?<strong>Chapter 254:</strong>


    In front of her mother’s tombstone, she felt like a child again—safe, free to vent, toin, to seekfort in the most vulnerable moments of her heart.


    Gradually, the sun set, and night began to consume thest traces of daylight. A gentle breeze rustled through the cemetery trees, creating an eerily quiet atmosphere.


    Carrie, who once feared ghosts, now understood that living people were far more terrifying.


    After narrowly escaping death twice, she knew the true meaning of fear. These silent graves, she thought, wouldn’t harm or betray anyone. And besides, her mom was here. If any ghosts dared to approach, her mother would protect her.


    The air grew cooler, seeping into her skin. She shivered, drawing her jacket tighter around herself, and stood to leave. It was time to say goodbye.


    Just as she turned, something soft and warm draped over her shoulders. She spun around, startled, and found Kristopher standing there. Without a word, he settled the jacket snugly around her and slid an arm across her shoulders.


    Turning toward the gravestone, he spoke with quiet reverence. “Danna, it’s gettingte. We’ll be here for a few more days and wille see you again soon.”


    Carrie hesitated but then followed his lead, murmuring her own goodbye. Slipping out from under his arm, she adjusted the jacket properly and gave him a quick nce.


    Kristopher reached for her hand, his voice low but teasing. “If you trip again and end up in the hospital, how are you nning to keep up this tough act?”


    She shrugged, not meeting his gaze, but allowed him to take her hand as they started their way down the hill. Somehow, intentionally or not, their fingers ended up entwined. Her hand remained stiff in his grasp, her fingers refusing to curl around his.


    After leaving the cemetery, Carrie and Kristopher rejoined Albin and Camille. Camille had found a local barbecue spot hidden within a residential district, renowned for its long-standing presence and authentic taste. Back when Carrie was a student, she and her friends would scrape together their allowances to enjoy meals there.


    Despite his usual fondness for cleanliness, Kristopher rxed his standards at this humble county eatery. He discreetly cleaned the table and chairs with a wet wipe, making no fuss about it.


    Their strikingly parked cars attracted attention during the bustling dinner hour. Onlookers, on their way home from school or work, paused to observe, with some even taking pictures. Amid the murmurs, someonemented, “That car looks like it was owned by a rich businessman, doesn’t it? Why would someone so wealthye to our small county instead of staying inrger cities or traveling overseas?”


    Catching this, Carrie, while enjoying a piece of grilled eggnt, turned to Kristopher and yfully inquired, “Mr. Norris, the locals are curious… why do you visit these secluded rural ces?”


    Kristopher, dressed simply in a ck shirt, sat effortlessly elegant, his demeanor devoid of any shy adornments. His presence alone seemed to elevate the modest setting. As he dabbed at some sauce that had spilled near Carrie, he replied, “Remember how you once shared about your simple beginnings here, and how much you wished to see it developed? You mentioned that if you had the means, you’d support the growth of this ce and its surroundings.”


    He carefully left out part of her pastments to preserve her pride. Carrie had previously expressed, “If only I had the resources, I’d develop my hometown and the impoverished areas around it… Unfortunately, I married young and have to focus on my family.”


    “I hope someone capable wille along to uplift this area. I’d be eternally thankful to such a person.”


    Surprised by his recollection, Carrie looked away, feeling a bit awkward. Meanwhile, Camille, who had been yfully jostling with Albin for a chicken wing, momentarily lost her grip on her fork, giving Albin the opportunity to scoop the wing into his bowl.


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