Chapter 129
Joshua didn't give up on me.
He was still teaching me.
Even though I wasn't doing well enough, even though I'd disappointed him, he was still using his rigorous thinking and deep expertise to try to pull me back from the wrong track, pointing me toward a clearer, more efficient direction.
This refusal to abandon me beneath the strictness shook me more than any gentle comfort could, and made me feel even more ashamed.
I quickly moved closer, pushing aside all distractions, focusing completely on Joshua's explanation, my eyes fixed on every symbol and arrow under his pen.
The logic that had been a complete mess in my mind was like being precisely cut open by a sharp scalpel under his guidance, instantly becoming clear and suddenly making sense.
Without Joshua's timely and precise guidance on this project, I would likely have gone further and further down the wrong path, spending many times more time and energy trying to fix problems, possibly even leading to project failure in the end.
Now, he'd personally opened up my thinking and cleared away the fog.
I felt like I was back in school, in that state where a teacher's hint would make everything click and inspiration would burst forth.
I knew that refining the plan from here would go much more smoothly, and might even produce better results than expected.
Overwhelming gratitude and the joy of regaining direction made my eyes well up.
I blinked hard, forcing the tears back, and said to Joshua seriously and sincerely, "Professor, I understand now. Thank you so much. I'll go back and revise it right away following your approach!"
William, who'd been on edge the whole time, finally relaxed, his face showing a relieved smile.
Seeing the atmosphere ease, he immediately seized the opportunity, saying to Joshua with a smile, "Professor, look, it's already lunchtime. You've worked so hard guiding us—how about we don't leave and have lunch here? Grace and I will go buy groceries. What would you like to eat?"
Joshua glanced up at William, snorted, but didn't object—basically giving his approval.
William quickly pulled me along, said goodbye to Joshua, and slipped out to buy groceries.
Walking out the gate, the afternoon sunlight was a bit harsh.
William let out a long breath, turned to look at me, his eyes gentle, "You were really scared, weren't you? I saw your face go completely white just now."
I nodded, then shook my head, my feelings all mixed up, "Thank you. I really do want to keep the title of Professor Thomas's final and most important disciple. I don't want him to think he was wrong about me back then."
"Of course you can keep it," William smiled, his smile full of trust and encouragement, "Grace, if you really lost that title, I'd probably be angry too."
"What I want to see is the Nightingale who shone so brightly in competitions and amazed everyone, the Grace who stood at the top of the world, looked up to and envied by others. You have that ability—you just need a bit of time and the right opportunity to fly again."
I responded, my heart heavy but also drawing strength from William's words.
After thinking for a moment, I said quietly, "Actually, I also feel pretty bad about the other people on the team. Last time when I wasn't in good shape, I almost dragged down the project. I thought they'd have some complaints about me, and I didn't expect them to come help me with that global coding competition. But they all came anyway and were so supportive."
I looked up at William, my eyes serious, "Could you help me organize something sometime? I want to treat everyone to dinner, formally apologize, and thank them."
William agreed readily, "Sure, I'll handle it. When everyone's finished with their current projects and has some free time, I'll organize it. Don't worry, everyone on the team understands you and knows what you were going through. No one will refuse to come, and no one ever really blamed you."
He paused, looking at me, his eyes serious and his voice lower, "At the end of the day, it was that scumbag who ruined your life. That you've woken up, gotten back on your feet, and become yourself again—that's what we're all most happy about."
I laughed softly, the sound carrying both relief and a touch of bitterness, "Yes, I'm also grateful that I finally woke up."
I looked out at the street scenes flying past the window, sunlight streaming through the car window, casting dappled shadows on my lap, "And thank you all for your support and comfort. I won't keep dwelling on the past anymore. People have to look forward."
William nodded and didn't say anything more.
But I knew this friend had always been concerned about my personal life—or rather, concerned about whether I'd truly moved on from that failed marriage.
He was probably worried that someday I'd soften again, get confused, and go back to George.
But what he didn't know was that what kept me from ever going back wasn't just my cold despair toward George, or just my disgust with that marriage.
It was the memories from my past life.
It was Milly gradually losing warmth in my arms, those clear eyes closing forever—that heart-wrenching pain capable of destroying all will to live.
It was that kind of despair—watching your beloved child die because of your own stupidity and weakness, helpless to do anything, regretting it for life.
That pain was already deeply branded on my soul.
It was more unforgettable than any betrayal, any coldness—my inescapable nightmare in the middle of the night, and also the only force driving me to be strong, to stay clear-headed, to protect Milly well.
With those memories, how could I possibly go back?
Absolutely impossible.
After reorganizing the project according to Joshua's guidance and sorting out preliminary revision ideas, I checked the time—it was time to pick up Milly.
At the kindergarten entrance, children poured out like a flock of happy little birds.
Milly spotted me right away, ran over on her little legs, threw herself into my arms, her little face radiating pure joy, "Mommy, I missed you so much."
I picked her up and kissed her soft cheek, "Did you have fun at kindergarten today?"
"Yes!" Milly nodded vigorously, "The teacher taught us a new song today. I'll sing it for you!"
All the way home, Milly excitedly told me about kindergarten, her laughter driving away the last traces of gloom in my heart.
Watching her carefree manner, my heart filled with tenderness, and I became even more determined to give her the best of everything and never let her suffer again.
Taking advantage of Milly's good mood, I carefully chose my words and asked casually, "Milly, I remember your teacher mentioned something—isn't there some activity at kindergarten tomorrow where kids need to make crafts with their parents to bring in?"
Milly immediately nodded, saying sweetly, "Yes, the teacher said we need to make our best craft project and bring it to kindergarten tomorrow for an exhibition. They're even giving out awards."
"I see," I gently held her little hand, looking into her clear eyes, and decided to be honest, "Milly, tomorrow Mommy might need to do crafts with Jack too, because for certain reasons, he needs Mommy's help."
I carefully watched Milly's expression and cautiously added, "But Milly, if you don't want to, or if it makes you unhappy, Mommy won't bring him to our house. Mommy will figure out another way."
"Mommy will always consider Milly's feelings first in everything. Are you okay with this?"
I couldn't just ignore Milly.
In my heart, Milly's feelings always came first.
If this would make Milly feel uneasy or sad, I'd rather find some other, more troublesome way to deal with George.
After hearing my words, Milly didn't answer right away.
She lowered her head, her little fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes, seeming to think seriously.
After quite a while, she looked up, her little face very serious, like an adult, and said to me, "Mommy, I can do it, as long as Mommy loves me."
"I know Mommy must have her reasons for keeping Jack around. I might not understand, but I support Mommy."
She reached out her little hand and gently patted my arm, as if comforting me, "Mommy, don't be sad, and don't feel bad about me. I just need Mommy to be happy and to love me—that's enough."
Hearing my daughter's words, so mature and considerate beyond her years, my eyes instantly welled up.
An indescribable warmth and ache surged up together, making my throat tight, almost unable to speak.