Five Years of Marriage to Mr. Bradford (by Koi Fish) novel Chapter 495

Chapter 495

Shock, regret, and guilt flashed in Vance’s eyes, but all that he could manage was a bitter smile. “What? No, I would never…”

“Nothing is impossible!” Rebecca interrupted. “Remember that classic scene in Titans? The guy stands behind the girl at the bow, and they fly? If it were me with you, I would already be in the water.”

“I would never…”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more of your lies! It’s all over! Just stay the hell away from me!”

Vance lowered his head. When he looked up again, his eyes held endless sorrow. “Fine. I’ll move farther away. You stay here.”

She turned away without answering. A minute passed with no movement, and she glanced over her shoulder. “I thought you were leaving. Why are you still here?”

“Okay.” He started walking away but called back, “Move around a bit. It will help sober you up and keep you warm.”

He jogged toward the other end of the ship. The ride had steadied, so he moved smoothly.

But she had no intention of following suit. She wasn’t crazy.

Yet he had been right about the liquid courage. When drunk, she only wanted to sleep and forget her fear. Now that he had woken her, the sound of the waves brought the terror back.

Suddenly, the sound of a harmonica floated across the ship, probably played by one of the crew. It reminded her of the various artistic works she’d seen, where a lonely sailor always played a harmonica at sea.

A surge of inspiration hit her. Surely, she wouldn’t follow Vance to run, but she could dance. Then nothing could scare her

anymore.

Under the starlight, to the rhythm of the harmonica, she began to move across the deck.

It was strange. When she stood still or sat, she felt sick, unsteady, and terrified. But the moment she started dancing, she found a perfect balance.

Dance had always been her salvation. Once she began, the world narrowed to only her and the music. Fear vanished. Even her stomach settled, and the nausea disappeared.

The melody was familiar. It was Motherland, a piece of music she had danced to countless times.

She slipped into a state of complete immersion, unaware that the crew had gradually gathered or that who was playing the

harmonica.

It was a song every American knew by heart, so it made perfect sense for sailors far from home to play it while drifting overseas.

The harmonica performer stood among the crew, watching her dance gracefully under the deck lights. The music carried his memory through the night, back to those sunny days when he was 16.

A girl in her dance uniform, with pigtails and leg warmers, had spun, flipped, and leaped in the rehearsal studio.

The aloof boy had stood outside the window, picked a leaf, and played along with the music. She danced freely inside, and he played steadily outside.

Cheers and applause broke his reverie and stopped the music. The girl on the deck halted her dance. Her gaze cut through the crowd and landed on him, the harmonica still at his lips.

Her eyes seemed to say, “It was you.”

Yes, it was him. From 16 until now, it had always been him.

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