People who know their days are numbered fall into one of two extremes: those who ept a quiet death and those who, feeling life cheated them, harbor a vengeful spirit. From what she knew of Brett, Izabe was sure he was thetter type.


    The thirst for revenge can make a person pay any price to fill the void of resentment, even if it means enduring agonizing pain. At that final moment of death, there''s a rush of excruciating satisfaction. Memories of her past flickered in Izabe''s mind as she clenched her fists, knuckles whitening, fingertips digging into her palm, but she was oblivious to the pain.


    After a while, she released her grip, only btedly feeling the sting in her hand as she studied the crescent marks her nails had left.


    Casey was in the hospital. If she didn''t respond, his already frail body might not hold out. Izabe longed to go back, but she knew she couldn''t, not yet.


    After reading his message, she typed a response, only to delete it and start over again and again, unsure what to say to Casey.


    In the end, she settled for a brief reply.


    - Doing okay. Don''t worry. I''ll be back.


    The next day, Brett had two bikes ready. He pushed one towards Izabe and asked, "Can you ride?"


    Izabe knew how to ride, although it had been ages and she might be rusty. But if she didn''t ride herself.


    Her gaze flicked to the bike''s rear seat.


    She took the handlebars. "Where are we headed?"


    "Just follow me," Brett said, almost too casually.


    The morning air was crisp, and cycling was not only good for the body but also for soothing nerves and unwinding.


    As Izabe pedaled forward, she couldn''t guess where Brett was taking her. The chill wind tousled her hair, a bit too cold forfort.


    Brett was underdressed, in a light sweater and no coat, leading the way on his bike, never more than two meters ahead, sometimes riding beside her.


    The scenery was breathtaking, the kind of fresh air sorely missed in the congestion of the city. It was only then that Izabe realized how vast the Windham estate was the whole hillside belonged to them. Brett said it wasn''t far, but they''d been riding for well over half an hour.


    At first, it was easy, but fatigue set in, and Izabe had no energy to admire the surroundings. She watched Brett, who seemed to ride effortlessly ahead, biting back her irritation at his previous day''s promise. He said if she apanied him, he would take her back to R City.


    "We''re here."


    Having ridden this far, Brett''s expression remained normal, but hisplexion was somewhat pallid. He turned his head, meeting Izabe''s gaze with a dim look in his eyes. Brett''s eye sockets were deep, and his long eyshes partially concealed his gaze, making it elusive.


    Izabe looked up, ncing past Brett''s figure; it was a quiet graveyard nestled among the hills, the final resting ce of generations of the Windham family.


    Brett leaned his bike against a tree and walked in, with Izabe hesitating before following.


    Finally, he stopped in front of two tombstones.


    After a silent vigil, Brett''s lips curved into a sad smile. "Mom, Dad, I''ve brought someone special to meet you."


    Izabe frowned but said nothing.


    The tombstones bore photographs, waterproofed and regrly cleaned. Despite the years, the signs of time were evident.


    Brett was the perfect blend of his parents'' features, strikingly handsome.


    He knelt, tracing the inscriptions before sinking to his knees. "I should have brought her to you sooner," he murmured, his voice a whisper of regret. "I''ve wasted too much time, lost too much feeling." So much so that Izabe no longer loved him. Bringing her here now held little meaning.


    Brett''s lonely figure knelt silently, his voice fluctuating, as if a gust of wind could blow him away.


    He didn''t speak again, his thoughts turned inward. The images of his parents grew blurrier with each attempt to remember, always ending with the car crash that took their lives, their blood clouding his vision. He wept helplessly, the water rising, the scent of blood everywhere.


    The nightmare had haunted him for over a decade until one Christmas Eve, when he was pushed into the icy water and a slender figure dove in after him, pulling him to safety.Content held by N?velDrama.Org.


    Since then, Brett had stopped dreaming about the ident, and even his fear of water had lessened.


    In his photo album, there were pictures only of himself, no friends, no family. The few he had were burned by someone long ago. At an age when he needed his parents the most, he had nothing left of them bu these graves to visit.


    Pitiable? Yes.


    But also loathsome.


    Izabe stood by for ten minutes, the warmth of her body fading, the cold sweat turning chill as the wind howled around them.


    Noticing her difort, Brett rose. "Let''s go back."


    "Don''t you want to stay longer?"


    "There''s no need." He''d see them soon enough. There was no rush. "You wanted to return to R City, right? We''ll go back today."


    They didn''t hop on their bikes immediately but instead walked slowly, pushing the bikes along.


    "If," Brett said, his voice hollow, "I had met you before Casey, or if I hadn''t mistaken Kaley for you back then, would things be different now?"


    Izabe remained silent, the wind in the valley moaning as if in answer to Brett''s question.


    Desperate for a lifeline, he pressed, "If time could rewind, back to the beginning."


    "Perhaps," Izabe''s voice drifted on the breeze, reaching Brett''s ears.


    A flicker of hope lit up Brett''s dim eyes, but it was quickly extinguished by Izabe''s cool continuation.


    "But there are no ''what ifs'' in life, Brett," Izabe said, turning to nce at the rows of tombstones behind her. Even on the brightest days, the cemetery seemed to cast a pall of gloom.


    "I spent my life teaching you how to love someone, but it seems you never learned," Izabe''s tone wasced with an icy sarcasm.


    "Then tell me, how does one truly love another?"


    "If you truly loved her, you should let


    her go, make a clean break, wish


    each other happiness, not inflict


    pain. Your so-called love feels more like revenge because I don''t love you back Was taking her on typical dates what he called love? Was bringing her to a graveyard to meet his deceased parents love?


    Brett''s eyes reddened. "If Casey left you for another woman, could you really let him go?"


    "Have you forgotten why I''m still here with you?" Izabe looked at him earnestly, "I love Casey, and for him, I willinglye to your side to ensure his safety. That''s the difference between how you love and how I love."


    Asking him to let go was too much.


    Brett''s face turned ashen; he felt like he was clutching a handful of sugar, the harder he gripped, the faster it slipped through his fingers. Before he could even taste its sweetness, the sugar was gone, leaving him to futilely lick the residual sweetness from his palm. The sweeter the lingering taste, the deeper his regret.


    Brett had always known the oue; he and Izabe were like intersecting lines that, once crossed, would only drift further apart. He couldn''t salvage anything


    ??


    be with Izabe, and despite preparing himself a hundred fold for the loss, he still didn''t know how to face losing her.


    It was like that time when Izabe had jumped into the water to save him, and he didn''t know how to ept the helping hand she reached out to him. In his panic, he identally tore off her pearl earring, causing her earlobe to tear and bleed, whichter required stitches.


    When they had arrived in J City, they brought no luggage, so naturally, there was nothing to pack when leaving.