Three Years Forgotten, Why Go Crazy When I Say Goodbye? novel Chapter 569

Sometimes they prepped vegetables together, sometimes they watched TV, and sometimes they sorted laundry. It didn't matter what they did, as long as she was by her side.

Looking back, she had started school early, boarded during middle and high school, went straight to college, and then got married and moved to Seattle. Over the years, she had actually spent very little time with Martha.

When she was young and naive, she had only focused on moving forward—busy studying, growing up, and chasing after the unattainable Julian. After waking up from that long, exhausting dream, she finally realized she had neglected the family she should have cherished the most.

And the person Willow had been thinking about nonstop these past few days was Silas Thorne.

They hadn't seen each other since that incident, mainly because he had flown out on a business trip to Europe the very next day. Between the time difference and the distance, they naturally hadn't communicated as much as they did at the office. Willow was worried about distracting him from work, so she hadn't brought up the matter over the phone. But the bigger reason she stayed quiet was that she felt some things simply had to be said in person.

So, Willow decided to wait until he returned. It wouldn't be too late to ask then.

The days passed peacefully. One crisp morning, with the sunlight bright and a gentle breeze blowing,

Willow arrived at the office on time as usual. Just as she sat down and organized her desk, the receptionist gently knocked on her door, carrying a massive cardboard box. "Director Horgan, you have a package."

Willow paused, glancing up at the huge, heavily taped box with surprise. "For me?"

She never had things shipped to the office. Her personal packages always went to her apartment. Seeing such a large, seemingly important delivery arrive at work caught her off guard.

Right in the center of the box lay a neatly folded handwritten letter and a clear, candid photograph.

When she recognized the youthful, smiling face in the photo, Willow froze, her hand hovering mid-air.

All her confusion vanished in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming wave of tender warmth and a lump in her throat.

It was Ethan Walker!

She crouched down and gently picked up the photo. The boy in the picture was wearing a clean white hoodie. His eyes were clear and gentle, and he was offering the camera a soft smile. He had shed the fragility of his illness, radiating the vibrant energy of a young man.