Chapter10
Bianca Sterling insisted on cutting off all of Julian Lancaster’s contact with the outside world.
So the two of them left their electronics behind at the base of the mountain and spent each day in
quiet seclusion, following the rhythm of the monastery, morning mass bells and evening hymns,
with the novice monks.
Julian even commissioned a set of blessed rosary beads for Bianca and placed them daily on the
altar table inside the chapel, letting the rising incense surround them.
The hearts of those in the chapel were calm and pure, and the mountain scenery was serene and
still.
Yet in the middle of all that peace, Julian felt a constant undercurrent of unease.
Something inside him kept urging him to go back.
But go back for what? He had no answer.
He kept the agitation buried deep beneath a warm and attentive exterior.
When Bianca wanted to see the first wild plum blossoms behind the chapel, he broke off a dry
branch to make her a walking stick.
When she found the monastery meals too bland, he snuck an extra spoonful of herb–infused olive
oil into her bowl under the pretense of helping in the kitchen.
Then one day, in the quiet forest behind the chapel, they stumbled upon a moss–covered prayer
monument.
A young novice passing by pressed his palms together and explained gently, “Those with sincere
wishes often come here. Besides offering incense, many touch the engraved blessings on the
monument that align with their hopes.”
Bianca’s
eyes lit up.
“Does it work?”
“Only if the heart is sincere.”
Without hesitation, she grabbed Julian’s hand and pressed his palm against the engraved word
Faith, lacing her fingers over his.
Her lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, trembling slightly:
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…
“I pray that Julian and I may fulfill our bond, love everlasting, for a lifetime.”
Julian smiled softly, lips curved with gentle warmth, but his eyes were void of light.
Instead, a strange hollowness tugged at his chest, an ache that spread through his veins.
It had been happening more frequently, this tightness, this inexplicable restlessness.
Sometimes, it overwhelmed him.
He began walking deeper into the mountain woods alone, only returning once the storm inside him passed and his expression could settle back into calm.
One evening, he found himself back at the monument.
Absentmindedly, his fingers stopped on a different engraved word: Grace.
He stood there, stroking the stone for a long time before realizing what he was doing.
That emptiness, it came from Charlotte.
His breath caught.
He yanked his hand back, almost in panic.
Why her?
Desperate, he forced himself to recall every “unforgivable” thing she had done:
Throwing away Bianca’s engagement ring.
Setting fire to his house. Scheming to tear them apart…
But the clearer the memories became, the more that emptiness roared inside him.
The voice urging him to go back grew deafening.
It felt like if he didn’t descend the mountain now, he’d lose something he’d regret for the rest of his
life.
“Mr. Lancaster, the blessing ceremony is ready,” a novice called softly.
Julian blinked, jolted back.
Today, they were to complete the final step of the blessing: the one offering the prayer had to hang
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the protection pendant containing the rosary beads atop the cliffside cross.
“I’ll come back safely,” he said, patting Bianca’s shoulder reassuringly.
But his gaze drifted unconsciously to the stream behind her.
Floating in the current were a few lanterns from the candlelight vigil last night.
Though the flames had long gone out, the Hydrangea–shaped candles still shimmered faintly in the
sun.
A sharp jolt hit his chest.
The sense of familiarity surged so violently he couldn’t trace it, just bit down harder on the
pendant, forced the feeling down, and followed the monastery’s tradition.
He checked the safety harness at his waist, gripped the wet cliff face, and began the climb by hand.
At ten meters, he could still hear Bianca’s tearful voice calling after him.
At fifty, the wind swallowed every sound.
At a hundred, the past shattered open,
“Mr. Lancaster used to do all this for Miss Charlotte,” an old housekeeper had once said. “He’d fill
the whole yard with wisteria, lightened thousands of candles… it took us days to clean up
afterward.”
He hadn’t paid much attention then.
But now, every word rang clear as day.
At two hundred meters, his hands began to bleed against the rock.
Then another memory pierced through,
“Did you ever… think of me as more than a sister?”
Charlotte’s voice, trembling.
What had he said back then?
He’d turned away coldly: “You know the answer.”
But now, suspended midair, he realized the truth he never spoke aloud had already burned itself
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…
into his bones.
Finally, he reached the summit.
He exhaled shakily and tied the protection pendant carefully to the ancient pine beside the cross.
But just as he turned to descend, the rope around his waist snapped with a sickening crack.
Gravity yanked him down like a severed kite.
The reservoir’s dark green surface swallowed him whole.
The moment the cold hit, just before everything blurred, he caught sight of the Hydrangea–shaped
candles.
And then,
Memories exploded.
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A dusky evening sky, thousands of candles lighting up the girl’s tearful eyes, and the river glowing with candles like a galaxy spilled across the water.
“You always said your birthday came too early to see the moon,” she had cried.
“So what if there’s no moon? I’ll give you a whole river of stars.”
He had reached up to wipe her tears,
And that warmth had seared his soul.
Now, sinking, he wasn’t fighting to breathe.
He was clawing through the murky veil, desperate to see her face.
His brain throbbed like needles stabbing at once, but he clung to that last thread of clarity.
Finally, just before losing consciousness, he saw her.
Tearful eyes, smiling through the pain.
Charlotte.
“Charlotte…”
He whispered her name as the water closed in, and with it, every memory he’d ever buried came
Chapter10
