Chapter 162 Life Is Theatre Everywhere
Chapter 162 Life Is Theatre Everywhere
Stephanie's POV
I shook my head and turned to Christopher. "Not really."
He didn't press further, just gently squeezed my hand.
The four of us walked forward in silence.
After a long while, I asked, "That run-in with her just now—did you arrange that too?"
Christopher smiled and shook his head.
"Stephanie, I'm not that omnipotent," he said.
"I didn't even know when she got out of prison. If I'd known in advance, I definitely would've staged something way more dramatic—something that would've let you really get even."
I laughed. "What, you think this is some kind of movie?"
"Life is a movie. Most drama is inspired by real life anyway." Christopher tightened his grip on my hand again.
His light teasing slowly untangled the knot in my chest, and my mood lifted.
I swung our clasped hands gently. "Christopher, I don't have any regrets left now."
"Good."
We slowly made our way back to where we'd parked. Emily and Rufus walked ahead of us, close together, occasionally exchanging a few words that were quickly carried off by the night breeze.
It suddenly struck me—this kind of ordinary, everyday moment was the best kind of life.
No dramatic twists. No heart-stopping ordeals. No need for tear-jerking surprises or grand romantic gestures.
Just simple and steady, with the people you love by your side. That was enough.
---
We stayed in the small coastal town for two more days.
Emily seemed determined to burn through every ounce of pent-up energy. Every morning, she'd knock on our door at the crack of dawn, dragging us out to cover every coastal route she'd pre-marked on her map.
The lighthouse, the pier, the old market, the ice cream shop on the corner, the rocky beach exposed at low tide—she refused to miss a single spot.
At each location, she'd go on a photo spree, snapping at least twenty pictures per place. Before long, her new phone's storage was completely maxed out.
When her phone started lagging, she looked genuinely puzzled, unable to understand why a brand-new phone would be so slow.
Rufus laughed so hard he could barely stand. "Emily, any phone would die trying to keep up with your shooting spree. My camera's memory card got full ages ago. Good thing I brought my laptop to back everything up on the go, or it would've—"
He suddenly raised his voice dramatically.
Emily screamed and ducked behind me.
Only then did Rufus finish with a grin. "—crashed a long time ago."
"You scared me!" Emily charged at him, fuming. "What am I, a little kid? Stop right there—I'm gonna get you for that!"
Rufus took off running, Emily hot on his heels. Passersby turned to stare. Christopher and I stood side by side, watching them chase each other down the street, shaking our heads with helpless smiles.
---
On the third evening, we sat on the beach waiting for the sunset. For once, Emily was quiet.
She rested her phone on her knees, gazing out at the ocean, its surface painted deep orange by the fading light.
After a long silence, she murmured, "This place is really something."
"If you like it, we can stay a few more days," I said.
She shook her head. "No, we've got things to do. Your art show needs to get started."
I blinked.
So much had happened recently that I'd almost forgotten about the exhibition.
It was a plan I'd made before graduation—back when I was still in Harborcrest, the art show had been one of the few things that felt like it was truly mine.
But along the way, Yasmin's truth, the secrets of the old house, the orphanage's past—all of it had consumed my thoughts, pushing the exhibition to the furthest corner of my mind. Now that Emily brought it up, it felt like an old friend I hadn't seen in ages, gently knocking at my door.
"You're right." I snapped back. "I'll start planning as soon as we get back."
---
On the fourth morning, we checked out and drove back along the coastal highway.
We stayed overnight in Aetheria, then caught a connecting flight back to Averton City.
The evening sky over Averton City was the familiar gray-blue, the skyline dotted with high-rises and streams of traffic.
Life is full of scenery—Harborcrest's blue seas and clear skies, Averton City's bustling lights and energy.
I thought: Christopher and I, along with my friends, would visit many more places in the future.
---
The day after we returned to Averton City, I spent almost every spare moment in my studio.
Emily dropped by every few days to help, always bringing two cups of coffee or a batch of cookies she'd just learned to make.
Unfortunately, most of her cookies turned out strange—hard as rocks and oddly colored.
Christopher rented a small gallery for me in the city center. Rufus got roped into hauling frames and hanging pieces twice.
Every evening after work, Christopher would poke his head into the studio, ask, "How much did you get done today?" then head to the kitchen to start dinner.
I eventually selected around twenty pieces—most created around the time of my graduation, with a few painted during our stay in Harborcrest.
The view from the old house's window. The lighthouse by the sea. The winding path at the cemetery entrance, bent by the wind.
When I laid them all out together, I realized they were invisibly connected—like a thread stretching from Averton City to Harborcrest's coast, then looping back, finally settling onto each canvas.
Christopher was right. Drama comes from life. So does art.
I thought: if this exhibition went well, I wanted to keep having them.
I wanted to share the beauty of the world with every visitor, share my joys and sorrows, and share everything I'd gained and lost along the way.
---
The opening was scheduled for two weeks out, on a weekend.
I wasn't sure how many people would come. Emily took the initiative to design an electronic invitation and sent it to everyone in her contact list.
I also emailed a few of my college professors and classmates.
Christopher said he had quite a few friends who wanted to come, so I told him to handle the arrangements himself.
---
Three days before the opening, I was in the studio organizing the last batch of paintings when there was a soft knock at the door.
Assuming it was Christopher coming home early, I didn't even look up. "Come in, it's unlocked."
The door cracked open. Light footsteps crossed the wooden floor, then stopped.
"Stephanie." A gentle woman's voice called out softly.