Chapter 280 This Time, Truly Happy
Chapter 280 This Time, Truly Happy
"Let them take some first. I'll wait." Brady put his hands behind his back and puffed out his little chest, looking very principled.
Jenna and Ethan sat down at the table.
"Let's eat." Ethan picked up his chopsticks and placed a piece of meat in Jenna's bowl.
Jenna took a bite, nodded, then picked up a piece for Brady. "Try it, you little foodie."
Brady's mouth was practically watering. He suddenly snapped back to attention and grinned widely. "Thank you, Great-grandma!"
He was in the middle of losing his baby teeth, with gaps where his two front teeth should be. When he smiled, everyone at the table burst out laughing.
Brady didn't know what the adults were laughing about, but seeing everyone laugh, he giggled along, his laughter whistling through the gaps.
Halfway through the meal, Jenna set down her utensils and asked Andy, "How has Uncle Mark been these past few years?"
"He's doing alright, same as always. Still living alone, raising three cats. Posts pictures of them on social media every day." Andy picked up a piece of bamboo shoot and paused.
"He said they're all rescue cats. One's an orange tabby, really fat, named Milk Tea. The other two are called Cola and Sprite. He said Dad used to love those drinks."
He didn't continue. The table fell silent for a moment.
Ethan suddenly spoke up. "Hasn't he found a companion? Next time you call him, try to convince him. At his age, he shouldn't be alone."
Andy shook his head, chewing the bamboo shoot slowly, his gaze distant. "I've tried. He says he has his three cats, and he can still visit Dad's grave every year. He says that's enough for him—his heart is full. There's no room for anyone else."
Jenna lifted her wine glass, swirling the red wine gently, saying nothing.
She remembered many years ago, the evening of Edward's burial. Mark had knelt before Edward's grave, placing the fountain pen Edward had given him beside the flowers.
He'd said, "Mr. Russell signed countless documents in his lifetime. The last one was his will. This pen—I won't use it anymore."
Some people remain loyal to one person their entire lives.
It didn't have to be romantic love. Sometimes it ran deeper than love.
It was simply a choice.
To give the best years of one's life, the deepest loyalty, the most profound remembrance to someone worthy, then quietly guard that memory through every ordinary day that followed.
"I remember Uncle Mark's cats are due for their vaccinations next month," Jenna said softly.
"Send him two boxes of cat food. Tell him they're from me."
Dinner continued in warm spirits.
Andy volunteered to clear the dishes and wash them in the kitchen. Ethan brewed tea under the eaves.
Jenna sat in the wicker chair, watching the lanterns in the courtyard light up one by one. She suddenly felt that this lifetime had been very long—long enough to contain so much joy and sorrow, long enough for a little girl who once cried beneath a tree to learn to smile beneath it instead, long enough for a family that had crawled out of the mud to grow lush and flourishing again.
Yet she also felt this lifetime had been very short—so short that in the blink of an eye, the people around her had gone from black hair to white.
Night deepened.
Andy carried Brady, already asleep on his shoulder, back to the hotel. The lights in the old house went out one by one, until only the bedside lamp in the bedroom remained lit.
Jenna lay in bed on her side. Ethan lay beside her, his hand reaching under the covers to grasp hers.
Two hands marked with age spots clasped together above the blanket, fingers loosely intertwined.
They had held hands this way for decades—from youth and vigor to silver hair, from the high-rise apartment in Silverpeak City to the wicker chairs in the Emerald City courtyard, from white sand beaches to the damp soil beside the vegetable garden.
Each time they held hands, it was as if to say: I'm still here. I'm still beside you.
"Ethan," Jenna suddenly spoke.
"Mm."
"Do you remember the day we had our wedding?"
"I remember. You wore a white wedding dress, the hem reaching your ankles, with a small cluster of gardenias in your hair. Andy wore a little suit. Grandma wore a dark red dress. Andy giggled at the falling petals. Grandma turned away to wipe her tears, claiming the sea breeze made her eyes sting."
Jenna laughed. "You remember so clearly."
"I remember everything clearly when it comes to you."
Outside the window, an evening breeze rustled through the magnolia branches.
Jenna turned her hand, weaving her fingers through his.
She closed her eyes and nestled her face against his chest.
His heartbeat—steady and strong, one beat after another—was exactly as she remembered.
From the sound of ocean waves to the quiet nights in the old house, this heartbeat had accompanied her entire life.
She thought back to long, long ago, when she'd knelt on this bedroom floor and opened the camphor wood chest her mother had left behind, pulling out that old photo album with the leather cover.
She remembered the young woman in the album sitting beneath the magnolia tree in a pale yellow cotton dress, the gentle smile on her face as she looked down at the baby in her arms.
She remembered her mother in the video, voice so weak it was barely audible, saying, "Xixi, I hope you'll be safe."
She remembered placing that childhood photograph before Edward's grave, the ginkgo leaves rustling in the wind.
She also remembered the boy in the white shirt in her dream, smiling at her through a shower of falling petals, saying, "Jenna, this time you're truly happy."
She truly was happy.
The safety her mother never lived to see—she had found it.
The life her mother couldn't finish living—she had lived it for her.
The children her mother never saw grow up—she had watched her own children have children, have grandchildren, the whole family gathered around the old house dining table for an ordinary dinner.
And now, in this old house where she was born, grew up, left, and returned to, beneath this magnolia tree that had accompanied her entire life, she held her beloved's hand. Her hair had turned completely white, but her heart was full.
"Ethan."
"Mm."
"Do you think we'll be together in our next life too?"
Ethan took her hand from his cheek and brought it to his lips, gently kissing her fingertips.
"We will."
Fifty years later, Jenna had another dream.
In the dream, she was twelve years old again, wearing a cotton dress, sitting beneath the magnolia tree in the courtyard.
Dappled shadows fell across her lap. Cicadas chirped in the hot afternoon air.
The courtyard gate stood open. She could see the long stone path outside, and someone walking toward her along it.
White shirt, black pants, hair tousled by the wind. He stood in the doorway, backlit, and smiled at her.
"Jenna."
"Mm."
"Are you truly happy this time?"
"Mm. Truly happy."
(The End)
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This story has ended, but my gratitude hasn't.
Thank you for staying until the very last word. Every bookmark, every comment, every silent read — you're the reason I kept going. This story was ours.
If you enjoyed the ride, I think you'll love my next one.
The CEO's Regret: Please Stay, My Wife
Here's what it's about:
Three months left to live.
Years spent as his invisible wife.
He gave his heart to someone else — and left me with nothing but silence.
Now I want out. But suddenly, he won't let go.
He remembers my favorite meals. Watches me like I'm already gone. Begs me to stay.
Too late. My heart died a long time ago.
And this time, love might not be enough to save me.
If you love painful goodbyes, a husband's regret that comes too late, and a heroine who's already given up — this one's for you.
See you in the next book.
Love,
Harper