Chapter 555 Homecoming
"Mom, do you think my new dress is pretty?" Seraphine twirled around, her pink skirt flaring out like a blooming flower.
Lucas, with a mischievous grin, pulled a drawing from his backpack. "Mom, I made this for you!"
The drawing depicted three stick figures holding hands. Despite the childish strokes, it was clear that it was Emma and the two kids.
"Is this us?" Emma carefully took the drawing.
"Yep!" Lucas nodded vigorously. "The teacher said the most important person should be in the middle. That's you, Mom!"
Emma's heart filled with warmth. She pulled Lucas and Seraphine into a hug, kissing each of them on the forehead. "You two are the most important people to me, too."
In the dining room, the long table was laden with dishes Sophia had prepared herself. The crystal chandelier cast a warm glow, illuminating everyone's smiling faces.
"Let's toast to Emma's health!" Henry raised his glass, his eyes full of contentment.
"Cheers!" everyone echoed in unison.
Mia had made sure to sit next to Emma, constantly putting food on her plate. "Eat more, look how thin you've gotten."
Ethan chatted with Henry about recent business trends, occasionally making Lucas and Seraphine burst into laughter. Sophia watched the lively scene, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Emma noticed Sophia's emotional shift.
Sophia shook her head and held Emma's hand. "Nothing, I'm just so happy. After all these years of ups and downs, it's rare for our family to be together like this."
After dinner, everyone moved to the garden gazebo. The early summer night breeze carried the scent of flowers, and fireflies flickered among the bushes. Mia, like a magician, pulled out a few bottles of fruit wine from her bag.
"Let's celebrate Emma's return. Tonight, we drink until we drop!" she declared, pouring everyone a glass.
Ethan shook his head helplessly. "Mia, Emma just got out of the hospital."
"It's just fruit wine, very low alcohol!" Mia dismissed his concern, winking at Emma. "Remember when we sneaked the professor's stash in college? That was strong!"
Though Emma couldn't recall, an image of a drunken girl flashed in her mind.
Emma couldn't help but laugh. "Was that the time you turned beet red after one sip?"
"You bet! And who finished the rest of the bottle?" Mia playfully poked Emma's shoulder.
Emma and Mia laughed together like children.
Happy times always fly by.
As the night deepened, considering Emma's need for rest after her recent discharge, friends and family began to leave. Mia, reluctant to go, held Emma's hand. "I'll come by tomorrow with your favorite almond cake from the east side!"
After seeing everyone off, Emma returned to her bedroom. Though physically exhausted, her heart was filled with warmth, making it hard to sleep. Outside, a full moon hung high, its silver light casting a serene glow over the garden.
Just as she was about to drift off, a faint violin melody reached her ears. The tune was so familiar it made her heart clench—it was "Moonlight."
If Mia were still here, she'd recognize it as the piece George played at the university's welcome party.
Emma found herself getting up, barefoot, and walking to the window. As she opened it, the cool night breeze and the music washed over her. She looked down to see a tall figure under the sycamore tree, playing the violin with intense focus.
The moonlight outlined George's perfect profile. His eyes were closed, the bow gliding smoothly over the strings as if he didn't need to see. His movements were graceful and precise, each note filled with emotion, resonating clearly in the quiet night.
Emma's fingers gripped the windowsill tightly, her nails almost digging into the wood.
George seemed to sense something, pausing briefly before looking up directly at her.
The music resumed, even more tender and poignant. George's fingers danced on the strings, as if telling a story of years of longing and regret. In the moonlight, his figure looked so lonely yet so determined.
Emma's eyes began to well up.
In her subconscious, George was always on that stage in the music hall, capturing her heart with this very piece.
The melody grew more intense, like waves crashing against rocks. George played with increasing passion, his body swaying gently with the rhythm, his black suit shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Emma had never seen anyone play this piece so perfectly.
As the final note faded, the garden fell silent again. George slowly lowered his bow, maintaining his posture as if waiting for something.
Emma's heart pounded. She didn't know if she should speak, if she should face this man she both loved and resented. In her moment of hesitation, George spoke, his voice low and clear:
"Emma, I know you're there."
The words hit her like a hammer to the heart. Emma gasped, instinctively stepping back.
George seemed to sense her retreat, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm not here to force you into anything. I just want you to know I've been waiting for you."
George gently caressed the violin, his touch tender as if it were a lover's face. "This violin was your wedding gift to me, remember? You said its sound was as warm as my voice."
Emma's tears finally spilled over.
She had forgotten, but George hadn't. It was when Emma loved George the most, scouring the entire city to find this Sylvanor antique violin.
"I practice this piece every day," George's voice was especially clear in the night. "I hoped one day I could play it for you again, just like in college."
A gentle breeze rustled the sycamore leaves, as if accompanying his confession. Emma covered her mouth, afraid she might sob out loud.
George stood quietly for a moment, seemingly waiting for her response. When the silence stretched too long, he sighed softly and carefully placed the violin back in its case.
"Goodnight, Emma." He glanced one last time in her direction, then turned to leave.
At that moment, Emma finally found her voice. "George!"
Her voice was unmistakably clear in the quiet night. George froze, his entire body rigid like a statue.
"Don't go," she whispered, her voice trembling, "Please, don't go."
George turned slowly, his eyes searching hers. "Emma, I've missed you so much."
Emma nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I've missed you, too."
George took a tentative step forward, then another, until he was standing directly beneath her window. "Can we start over?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.
Emma reached out a hand, as if trying to touch him from afar. "Yes, George. Let's start over."
The moonlight bathed them both in its gentle glow, and for the first time in years, Emma felt a sense of peace.
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