I shook my head. "Liam, we've wasted five years."

My voice was soft. "But I still can't get past it right now. I need time."

He squatted in front of me, looking up at me.

"I'll wait for you. I'll wait as long as it takes."

I reached out and touched his hair.

His hair was coarse and prickly to the touch.

Just like five years ago, nothing had changed.

"Your mother said a good child doesn't necessarily make a good wife," I said. "I don't know if I can be a good wife. But I do know that I don't want to run away anymore."

His eyes welled up with moisture.

"Liam, let's go back," I said. "Back to Linwood."

Outside the window, the rain in Bergen had stopped at some point.

Seagulls were flying over the sea, their cries intermittent, as if they were saying goodbye to someone.

He looked up at me, not acting impatiently, not saying "okay."

He just said softly: "Are you ready? You don't have to force yourself for my sake."

"I'm done running," I said softly, as if speaking to myself. "Five years of running is enough."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

I turned to look at him. "I'm sure. Whatever has to be faced, must be faced eventually."

He nodded. There was no cheering, no expression of relief.

He just walked over and started helping me pack my luggage.

I didn't have many things: a few clothes, a few books, one photo, and one scarf.

He folded my clothes and placed them into the suitcase, his movements very careful.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching his back, and suddenly felt a lump in my throat.

When I arrived, I thought I would live here for a very, very long time.

Maybe I wouldn't return to my home country for the rest of my life. But now, I was leaving.

It wasn't running away again; it was going back.

Before boarding the plane, I sent an email to the hospital saying that my volunteer work ended here, and thanking them for their care.

Less than a minute after the email was sent, the head nurse's reply came—"We will miss you, Su. Good luck."

I turned off my phone and leaned back in my seat.

Liam sat next to me, holding my hand just like he did years ago.

Looking at our hands clasped together, he suddenly smiled.

"You know, when I happened to run into you on the plane back to Linwood, I had to use so much self-restraint to keep from subconsciously taking your hand."

My eyes blinked, and I tightened my grip on his hand in response.

Chapter 17

When the plane took off, I closed my eyes.

Bergen was getting further and further away—the rainy city, that small apartment, and that photo on the bookshelf.

I don't know if I will ever return, but I know I will never forget this place.

I came here to heal, and while the wounds haven't completely healed yet, I can carry them with me as I leave.

Because the one who saved me has come to take me home.

When I woke up, I found myself leaning on Liam's shoulder.

I didn't know when I had fallen asleep, nor how long I had slept.

The clouds outside the porthole were thick, and the sunlight leaked through the gaps, turning golden.

He hadn't slept; he had been watching me the whole time.

"What are you looking at?" I asked, my voice still husky from sleep.

"I was afraid you would disappear," he said.

I was stunned for a moment.

His hand held mine, his thumb gently rubbing the back of my hand.

"I'm not joking; I was truly afraid."

"Five years ago, the day before we were supposed to register our marriage, you were still planning our honeymoon with me, but you didn't show up the next day."

"When I went to look for you after my anger subsided, you had vanished without a trace. And I listened to those rumors, forbidding anyone from ever mentioning your name again. I was too stupid back then. This time, I was afraid you would disappear again."

"I won't disappear," I said.

He didn't speak, just held my hand a little tighter.

Ten plus hours, the distance across an entire ocean.

I felt a bit sentimental: "If I had run that far the first time, maybe everything would be different."

Liam squeezed my hand, not hard, but his expression was quite aggrieved.

I smiled: "But didn't you find me anyway?"

When the plane landed in Linwood, it was evening.

The sunset dyed the entire airport orange-red, casting long shadows on the ground.

I looked out the window and took a deep breath.

Linwood, I'm back.

The state of mind this time was completely different from the last time I returned.

The things inside me—the wounds, the scars, and the things that could never grow back—had all begun to heal.

Those events and those people could no longer serve as weapons to hurt me.

"Are you afraid?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Not when you're by my side."

I held his hand; my fingertips felt a little cold.

"Let's go," I said. "Accompany me to a place."

He asked: "Where?"

I looked at the sky and said lightly: "The detention center."

Before returning to the country, he had told me he had sent Su Wanqing back inside.

He glanced at me, not asking why.

We got into the car, and he gave the address to the driver; the car turned onto that road in the suburbs.

I leaned against the car window, watching the white clouds scattering bit by bit outside.

I didn't know if Su Wanqing would cry when she saw me, or what she would say.

I didn't even know why I wanted to go see her.

Perhaps I wanted an apology; perhaps not.

Perhaps I just wanted to see her—to see what that person, who once braided my hair and covered my eyes saying "Your sister is here," would become after going back in.

The taxi stopped at the entrance of the detention center.

The iron gate was tall, and there was an electric fence on the wall.

I stood at the gate, clutching the fringe of that red scarf.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" he asked.

"No. I'll go alone."

I let go of his hand and walked in.

The iron gate behind me closed slowly, making a dull thud.

Liam leaned against the car, lit a cigarette, but didn't smoke it.

He just watched that closed gate, waiting for me to come out.

The sky grew dark bit by bit, the cigarette burned between his fingers, and the ash fell off bit by bit.

He didn't know what I was facing, nor if I could handle it.

But I was inside. He would not leave.

Chapter 18

The visiting room was small, with only a table, a pane of glass, and two microphones.

I sat on the chair and waited.

There was a clock on the wall; the second hand ticked away, one by one. The sound was quiet, but it seemed exceptionally clear in the empty room.

The door opened.

Su Wanqing was wearing a prison uniform, her hair cut short and sticking to her ears in dry, yellow wisps.

She had lost a lot of weight, even more than before I went abroad.

Her cheekbones protruded, her eye sockets were sunken, and there was no trace left of the woman from five years ago who wore a white wedding dress and smiled at me saying, "Clara, your sister finally has a home."

She saw me and froze for a moment, then picked up the microphone.

I picked up my microphone as well.

"Are you satisfied?" her voice came through the microphone with the static of electricity. "You sent me back in again."

I didn't speak, just looked at Su Wanqing on the other side of the glass, feeling she was a stranger.

When I was little, this person would block all the wind and rain for me; now, this person was the one creating the storm.

I said: "I heard Zhou Cheng's sentence was reduced. Before he gets out, I've resubmitted the evidence of his crimes; he'll have to sit for another dozen years."

She slapped the glass hard: "Bitch."

She then cowered under the guard's scolding.

I wasn't frightened; my voice remained steady.

"As for you, as long as you don't go after Liam, nothing will happen. This time, you sent yourself in."

Her eyes widened, and she finally became afraid: "Sister! Please beg him for me! I am your sister!"

Her fingernails scraped against the glass, making a harsh sound.

The guard next to her walked over and pressed down on her shoulders.

She struggled for a moment but couldn't break free; tears streamed down her cheeks, sticking the dry, yellow hair to her face.