Chapter 465 Chapter 465: She Love Me
The days were short in winter, and it got dark early, around 7:30 in the evening. The sky was overcast with thick clouds.
Cristofer sighed and said, “It’s a shame.”
Geoffrey asked, “What’s bothering you?”
“I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to see the stars tonight.”
Geoffrey tried to cheer him up, “Well, you might actually be in luck. The weather seems like it’s going to rain. The conditions are similar to the day when I hit you three years ago. Perhaps you’ll regain your memories after I hit you.”
Suddenly, thunder roared in the sky, and the wind picked up. The gusty wind threatened to snap tree branches along the road. Raindrops started falling, quickly turning into a heavy downpour.
Geoffrey whistled and said, “It seems like fate is on your side.”
At Cristofer’s feet, there were numerous cigarette butts, and he still held a wet cigarette between his fingers, which was now impossible to smoke.
With a determined smile, he tossed the cigarette aside, turned around, and began walking away. The darkness of the night enveloped him, dressed all in black. To see him clearly, Geoffrey switched on the car’s headlights. In the faint light, Cristofer stood about ten meters ahead with his eyes closed.
Due to his injured left arm, Cristofer could only use one arm and waited calmly for Geoffrey to hit him.
“Let’s do this!” he yelled. His voice was loud, but the raging storm muffled it.
Gritting his teeth, Geoffrey started the car and reversed it to create some distance for acceleration. He clenched the steering wheel tightly and floored the accelerator. The engine roared, and the black car shot forward like a swift panther in the darkness.
The car accelerated rapidly, and there was a loud crash before Geoffrey could react. He immediately slammed on the brakes with all his strength, but the wet road made it hard to stop. The car skidded for several dozen meters before finally coming to a halt.
Geoffrey’s hands trembled as he stopped the car. The impact of hitting Cristofer had shaken the vehicle violently, filling him with panic. Without hesitation, he flung open the car door and stumbled out into the pouring rain, clutching his cane.
“Cristofer... Cristofer?”
The headlights were off, plunging Geoffrey into darkness. He couldn’t see anything clearly, including Cristofer. Rain soaked him quickly.
“Cristofer! Don’t blame me. You asked me to do this! I was helping you regain your memory!” Geoffrey’s voice trembled as he shouted, “I have the disclaimer. I’m innocent!”
But there was no response.
Fear gripped Geoffrey as the darkness intensified. Frantically, he struggled to find Cristofer on the rain-soaked road. His cane brushed something on the ground, almost causing him to trip. He squatted down, his hands coming into contact with a mixture of rain and warm, sticky blood. The metallic scent of blood filled the air.
“Cristofer? Cristofer?” he called out.
Silence.
“Cristofer? Say something!”
“Ah...” Cristofer groaned in pain.
Relieved to hear his voice, Geoffrey let out a sigh and said, “Thank goodness you’re still alive. If you were dead, I’d be a murderer. Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?”
“...No, thanks,” Cristofer replied weakly.
“The rain is pouring down heavily.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“...Yes. I won’t die,” Cristofer assured him. “Could you do me a favor?”
“What do you need?” Geoffrey swiftly asked.
“...Help me stand up and walk to my motorcycle,” Cristofer requested.
Geoffrey scrutinized Cristofer and noticed that his eyes, though filled with pain and sorrow, gleamed surprisingly bright in the darkness.
“Are you sure you want to ride your motorcycle in such a condition?” Geoffrey asked in disbelief.
“I’m going home,” Cristofer replied with a smile, “Estelle is waiting for me. She’s most afraid of thunder. I need to go back and keep her company.”
After a long pause, Geoffrey finally said, “... You’re really a hopeless case.”
“Mr. Field, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll sign the property transfer agreement and arrange for it to be sent to you.”
Geoffrey looked at him in surprise upon hearing this.
“No matter how many unhappy things have happened between us in the past, I’m grateful to you for helping me today,” Cristofer said.
“Have you... Have you remembered everything?” Geoffrey asked, shocked.
Without directly answering his question, Cristofer closed his eyes and let the rain wash away the blood from his body. He then took a deep breath and asked, “What time is it now?”
“It’s around eight o’clock,” Geoffrey replied.
“It’s not too late.”
“What?” Geoffrey was puzzled.
Soaked to the bone, Cristofer struggled to get up from the ground, swaying with dizziness. It took him a moment to regain his balance. He glanced around, his focus landing on his motorcycle not far away.
With a shaky smile, he began to make his way toward it, each step a struggle. His legs seemed to be in worse shape than Geoffrey’s injured one.
“It’s eight o’clock... still open...” he muttered to himself as he moved.
“What’s still open?” Geoffrey asked, following Cristofer.
“The bridal shop,” Cristofer replied, finally reaching his motorcycle. Weakened, he lost his balance and bumped into it, causing the plaster on his left arm to break, with pieces falling to the ground.
He clutched the motorcycle’s handle and tried straddling it with his trembling hand. He lacked the strength even to start the engine. Geoffrey, standing nearby, watched him with a furrowed brow, his mind racing.
After several attempts, Cristofer finally managed to start the engine. He grinned with childlike delight and spoke, “We had a wedding once under the Malus Halliana tree. She wore the floral dress I got her as a wedding gown, and my shirt as her veil... She’s my princess. I’ll get her a beautiful wedding dress.”
No one replied, but Cristofer didn’t seem to notice. He continued to murmur happily.
“She loves me. She loves me so much. She’s willing to marry me...” he said, then rode off on the motorcycle. Along the way to the bridal shop, he fell. Ignoring the pain, he climbed back on the bike, restarted the engine, and continued toward his destination.
It was 9 o’clock at night in the Hans’ Residence; Eva stood by the bedroom window on the second floor, gazing at the heavy rain outside.
“Mrs. Hans, should we leave now?” she asked.
Looking at two suitcases in the corner, Estelle hesitated momentarily and replied, “Let’s wait a bit longer.”
“It’s already 9 o’clock, and it’s quite dark outside,” Eva gently reminded her.
Estelle acknowledged, “I know, but there’s no rush.”
Eva scratched her head and sat down beside Estelle, asking, “Are you waiting for Mr. Hans?”
Estelle quickly denied, “No, I’m not. Didn’t he say he wouldn’t be back tonight? I’m not waiting for him.”
“But we finished packing around 6 o’clock. You’ve been sitting here for over three hours.”