Chapter 34
She lowered her head, letting the steam rising from the bowl obscure her emotions. She
took another sip.
“It’s good.”
“I’m glad… I’m glad you like it.”
Ivan’s tightly pressed lips trembled slightly as he clenched his fists, turning his head to the
side.
After a long pause, he took a deep breath, picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks, and placed it in Linda’s bowl.
“Don’t just drink the soup–eat something.”
It was such a simple sentence, yet as Ivan spoke it, he felt a dull pain pulling at his ribs.
When the meal was over, silence stretched between them.
Finally, Ivan, trying to seem at ease, pushed against his knees and forced a smile.
He looked at Linda, unable to take his eyes off her.
“Linda, it’s getting dark. Let me walk you back.”
“Okay.”
Her response was soft, her head slightly lowered.
Standing up, she reached for her scarf to wrap it around her neck again.
Ivan naturally took it from her, his movements practiced and smooth as he helped her tie it
securely.
The space between them/was close–so close that Linda’s breath carried the familiar scent of their past.
15:25
Forsaking the Years of Longing
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Chapter 34
So close that Ivan could kiss her forehead just by leaning down slightly.
So close that a small step forward could bring them back into each other’s arms.
But despite the proximity, Ivan could only withdraw his hands after securing her scarf.
“Alright, let’s go.”
As they walked, their steps fell into an unspoken rhythm.
Not hurried, but neither deliberately slow to prolong their time together.
Each step brought them closer to the inevitable parting.
Ivan purposefully lagged half a step behind, his gaze fixed on Linda’s back.
The wind on the bridge was harsh.
Linda shivered slightly, burying half her face in her scarf.
She stopped, looking out over the pitch–black river below, and spoke softly.
“Ivan, why do you think the protagonists in novels drift apart? Is it because of their own choices, or the novelist’s merciless manipulation?”
The wind whipped Ivan’s hair, scattering it across his forehead.
He remained silent for a long moment before finally answering, his voice low.
“I don’t know.”
“I used to think it was all the plot’s doing, but then I realized that the plot is nothing more than a series of choices made by the characters themselves.”
“Just like how you once said you’d only ever love me, and then it became just… you loved
me.”
Linda’s
gaze
didn’t shift from the river as she asked, her voice calm, almost detached.
“Ivan, I’ve always wondered–did you ever truly love Katherine?”
