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News came that Lily's artwork had won consecutive awards. I was watering a pot of sunflowers when I heard.
She had grown so tall, her smile brighter than ever before.
Watching her focused expression before the canvas, I often remembered that blood-soaked night.
Liam was still the same, quietly standing by our side. He never rushed anything.
Days like these brought me inner peace, and I began to reexamine my own feelings.
Perhaps it was time to give each other an answer.
One day, Lily returned from an art exhibition looking distracted.
She stood before me, hesitating for a long time before speaking. "Mommy, I saw a painting at the exhibition."
"What painting?"
"Quiet Night Thoughts, signed 'From the collection of Alexander Pierce'," she said softly. "It reminded me of some things."
The watering pot in my hand nearly fell.
That name was like a needle, instantly piercing our peaceful life.
"Mommy, can you tell me about my father?"
I looked into my daughter's clear eyes, my heart mixed with emotions.
For years, I had tried to make her forget that dark past, but blood ties cannot be erased.
I calmly sat down and recounted those past events.
I didn't exaggerate or deliberately beautify anything—just stated the facts.
Lily was silent for a long time after hearing it.
"Mommy, I want to go see him."
My heart tightened sharply.
After all these years, I thought I had completely let go, but the moment I heard those words, waves still rose inside.
Liam accompanied Lily to the remote mountain village where Alexander was living in seclusion.
When they returned, tears were welling in Lily's eyes.
"Mommy, I saw him," her voice trembled. "He's so old, so thin—nothing like I remember."
I waited for her to continue.
"I didn't approach him. I just watched from afar. He was painting for a group of children, his hands shaking."
Lily took out a painting of sunflowers from her bag. "I left this at his doorstep."
"Why sunflowers?"
"Because sunflowers always face the sun. They represent hope."
She looked deeply at me. "But I don't need his hope. I have you, I have Uncle Liam. That's enough."
In that moment, I felt the strength within my daughter.
She wasn't bound by hatred or kidnapped by blood ties. Instead, she chose forgiveness. She chose to let go.
Liam told me that after Alexander discovered the painting, he stood at his doorstep for a long time, tears streaming down his face.
"He knew Lily had been there," Liam said softly. "He said many things to that painting—all apologies."
After hearing it, I felt no ripples in my heart.
That once high-and-mighty man was now living a lonely life in poverty and illness. Perhaps this was the ending he deserved.
But I would no longer hate him, because hatred only binds oneself.
Lily's choice showed me true growth. She dissolved past pain with tolerance and illuminated the future path with hope.
And I, too, needed to make a choice for my own happiness.
That night, I actively took Liam's hand.
He was stunned for a moment, then gripped it tightly.
"Evelyn, I've waited a long time."
"I know. Thank you for your patience."
Our feelings were like aged wine—richer with time.
No dramatic love declarations, just deep affection and understanding沉淀by years.
Lily saw us holding hands and laughed happily. "Mommy, you're finally together!"
Yes, we were finally together.
The pain of the past had become history. Now, we just needed to cherish the happiness before us.
