Chapter 931:

Millie’s lips parted; tears filled her eyes. “Is it you?” she whispered, reaching for their presence in the swirling petals. The soft petals brushed her skin, and her heart softened with bittersweet longing.

The petals kept floating; the wind stirred the chimes, and their music rang clear and pure. From the car, Myron watched quietly. He wanted to ease her sorrow, but knew such wounds heal only with time. All he could do was remain nearby—ready to help her in whatever she chose to face. No matter what it was.

Night settled slowly. It was destined to be a sleepless night. Many people lay awake, their hearts weighed down. Millie sat by the window, gazing at the moon with feelings she could not name. After a while she rose and moved silently to Ari’s room.

Ari slept soundly, arms wrapped around the ragdoll cat. Millie smiled and gently touched her cheek. “Meow.” The ragdoll cat opened its eyes and gave a soft call.

Millie understood. She carefully loosened Ari’s arms so the cat could wriggle free. It climbed into Millie’s embrace, rubbing its head against her chin. She scratched it lightly, and it purred with contentment.

Holding the cat, she watched Ari turn in her sleep. Millie tucked the blanket around her and felt a quiet peace settle over her heart. A shadow stretched across the doorway. Millie looked up to see Myron. He met her gaze and came to sit beside her.

“Meow,” the cat greeted him softly, then buried its head in Millie’s lap. Myron chuckled and gently tapped the cat’s head with a finger.

Since Millie and Ari moved in, the chubby ragdoll had followed them everywhere, showing little interest in him. Millie shot him a playful glance and hugged the cat protectively. The cat let out a small, pitiful sound and nestled deeper into her arms, as if to say, “He’s bothering me. Look what he’s doing!” Its theatrics made Millie laugh.

Myron laughed with her. He slipped an arm around her shoulders so she could lean against him. Moonlight streamed through the window, stretching their shadows long across the floor.

𝗢𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺: 𝗀Ɐ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀﹒ⅽ𝗈𝗺

Elsewhere, Brandon sat upright in bed, staring at the moon that hung high in the night sky. On the bedside table, a tanzanite stone caught the moonlight, glowing faintly. Sleep would not come.

Morning arrived. Lynda reached the hospital with her team. She first updated Jon and his wife on the search for Vivian and then introduced one of her colleagues.

“We’ll need to create a sketch,” Lynda explained. “You’ll describe the person you saw that day, and my colleague will draw the suspect. Do you feel up to it?”

She was a bit worried; after all, Jon had only recently regained consciousness. Jon nodded without hesitation. The thought that someone might still be after him filled him with unease, and he was eager to identify the culprit and see him put behind bars. They began the process.

Time stretched until finally the sketch lay finished.

“Jon, is this the person who attacked you?” Lynda’s colleague asked, turning the drawing toward him.

Jon studied the face sketched on the sheet of paper. In an instant, the nightmare of that night replayed in his mind. The hairs on his arms prickled as a cold wave of dread swept over him.

“Yes… that’s him!” Jon’s voice trembled as he pointed at the drawing.

Lynda leaned closer to inspect the portrait. She also held a stack of photographs, ready to show Jon and see if he could identify any of them.

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