In the ring box lay a pair of matching rings, exactly the ones Clara had once imagined proposing to him with. Ian couldn’t find the words to describe how he felt at that moment.
He picked up one of the rings in disbelief, examining it closely. He even pulled up a photo on his phone that customer service had sent him. They were identical.
So, Clara had buried the rings she once wanted to use for their proposal here.
Why would she bury them here?
Ian felt as if his heart stopped beating at that moment. His mind turned to mush, unable to think. It was a simple question, yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
When his gaze fixed on the engraving inside the ring, he stumbled backward a few steps.
The engraving read “9911.”
9911.
Wasn’t that their special number? Why did Clara know it so well?
Ian clenched the ring tightly in his hand, pulling out two letters from the box beside it.
His own letter, the one he had dictated, written on his behalf by No. 11, held no surprises.
However, why did the handwriting on No. 11’s letter look so familiar? Elegant and clear, like a blinding light, it hurt his eyes.
He slowly unfolded the letter, and the first sentence nearly brought him to tears. [Mr. Nine, I am No. 11. My name is Clara.]
Mr. Nine.
Clara.
Only now did Ian dare to believe his guess. Clara was the No. 11 he had been searching for.
No. 11.
Clara.
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