Chapter 8
1247words
We'd rented a villa with a private pool. Elisa lounged by the water in a crisp white bikini, sunglasses perched on her nose. Her newly cropped hair tousled by the sea breeze gave her a vibrant, carefree look.
On her knees rested an ultra-thin laptop, her fingers typing briskly on the keyboard. Over these six months, her company's performance had nearly doubled, and she had been appointed, to everyone's expectation, as the group's vice president.
I poked my head out of the cool pool water, shaking my dripping wet hair, splashing droplets onto her computer screen.
"Workaholic, can you give this little assistant a break? We are on vacation, Vice President Elisa." I leaned on the edge of the swimming pool, deliberately using an exaggerated tone to speak to her.
Elisa glanced at me through her sunglasses, her lips curving into an attractive arc, then briskly closed her laptop.
"Fine, as you wish." She removed her sunglasses and smiled at me, "From now on, my time belongs to you, Miss April."
At that moment, the sunlight, sea breeze, and the smile in her eyes composed the most beautiful scene I had ever seen. We finally emerged from that long and oppressive war into a real vacation.
At dusk, the setting sun dyed the entire sky a rich orange-red, waves gently lapped against the beach, bringing bursts of salty, humid breeze.
Elisa and I each occupied a beach chair, with chilled champagne placed on the small table in front of us.
I raised the glass in my hand, the clear yellow liquid glistening with enchanting luster in the sunset.
"To us," I looked at her and solemnly began, "the most handsome Avengers in history."
Elisa laughed at my words, raising her glass to clink gently with mine, making a crisp sound.
"Let's not mention revenge anymore," she took a small sip of champagne, her gaze turning toward the sun slowly sinking into the horizon in the distance, "that's all in the past now."
I gazed at her profile, her silhouette appearing especially soft in the glow of the sunset, that once tense sharpness between her brows had been replaced by a gentle calmness.
"Have you really let it go?" I asked seriously, this question more important than any celebration.
Elisa nodded slowly, her tone soft yet incredibly firm: "Yes, I've let it go."
She turned to look at me, her eyes astonishingly bright in the twilight.
"What I'm thinking about now is not what I've lost in the past," she said, "but rather what I can still gain in the future."
Hearing these words, the last bit of worry in my heart vanished like smoke, replaced by complete relief and emotion. I smiled and said to her: "You've really changed, Elisa."
"How have I changed?" she asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.
"You've become stronger, and gentler too," I said. No longer the kind of strength that constantly puts up sharp defenses for self-protection, but a kind of gentle power that radiates from within, capable of embracing everything.
She smiled, and this time, the smile reached her eyes, as pure as the sky at this moment.
The next morning, we went to an open-air café built by the sea, where tourists from all over the world sat in small groups under white parasols.
Elisa went to the counter to order, while I found a seat with the best view.
Just as I was looking down at my phone, I suddenly heard a small gasp from nearby, accompanied by the crisp sound of a cup shattering on the floor.
I looked up to see Elisa standing apologetically in front of a man, with a puddle of brown coffee and several pieces of white ceramic fragments on the ground. Evidently, she had accidentally bumped into him while turning around.
The man was dressed in a simple white shirt and linen pants, looking quite tall with a slender figure and a gentle, refined demeanor. He wasn't angry about this sudden accident; instead, he bent down, picked up one of the larger fragments, then looked at Elisa and said in a tone tinged with amusement, "It seems this cup of coffee was destined to meet you in this way."
His humor immediately relaxed Elisa's tense expression, and she couldn't help but laugh while apologizing and offering compensation.
The man waved his hand, signaling the waiter to come and clean up, then made an inviting gesture to Elisa: "How about buying me a new drink as compensation?"
And so, they began to chat.
I watched from a distance as the man spoke with humor, his gaze clear and forthright, consistently showing just the right amount of respect and appreciation. In his presence, Elisa was completely relaxed and cheerful, occasionally bursting into laughter at his jokes.
I learned that he was an architect, here on vacation and also looking for some design inspiration.
As he was leaving, he looked at Elisa with sincere eyes: "I really enjoyed our conversation today. May I have the honor of exchanging contact information with you?"
I saw Elisa hesitate very slightly for a second, not out of fear or resistance, but rather from careful consideration.
Then, meeting his gaze, she smiled and clearly said, "Yes."
Back at the villa, I immediately transformed into a gossip reporter, pestering Elisa for all the details about that man.
"What's his name? Where is he from? How old is he? Does he have a girlfriend?"
Elisa was both amused and exasperated by my questions, just smiling and shaking her head, refusing to say anything more, and walking directly up to the second-floor terrace.
The night had deepened, and the Maldivian sky was absurdly brilliant with stars; the Milky Way stretched across the horizon like a spilled band of diamonds.
Elisa stood alone on the balcony, the evening breeze gently ruffling her short hair, the silken nightgown she wore floating lightly in the wind.
I knew she needed some time alone.
She quietly gazed at the starry sky, her face showing no particular expression, but her eyes held an exceptionally distant look. I think perhaps she was remembering herself from half a year ago, crying and breaking down in her apartment, recalling those days and nights filled with anger, fear and pain, and how she had gritted her teeth and climbed out of that quagmire step by step, taking back everything that belonged to her with her own hands.
After a while, she took out her phone, her fingers silently sliding across the screen.
She opened her photo album and, without hesitation, permanently deleted all the photos of Damian and Kate that she had once encrypted and hidden, one by one. Then came the chat history—all those sweet lies and vicious curses were cleared away as well.
After finishing all this, she opened her phone's notes app and created a new note.
I couldn't see clearly what she typed, only that her fingers lingered on the screen for a moment before pressing save.
Later I found out that the memo read:
"November 24, 2024, I learned two things: First, never underestimate your own strength; Second, people worth loving are worth waiting for."
She put away her phone, looked up again, gazing at the deep and vast starry sky.
Then, I heard her say to herself in an extremely soft voice, yet filled with infinite hope:
"Future, here I come."
