The CEO's Doll ✔

Chapter 19

He helped me tie my shoelaces, a very beautiful butterfly knot.

Elliot seems to not be afraid of the cold. He's wearing a flight jacket and jeans. When he squats down, I see that beautiful swirl on top of Elliot's head, like a child.

Elliot stands up, pats his face, and looks at me. He says, "Let's go."

I follow him, feeling my heart burning.

The snow outside has stopped, and the sunlight reflects into people's eyes, all white. I seem to see a tear rolling down Elliot's eye corner.

But I'm not sure if it's a tear.

Because Elliot has never cried in front of me. Tears are not suitable ornaments for Elliot.

Maybe I saw it wrong.

We arrived at the parking lot, and Oliver was sitting obediently in the back seat. Elliot puts the luggage in the trunk, and I sit in the passenger seat, turning back to look at Elliot and say, "Buckle up."

Elliot nods and then says, "Mom, I'm thirsty."

There's no water in the car, so I go to the nearby convenience store to buy some.

When I come back, Elliot is waiting by the car, holding a cigarette in his mouth. When he sees me coming, he extinguishes the cigarette and walks towards me.

"I'm a little tired. Smoking refreshes me," he explains, taking the plastic bag from my hands.

I look at the bruise under his eye and suddenly remember when we had dinner with Noah in Rome, Elliot called him and said he couldn't sleep.

He hasn't recovered yet?

Elliot walks in front of me, suddenly stops, and turns his head. "If I say... never mind."

I lightly inquire, "If what?"

Elliot runs his hand through his somewhat messy hair. We're very close, and I can smell a faint scent of sandalwood and cedar.

"It's nothing," Elliot says, looking at me in a daze.

Snow starts falling again, a few snowflakes land on my hair, and he reaches out to brush them off for me.

Elliot softly calls out, "Macy."

"Yeah," I respond lightly.

There's a hint of laughter in his voice, but the tone feels familiar, just like... six years ago on the last night in Tunisia, how I desperately called his name. Elliot. Elliot.

I understood.

Elliot is returning my freedom to me.

"Macy," Elliot calls me again.

"Yeah."

I continue to respond.

"For every time, long, long ago, I'm sorry. For making you hurt, I'm sorry. For scolding you, I'm sorry. For forcing you, I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

I understood.

"These six years, I've only dated a few girlfriends out of stubbornness. I haven't kissed or hugged any of them, and I haven't slept with anyone... I just want you to know that my heart is sincere this time."

"I don't see you as a tool for revenge. I just... I want to share sunrises and sunsets in life with you. If you like flowers, I'll bring you bluebells every day. If you still like drinking milk, I'll buy it for you every day."

"I've thought about growing old with you."

My throat choked, tears obstructed my vision, but I still managed to say in a muffled voice, "Yeah."