Chapter 299 Finally Got Him at Last
"Alexander..."
Caroline lifted her hand and covered her eyes with the back of it, but tears still kept falling, drop by drop landing on the back of Alexander's hand that was holding her wrist. His heart suddenly clenched, caught completely off guard.
Alexander panicked all at once. He thought his confession had scared her.
Or maybe she just didn't believe that he liked her.
"I'm sorry, I... did I say something wrong? Don't cry, please don't cry..."
He wanted to reach up and wipe away her tears, but his movements were all over the place—he didn't even know where to put his hands.
Caroline shook her head hard, blinking repeatedly, trying to push back the tears. But that emotion still surged up like a tide, drowning her. She couldn't tell if it was joy, sadness, or just relief.
Looking at the panicked and helpless face of the boy in front of her, she suddenly understood that there was no act in his eyes—only genuine fear and love.
The wall she had spent over a decade building in her heart—that wall held up by endurance, loneliness, and self-denial—finally collapsed, exposing the softest part of her, the part that most longed to be seen, to the light.
"No..." she shook her head, her voice choked.
"You didn't say anything wrong... I... I just... can't believe it..."
She couldn't believe that this sudden, burning yet pure affection would actually fall on her.
She also couldn't believe that this person who once seemed as distant as another world, that boy whose eyes seemed to hold only Edith, would now be kneeling in front of her, telling her over and over again that he liked her, in an almost humble way.
She could hardly believe that this fragile, improbable peace had led them here, to a moment where they could finally answer each other.
Alexander's chest felt both sour and soft. He didn't explain anything more, just applied a little pressure with his hand, gently pulling her up from the chair. Then he opened his arms and carefully, almost solemnly, pulled her into his embrace.
Caroline's body stiffened for a moment, then, as if finally finding a place to land, she slowly relaxed. She buried her face in his warm chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and the tears flowed even harder.
She had finally waited for this moment.
Alexander held her quietly, like holding something fragile—not daring to hold too tight, not daring to let go. Everything around them seemed muted, as if the world contained only them, shoulder to shoulder, their breathing slowly falling into the same rhythm.
After a long while, Caroline's crying gradually stopped. Feeling a bit embarrassed, she pulled back slightly from his embrace.
"Don't look, it's ugly..." She turned her face away, not daring to meet Alexander's too-intense gaze. She mumbled softly, raising her hand to wipe her face.
Alexander moved first, using his fingertips to gently wipe away the tear tracks on her face.
"Not ugly," he lowered his voice, "very pretty."
Caroline's face turned even redder, and she nervously lowered her eyes.
After that night, something changed. A kind of unspoken understanding appeared between them, like a thin electric current continuously heating the air.
Alexander began taking on more responsibility for the place. He chopped wood more neatly, carried water more steadily, and became increasingly skilled at fixing the leaky roof.
Of course, he still messed up from time to time, drawing Caroline's helpless sighs.
But he knew Caroline wouldn't really blame him.
He started learning to cook, beginning with the simplest things like porridge and fried eggs. He often filled the kitchen with smoke and left the counter a complete mess. Caroline would cough and laugh at the same time, shooing him out before going in to clean up the disaster herself.
Occasionally, he could make a few dishes that looked okay and tasted decent. He'd present the plate to her like offering a treasure, nervously watching her take the first bite. When she said "not bad," his eyes would immediately light up.
Caroline smiled more and more, and became increasingly relaxed. She still didn't talk much, but that long-held cautious tension in her expression seemed to be gradually loosening.
She would smile with pursed lips when he clumsily helped out.
Her eyes would light up when he told stories about the past.
She would also lean on his shoulder on sunny afternoons, falling asleep without realizing it under the eaves. When she woke up, she'd often find Alexander's jacket covering her, while he sat beside her, quietly reading an old book he'd found at the market.
They tended the small vegetable patch together. Alexander made new farming tools, and Caroline somehow got more vegetable seeds. The tomatoes turned red, cucumbers climbed the vines, and lettuce grew bright green. When they harvested the first crop of vegetables, they were as excited as two children.
Alexander clumsily picked the biggest, reddest tomato, rinsed it under water, and held it to Caroline's mouth.
"Try it, we grew this ourselves."
Caroline took a bite, and the sweet and sour juice burst in her mouth. She squinted with satisfaction and nodded, "So sweet."
Then she picked one and handed it to him.
They stood by the vegetable patch, as if sharing a secret only they knew, taking turns eating that tomato that still carried the scent of earth.
At night, they often sat side by side under the eaves watching the stars. Alexander would point at the night sky, telling her where the Big Dipper was, where the Milky Way was. Caroline listened quietly, occasionally asking innocent questions.
Sometimes they said nothing at all, just sat side by side, their hands lightly touching at their sides. Alexander would work up the courage to hold her hand. At first Caroline would stiffen, then let him hold it, though her ears would quietly heat up in the darkness.
Once, Alexander found some smooth pebbles and colorful thin strings somewhere, and spent several evenings clumsily weaving a simple but unique bracelet. On a night with bright stars, he blushed as he put the bracelet on Caroline's wrist.
Caroline touched the cool stones on her wrist, head lowered, saying nothing for a long time, only her eyes quietly reddening again.
The next day, Alexander found a little rabbit charm sewn from fabric scraps by his pillow. He held that somewhat ugly but very cute rabbit for a long time, then solemnly attached it to his old backpack and never took it off.
The days flowed like a clean stream—quiet, but always moving forward. Alexander's addiction never returned, and his body grew stronger day by day.
He almost believed that those dark times had truly been left behind. Perhaps they could continue like this, in some corner forgotten by the world, holding onto this small piece of life, living simple but solid days.
He even began seriously planning their life after leaving.
He quietly contacted someone he trusted from before—an old servant who had long left the family and started his own life. He asked him to find a way to sneak into the Hamilton family estate, secretly retrieve a few small pieces of jewelry his mother had left behind, then somehow sell them to get a sum of money—not much, but enough to support their fresh start.