Chapter 4

When she saw me, she froze.

The watering can in her hand clattered to the ground with a loud clunk.

“Juliet?”

Instinctively, I took a step back. “Do you know me?”

The old woman’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She rushed over, grasping my hand tightly. “Honey, you’re finally willing to come back.”

I was completely bewildered. “Ma’am, have you mistaken me for someone else? This is my very first time here.”

Yet the old woman kept shaking her head. “There’s no mistake.

“When you were little, you loved hiding behind that sycamore tree over there.

“Every time Damian couldn’t find you, he’d cry his eyes out.”

I followed the direction of her finger.

Sure enough, sitting in the corner of the courtyard was a massive sycamore tree.

For reasons I couldn’t explain, the instant I laid eyes on that tree, a sharp, piercing pain throbbed through my head.

It felt as though a memory was flashing past in a blur.

A little boy and a little girl with pigtails were holding hands, speaking a sentence that sounded faint and distant:

“Juliet, when I make money in the future, I’ll give you five hundred dollars every single day.”

I clutched my temples tightly and squatted down from the sudden, intense pain.

The old woman quickly helped support me. “What’s wrong, Juliet? Are you feeling unwell?”

My face was pale, and I barely managed to steady myself. “I... I think I just remembered something.”

Right then, a deep voice echoed from behind us.

“Mrs. Evelyn Gable, please stop.”

I turned around. Damian was standing at the entrance, though I had no idea when he’d arrived.

He wore a sleek black shirt, his figure outlined by the fading evening light, leaving his expression hidden in the shadows.

Mrs. Gable looked at him and let out a sigh. “How much longer are you planning to hide it from her?”

Damian didn’t answer.

He simply walked toward me, step by step.

For the very first time, I noticed that this man—who always appeared cool and controlled at the office—was actually showing a hint of nervousness right now.

He stopped in front of me.

After a long silence, he spoke in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”

I froze, looking at him in complete confusion.

He raised his eyes to meet mine.

“I failed to keep our promise.”

Everything that had happened today felt so bizarre that I’d been in a daze the entire day. “What promise?”

From his suit pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper, yellowed with age.

The paper was so old it had turned brittle, its edges curling upward.

He gently unfolded it and placed it before me.

Written on it was the crooked handwriting of two young children:

“When we grow up, Damian will give Juliet five hundred dollars every day.

“Must keep giving it, no cheating.”

In the bottom right corner were two tiny red handprints alongside two crookedly written signatures.

One of them was my name.

My head buzzed with a loud ping, and my heart rate accelerated violently.

“This is…”

Damian let out a faint chuckle.

Yet behind that smile lay a bitterness I couldn’t quite fathom.

“You forced me to write this when you were six years old. You said five hundred dollars was a huge amount of money, enough to buy tons of candy.

“You also said that if we ever got separated, as long as I kept giving you five hundred dollars every day, you’d definitely recognize me.”

A sudden warmth welled up in my eyes.

For reasons unknown, I felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity with all of this, yet I couldn’t remember the details no matter how hard I tried.

Lowering my head, I looked back at the piece of paper.

Right then, I suddenly noticed something.

Written on the back of the paper was a line of unfamiliar handwriting.

It didn’t look like a child’s handwriting—it looked like an adult’s.

It contained only a single sentence:

“If Juliet ever recovers her memory, please do not tell her who died that year.”

My breath hitched instantly, and I jerked my head up to look at Damian.

“What does this mean?”

Beside us, Mrs. Gable’s expression turned serious.

And the faint smile on Damian’s face faded away, bit by bit.