You Had Me, You Lost Me, You'll Never Find Me novel Chapter 57

When Sylvia walked downstairs, Julian noticed she looked pale. He asked if she wanted to head back and quickly escorted her out.

In truth, her stomach had been violently churning. Julian pulled the car over halfway home so she could throw up, leaving a burning sensation tearing up her throat.

It was her first time experiencing such severe morning sickness.

It felt as if her body was using every ounce of its energy to reject her reality.

Not wanting to inconvenience Julian, Sylvia gritted her teeth and endured the rest of the drive. The moment she stepped into her apartment, she bolted for the bathroom and wretched again.

Nothing but bile came up.

The moonlight outside was cold and silent. Without turning on the lights, Sylvia sat on the balcony and began searching Reina's name online. The results confirmed that Reina indeed had an older sister named Rebecca Winslet, a rising pianist who had competed in numerous international showcases.

Sylvia found an old social media account Rebecca used to run. The final post was dated March 16th several years ago, mentioning a symphony orchestra performance.

There was a viral video pinned to the feed, shot from a first-person perspective.

A young man was kneeling, gently tying the girl's shoelaces. His expression was painfully tender and deeply devoted. The intimacy between them was undeniable.

The comment section was flooded:

"This is so romantic! I need to find a boyfriend to tie my shoes for me~"

"He is insanely gorgeous. Where do I find a sweet guy like that?"

"Omg, he treats you like an absolute queen! He looks so sweet!"

The rest of the account was filled with snippets of her daily life.

[I didn't expect the sun in Helsinki to be so brutal, but it's okay. I have a giant human parasol.]

Attached was a photo of the girl hiding in a man's shadow.

March 16th was the day Rebecca died.

After that post, Ashton's account went completely dark for a long time. It wasn't until exactly one year later, on the next March 16th, that the posts started trickling in:

[I still remember all your favorite foods, your sleeping habits, and how much you hated taking medicine. I'd coax you every single time. You little idiot, are you happy where you are now?]

[I drove past the amusement park and thought of you. But I don't think I'll ever ride a Ferris wheel again.]

[I miss you so damn much. I smoked a lot again today. I suddenly remembered you hated the smell of smoke, but what else am I supposed to do?]

[If I hadn't made that detour to the bakery that day, would none of this have happened?]

[It's raining again. When I confessed to you, you told me I was too immature. Now I'm finally capable of sheltering you from the storm. Can you come back to me?]

Every year, spaced out over agonizing intervals, he would post a message on that account. It only stopped the year he met Sylvia.