored.
I thought James was just acting on impulse, but he persevered for a year.
I watched as what was once a pile of rubble was rebuilt, feeling a mix of emotions.
Since he had destroyed it with his own hands, why go to all this trouble now?
Was James reminiscing about the past or seeking redemption?
How could something lost be regained?
James became increasingly busy, sourcing inventory, planting flowers, designing the storefront, seemingly trying to recapture the old feeling.
Both James and I knew that no matter how well it was restored, it would never be the same flower shop.
“Hello, I’d like to buy a bouquet of irises,” a young man said, the first customer to visit the shop.
12:21
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James looked up, tears suddenly welling in his eyes.
Irises were my favorite flowers.
“Sir? What’s wrong? Are there no irises?” the young man asked, confused by James’s blank stare.
James snapped back to reality and apologized. “I’m sorry, we don’t sell irises here.”
The young man’s sharp eyes spotted some irises in the corner. “Aren’t those irises over there?” he asked, pointing.
“Those… are reserved for someone I love,” James replied.
Recently, my soul had been feeling lighter. Sometimes I could even see my limbs becoming transparent.
Perhaps it was time for me to leave.
