Chapter 125
The Moment That Will Not Return
“Miss Blanchett.”
Olivia, lost in deep thought, slowly lifted her head at the soft whisper. It was Maurice.
Startled by someone entering without her noticing, she released Johan’s hand and collected herself. Olivia stood up.
“You’re here.”
“And the director… is she not here yet?”
Olivia nodded weakly. Maurice’s gaze passed over her shoulder and landed on Johan.
“What happened with the incident?”
Maurice’s voice lowered, his face grim.
“We couldn’t find any trace of it.”
“Ah…” Olivia let out a short sigh.
The back alleys of Litton Harbor were as grimy and sinister as usual. There was no sign of the tragedy from last night anywhere.
Maurice had also informed her that the handbag Olivia had lost could not be found.
The early morning announcement from the Litton Police Department stated that the night of gunfire had been part of an operation to purge opium smugglers.
It was a truly despairing reality.
“Let’s switch. I’ll stay here. Go get some rest.” Maurice said, his expression full of concern.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ll collapse if you keep this up.”
“Really, I’m fine. You, Maurice, are the one who needs rest.”
Olivia turned her gaze to Johan, silently conveying her determination.
The morning sunlight, streaming in past the curtains, illuminated Johan. The clear sunlight, devoid of the blue dawn’s hue, was as pale as his complexion.
Maurice let out a small sigh and stepped back.
Olivia lifted the glass cover of the bedside lamp and blew out the candle.
Sitting back down, she carefully brushed Johan’s hair, matted with sweat and blood. He looked peaceful, as if in a deep sleep.
Suddenly, memories of the first day she met him surfaced.
How her heart had trembled, fearing her identity would be discovered. When she mentioned the divorce, she couldn’t even meet his eyes.
Yet, she understood now why Olivia Blanchett had fallen in love at first sight.
She wrapped a wet cloth, prepared by a nurse, around her fingers and wiped the bloodstains from Johan’s perfectly shaped forehead.
“Time to wake up now.”
Her fingertips traced down from the blood on his thick eyebrows toward his smooth cheek—when suddenly, there was a commotion outside the room.
It was clearly Maurice’s voice. Olivia froze mid-motion, and at that moment, the door swung open.
“D-Director must rest now, Grand Matron!”
“Can’t you hear me telling you to step aside?!”
Even as they crossed the threshold, the two continued their struggle. Despite the harsh command, Maurice made futile gestures to stop Margaret Wellington.
Seeing this, Olivia struggled to her feet.
The Grand Matron, having traversed the entire room, stopped in front of her. Her cold, hostile gaze seemed to pierce Olivia—but in the next instant, her head swung sharply.
Olivia, utterly exhausted, staggered weakly.
“G-Grand Matron!” Maurice called, supporting her, momentarily forgetting they were in a hospital.
A vivid red handprint appeared on Olivia’s previously pale cheek.
“You stay outside.” Margaret said coldly.
Olivia raised her lowered eyes to glance at Maurice. Reading her signal to step aside, he reluctantly withdrew.
“You… you’ve driven Johan to the brink… at all costs.”
The woman who had always been upright and composed, never losing her dignity, was nowhere to be seen. She wanted to believe it was a lie.
But seeing Johan lying motionless on the bed, she could no longer remain sane.
Until the maid had shaken her awake, until she had rushed by carriage to the Britt Royal Hospital, she had not expected things to reach this state.
“His bleeding was severe… there was nothing else we could do. My apologies, Grand Matron Wellington.”
Hearing the surgeon declare Johan’s critical condition, her legs felt as if they had collapsed beneath her. She couldn’t remember how she had even gotten to the hospital.
In her mind, only her daughter’s final words echoed:
“Mom, please… protect my poor Johan.”
“How dare you. Who do you think you are…”
“….”
“Leave at once. Go far away and never appear before us again.”
Margaret’s gaze, fixed on Olivia, betrayed anger, contempt, and regret.
“…I only wanted to see him regain consciousness—”
Before Olivia could finish, Margaret slapped her across the face.
“Go while you still can walk on your own, before I deal with you myself.”
Olivia lowered her unfocused eyes.
“…Let’s go, Olivia.”
She quietly left the hospital room. Walking down the corridor in exhaustion, she held onto the windowsill for support.
Only then did the deep sigh she had been holding escape. Olivia closed her eyes tightly, feeling the heat behind them.
Please… save him.
She prayed.
I’m sorry… I couldn’t keep my promise.
Olivia exhaled slowly, steadying her overwhelming emotions.
Let’s go.
Her resolve firm, she opened her eyes.
A man stood before the small hospital fountain bathed in the calm morning sun. Like that early summer day when he had come to confront Evangeline Seymour, Edgar gazed up at the place.
On a bright autumn morning, the hospital’s grounds were quiet and serene.
Olivia sat on a bench in front of a cornflower bed, overlooking Johan’s hospital room window.
“Are you alright?” Edgar broke the silence just as the small fountain began to spray water.
Olivia, staring blankly at the firmly closed glass window, shifted her gaze to him. Their eyes met.
“He still hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“No, I meant… you, Olivia.”
Edgar’s words finally made her notice herself.
Her disheveled hair, clothes, and shoes were stained dark red with Johan’s blood. She roughly tidied her hair and replied,
“…I’m fine.”
She felt almost embarrassingly intact. Had she been seriously injured, perhaps she would have earned the Grand Matron Wellington’s sympathy.
A faint, bitter smile crossed Olivia’s face as she imagined the meaningless scenario.
“You don’t look fine to me at all.”
Edgar casually reached out and touched her cheek. Startled, Olivia instinctively pulled back. His hand was cold.
“How can I earn your forgiveness?”
In a situation where someone was fighting for their life, Olivia was taken aback by such an unrelated question. Yet she thought it perfectly suited this man. She was glad she could let go cleanly.
“…Do nothing.”
As if he had expected this, he smiled under the bright sunlight.
The smile was still beautiful enough to catch the eye, yet it no longer made her heart race.
“But what should I do? I still like you.”
“….”
The restrained words were carried away by the clear breeze, leaving silence.
Edgar quietly watched Olivia. His blue eyes, lined with fine veins, were filled with her—but no longer with desire. No resentment, no anger, not even a shred of affection remained. Her heart ached.
“Maybe with time, I could forgive you.”
Feeling his gaze, Olivia looked at the cornflower bed behind him and spoke calmly.
“But I don’t think I could ever love you again.”
Her quiet voice lingered in the transparent air.
It was a perfect ending—truly a brutally honest woman.
“You’ll need my help, though.”
Realizing what he meant, Olivia let out a short, sharp exhale. She suddenly remembered the handbag she had completely forgotten: her ID, passport, and bank guarantee—everything.
Olivia, deep in thought, lifted her eyes from the white fountain to Edgar.
“That day… I won the bet, didn’t I?”
“….”
Recalling the memory, Edgar let out a brief laugh. It was refreshing yet hollow, like the autumn breeze scattering the fountain’s white spray.
“Ah! A lady with such a remarkable memory.”
The day before the finals, he had gone to see Olivia practicing at the Dumblin Club. He wanted to see her in her white tennis outfit under the blazing sun.
“Just for fun. One set. Shall we bet?”
It was he who boldly proposed—and she had lost.
That summer had been filled with such days. You may want to erase them, but I will never forget—the brightest, most dazzling, eternal summer sun.
“Tell me your wish.”
“Vouch for me one more time. This time, without conditions… if your feelings for me were ever truly sincere even for a moment.”
Standing with his back to the sun, his expression was hard to read. Olivia thought that, like the first time they met at Grand Bleu, his final smile would remain unchanged.
Edgar watched the woman sitting demurely in his shadow for a long while.
If he had won that day… he would have used any excuse to hold onto her. Would she have stayed by his side, Olivia?
Autumn sunlight broke through sharply.
Even in a moment that would never return, the woman in the shadow cast by the light was achingly beautiful. Her heart ached again.
Edgar nodded once. A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
It was an eternal farewell.
