I packed up my simple luggage, sitting alone on the plane.
I had prepared everything, heading to the hometown of the grandmother who once adopted me. She had passed away many years ago, and there was a school in the village, where the education was poor.
In the future, I would teach there, telling the children about the outside world.
When Cornelius woke up, he would find the divorce papers on the table and the video message on my computer.
He might be heartbroken.
Or maybe, he'll think I'm too cold-hearted.
I still didn't choose to stay with him.
Life in the mountains was peaceful and serene. Time seemed to slow down.
To avoid being found, even Charlie didn't know where I was.
At first, I thought after I left, Cornelius would ask Charlie about me.
It was a bit surprising—he didn't ask Charlie.
He didn't ask anyone about me at all.
He accepted my leaving.
I thought that with time, I would truly move on.
But as the seasons changed, I realized there was always an empty corner in my heart.
The first snow came.
When I stood at the door watching the snow, I suddenly remembered—no one would ever put a coat on me at this time again.
The mountain air was cold.
Many children at the school didn't have warm clothes, but they seemed used to it, happily playing with the snow.
I was thinking of how to arrange more clothes to be sent here when the principal happily told us that someone had anonymously donated many coats, quilts, thermos bottles, cups, and plenty of food.
The children would have a warm winter, and I was happy too.
That day, trucks arrived one after another into the mountains.
The children were ecstatic and excitedly told me, "Teacher, when I grow up, I want to drive a truck like this!"
I helped other teachers unload the supplies, and we all said we were lucky to encounter such a kind-hearted person in this remote place.
When I was unloading a larger box, I almost couldn't hold it.
A hand appeared from behind, helping me steady the box.
I turned around to say "thank you," but the person didn't speak. He was tall and thin, wearing a large hat, scarf, and mask, and kept helping us carry things.
My heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Maybe I was just physically exhausted?
Soon, the children were wearing their new coats, new shoes, and their cups filled with warm steam.
The principal prepared several rooms, saying that the workers would stay here to help repair the road for a while.
I couldn't help but wonder who this kind-hearted person was, so thoughtful and familiar with this place.
In the evening, I brought the ginger tea I had made to the workers.
When I opened the last room, the man who helped me with the boxes earlier was standing there.
He was still wearing his hat and mask, which seemed strange.
I smiled and said, "It's cold, drink some ginger tea to warm up, thank you for your hard work."
He looked a little stunned and after a long pause, he took the bowl from my hand and said, "Thank you."
His voice was low and hoarse.
Suddenly, I felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
But he awkwardly closed the door, and I was sure it was just an illusion.
The next day, the principal asked me to take the workers around to familiarize them with the area.
Soon, they began working on the road. The once quiet little mountain village started becoming lively.
I became their designated person to deliver meals.
Slowly, everyone became familiar with each other.
They told me the man's name was Lamont, and it seemed like he covered his face due to burn scars.
So, he always ate alone, away from the others.
I didn't ask too much, thinking he must be a good person.
Lamont rarely spoke but quietly did a lot of things.
If the meals were too heavy, he would help carry them.
If the path was hard to walk, he would always be the first to steady me.
He worked as a helper in the kitchen while also going to the playground to teach the kids basketball.
I would tell him, "Look, my students like you more and more."
He would smile lightly and say, "No, you're the one who's more likeable."
I began to have a strange illusion, a sense of déjà vu.
This wasn't the first time.
On my way to deliver the meal, I was distracted.
Without paying attention, I suddenly missed my step and rolled down the slope.
The branches and vines scratched my face and hands, and it wasn't until my body hit the tree trunk that I stopped rolling.
A sharp pain shot through my leg, and I could only keep my back against the tree, unable to move.
In a daze, I thought back to the moment when Greta had pushed me down the stairs.
Looking at the steep slope, I cried out.
"Cornelius..."
Unconsciously, I called his name.
It turned out, I had never truly let go of him.
I would think of him in countless moments of helplessness, unable to distinguish whether it was hate or love.
No matter where I hid, he was always there.
The sky gradually lost its light, and nightfall arrived.
The only sounds around me were the calls of insects and birds. I clung to my fading consciousness, hoping someone would find me.
I was so tired, so in pain.
Finally, I saw a bright light breaking through the darkness.
I heard someone calling my name, calling "Miss," and then my name again.
In a daze, it almost seemed like I heard someone calling me, "Carlee!"
I heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming closer, and then I was gently lifted into someone's arms.
I couldn't open my heavy eyelids, but I could feel the trembling of these hands.
I couldn't hear what they called me, but just before I lost consciousness, I whispered Cornelius's name again.
Barely audible.
When I woke up, a child was by my side. He excitedly shouted, "Woke up! Woke up!"
The child asked if I had had a nightmare, saying I had been crying in my sleep.
I stared blankly, unable to speak.
I wasn't severely injured. My head ached a little, my foot was sprained, and I had some minor scratches on my body.
The principal was very concerned, urging me to rest well.
I heard that when I was missing, everyone was really worried.
It was Robert who found me.
A few workers exaggerated the situation, saying how anxious Robert was at the time.
I just thought they were joking.
Robert is a good person; he's kind to everyone.
He chopped some bamboo to make me a walking stick and told me not to walk if I could avoid it, and to call him if I needed anything.
That night, it started to pour.
Suddenly, Robert asked me who Cornelius Gentry was.
I froze.
He said that when I was unconscious, I kept calling out that name.
"He's... a very distant friend," I replied.
Robert seemed to freeze in place.
The rain kept pouring for days, severely delaying the road construction progress.
The mountain paths became muddy, and the unfinished sections were further damaged by the rain.
The workers went out early and returned late, working hard to repair the damage.
The principal advised that safety was the top priority.
But after one outing, Robert didn't come back with the others.
The workers said he had driven over to move some equipment, but I never saw him.
With a faint hope, I ran to his room to see if he had gone back there.
His door wasn't locked. I knocked, but there was no answer.
I entered, and the room was simple, barely furnished.
He wasn't back.
Suddenly, as if by some sixth sense, I noticed a photo on his bed.
When I saw the photo clearly, I froze in place.
