Find me in your labyrinth (Stella and Jonathan) novel Chapter 2962

Sylvia’s eyes glistened with tears, but she smiled and nodded. “Could you let Mom and Grandpa know for me, too?”

“I’ve already canceled my ticket—we’ll wait for you at home before we go,” Georgia said gently. “I’ve spoken with Don. He understands me, and he understands you.”

“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Sylvia promised.

“There’s no rush. I’ll have Don leave first, so we don’t need to hurry,” Georgia replied with a warm laugh. “Your happiness with Gabriel is the most important thing.”

In that moment, Sylvia felt profoundly grateful—not just for having family, but for having family who loved and supported her unconditionally.

After the call, Sylvia put down her phone and got up to wash up in the bathroom.

Passing by the intricate bookcase, she noticed a drawer on the left slightly ajar, something inside catching her eye—just for an instant, something familiar. She had already walked past it, but turned back, opened the drawer, and looked inside.

There was a sketchbook—the very one Gabriel used to carry around when they were taking lessons together at the villa.

He must have stopped by here after leaving the villa and left some of his personal things behind.

Back then, Sylvia often saw him sketching during class, but had never actually seen what he drew. Now, finally, she had the opportunity; without needing anyone’s permission, she curiously took out the book and flipped it open.

She was stunned by what she saw inside.

Gabriel had drawn more than a dozen sketches, and every single one was of her.

Her attentive expression as she listened in class, her figure playing with the children in the garden, even her profile lost in thought as she sat in a chair...

Each line was graceful and every composition full of life; he’d captured even the smallest nuances with remarkable detail.

Looking at these different sides of herself, Sylvia turned the pages gently, her heart surging with emotion. Joy and deep gratitude flooded through her.

Near the back, a half-sheet of paper slipped out and fell to the floor. She picked it up, surprise flickering in her beautiful eyes.

The handwriting was unmistakable—both his and hers.

It was from one afternoon in class, when they had joined the children in passing handwritten notes.

Line by line, she read:

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