Chapter 25
Grant thought he had been in control all this time. Turned out that throughout these days, his anxiety, fear and panic–she had known about them all.
Unable to hold back, Grant walked up and pulled Lumina into his arms.
In the past, Rebecca had loved to paint, but she never painted him. He had asked her once and Rebecca always lowered her head, saying she was too afraid to paint because she thought it wouldn’t be good enough.
Yet, many times, Grant had seen Rebecca’s studio, late into the quiet nights, where her canvases were filled with his image. But by the early morning, she would destroy those paintings. He had seen the unease and reluctance in her eyes as she tore them up.
That’s when he understood–Rebecca was
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Chapter 25
still afraid of losing him.
Her childhood trauma had subconsciously made her believe that nothing would ever truly belong to her. Even when loved, she remained guarded, always expecting loss.
That’s why Grant had come up with the idea of writing her love letters.
If his love could never calm her fears of loss, then the best thing he could do was tell her, over and over again, that she would never lose him.
Once wasn’t enough–he‘ d say it twice. Twice wasn’t enough–he’d say it ten times. Ten times wasn‘ t enough–he‘ d say it a hundred times.
Was there really a shortcut to loving someone?
The more than one hundred love letters had finally opened Rebecca’s heart completely. They had successfully become engaged, on the brink of stepping into marriage together.
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Chapter 25
For a time, Grant thought he had truly succeeded. He had broken down his lover’s defenses with his love and they would never be apart again.
But reality struck him hard.
Only when death took his lover away did he realize that even if Rebecca did wake up in the end, he would never feel secure again. The fear of loss, the constant anxiety, nearly consumed him.
Yet today, Rebecca had taken the initiative. to pick up her brush and paint him. It felt as if the wish he had held three years ago had finally come true in this moment.
His Beckie had finally regained the ability to love.
Grant pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Beckie, thank you for telling me that you came back for me.”
Every day, Rebecca would sit in her studio, painting and when she grew tired, she‘ d gaze out the window at the scenery.
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The servants often called for her, whether to try on her wedding dress, finalize the wedding details, or confirm the guest list.
Her days were always busy. But it was the evenings she looked forward to most. Because Grant would come home.
Since the last time they had an honest conversation, Grant had visibly become much happier. He would often surprise her with little gifts, almost as if by magic, pulling them out of his pockets.
“Today’s meeting was so boring, so I secretly folded this rose to give to you.
“When I walked by a store window, I saw this necklace right away and I thought you would love it.
“This is the first ray of sunlight I saw this morning. I thought it was so beautiful, so I took a picture to share it with you.”
Each time, Rebecca couldn’t help but smile, her lips curving up uncontrollably.
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So when the servant knocked on her door
today, her first thought was that Grant had come home early from work.
Excited, she eagerly opened the door to the studio–only to find a stranger standing
there.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Though it was also the first time Floyd had seen Rebecca, he instinctively felt a sense of discomfort at her unfamiliarity.
It seemed wrong for Rebecca to look so surprised.
But he hid his reaction behind a smile, replying calmly, “I’m Floyd, Floyd Stuart.”
Rebecca furrowed her brow, studying the man in front of her, whose features seemed worn with age. She asked, “May I ask what business you have with me?”
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