บททั้งหมดของ You Chose Her, Remember?: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The guy who couldn't even remember Emily's birthday was now counting every day since she left.***The sunlight in Provence didn't feel like New York's—soft instead of sharp, warm instead of glaring. It melted over the lavender fields like a secret.I rented this tiny stone cottage with a studio out back. The landlady, a sweet Frenchwoman in her sixties, greeted me with a smile."You came alone?" she asked in gentle English."Yes. I just want to paint."She glanced at the mark on my ring finger but didn't say anything. Just patted my hand.On day three, my phone rang. Jenny."Emily! Where are you? Daniel's losing it!"I leaned by the window, watching lavender sway like waves. "I'm fine. Tell him to stop looking.""He's really losing it," she whispered. "He's been in Paris for weeks. Checked every hotel. Hired the most expensive PI firm in Europe. He even called the U.S. consulate!""Not my problem.""Emily..." Jenny's voice softened. "His assistant says he's been counting t

Next morning, I started packing.Margaret hugged me tight. "Keep in touch, darling.""I will."At the edge of the village, I looked back one last time. Daniel was still there, scribbling in his notebook.The wind carried his voice. "Day 91... still haven't found her..."Tuscany hit different—sunlight hotter, sharper, like it could burn straight through you.Luca's studio sat inside a 16th-century villa, stone walls swallowed by ivy. When I stepped in, the smell of oil paint hit me hard."Welcome." He'd cleaned up—fresh linen shirt, hair catching the light. "Your room's upstairs. Studio's yours.""How much—""Pay in paintings. One a month. Deal?"I nodded. Worked for me. My funds were basically toast.That first day, I painted like I was on fire. No lavender, no night skies—just red, orange, gold. Flames tore across the canvas."Powerful," Luca said behind me. "Anger's the best fuel."I didn't answer. Just kept going."But don't let it burn you alive." He passed me a glass

The Venice Biennale was even bigger than I pictured.Artists, collectors, critics—everyone who mattered was here. Luca guided me through the pavilions, casually name-dropping as we went."That's Robert Rappolt, editor-in-chief of ArtReview," he whispered. "Landing his cover? Basically your VIP pass into the art world."Robert looked exactly like you'd expect—British, serious, tortoiseshell glasses."Luca speaks highly of you. Says you're the next Tracey Emin.""He's exaggerating.""Your work will speak for itself." He adjusted his glasses. "Tomorrow, 3 p.m. Venice Academy of Fine Arts. Bring your portfolio."An interview. The kind every artist dreams about."I'll be there." I tried not to lose it.On the gondola ride back, Luca clocked my nerves."Relax. Your stuff's strong.""What if I mess it up?""Then you try again." He stared out at the city glowing over the water. "Failing's whatever. Giving up? That's the real loss."I watched him, silhouetted in the moonlight."Wh

The whole restaurant went dead quiet."Sorry for ruining dinner," I said.Luca shook his head and took my hand."No. You were brave."We walked out, Daniel's screams still echoing behind us.At St. Mark's Square, pigeons flapped beneath the moonlight."You okay?" Luca asked."Never better." I looked up at the stars. "You know what's wild? Seeing him like that doesn't make me feel any better.""Why not?""Because my dad's still gone." My voice stayed even. "No matter how much Daniel breaks, it won't bring him back."Luca squeezed my hand."Let the past stay in the past. What matters now is the future.""You're right." I turned to him. "Luca.""Yeah?""Thank you for showing up in my life."He paused, then smiled."It's an honor, Emily."Moonlight spilled over everything as we walked through the quiet alleys of Venice, side by side.***In the shadows they left behind, Daniel leaned against a wall, scribbling.[Day 134: She held someone else's hand. I'll keep counting.

I woke up to my phone buzzing. NYPD."Emily Egerton? I'm sorry—your husband, Daniel Wilson, jumped off a hotel roof..."The phone slipped from my hand."...He's alive. Both legs shattered, spine wrecked. Docs say he'll never walk again. First thing he said when he woke up? 'Tell Emily... today is Day 151.'"I hung up. Just stared out at the Venice skyline.Luca knocked, stepped in. "You okay?""He jumped," I said. Calm. "Didn't die. Just broke himself.""His call," Luca said, sitting next to me. "Not on you.""I know." I leaned on his shoulder. "Guess now he's got forever to count."My lawyer called."Ms. Egerton, huge break in your father's case. Police got their hands on an audio recording—from Sophie Montrose's ex."My heart kicked hard. "What kind of recording?""It's Sophie and Daniel. He told her to have someone inject your dad with a sedative to delay surgery. Sophie upped the dose. She's been arrested in Zurich—being extradited. Daniel's looking at murder charges on