Chapter 4
When Edward saw the wooden boat, his face finally changed.
"No, not this one," he said, his voice firm.
He walked over, closed the lid on the boat, and kept it close by his side.
"Lily gave this to me," he said.
It was the first time he'd said no to Susan since we got on board.
My fingers had been clenched all night, and they finally uncurled a little.
Susan didn't insist.
She just stared at the ten paper boats inside the wooden boat, her tears falling one after another.
"The doctor said that after we die, we all have to cross a long river," she said softly.
"If I throw the ten years I envied into the sea, maybe in my next life I'll meet the person I love a little sooner."
Edward's brow furrowed.
He said, "Anything else on this ship, just not this one."
"But nothing else holds the ten years you two had together," Susan said softly.
Susan wiped away her tears and gave me a gentle smile.
"It's okay, Lily. You've already let me borrow your dress, your wedding ring, and even your husband. I can't take away the last thing that still means something to you," Susan said softly.
With that, she turned to leave.
But after just a couple of steps, she swayed and nearly collapsed.
Edward caught her in his arms.
The doctor stepped forward to check on her, murmuring, "Ms. May's heart rate is racing. She can't take any more stress."
Everyone on the deck turned to look at me.
Alicia was the first to speak up.
"It's just ten old paper boats, are they really worth more than a life?" she said.
Charles tried to persuade me, too. "Lily, if the boats are gone, you can always make new ones. But if Susan really gets hurt because of this, how will anyone ever look you in the eye again?"
The manager held the wooden boat out to me.
"Mrs. Grant, Mr. Grant reserved the whole cruise ship so everyone could walk away without regrets. If you could help out, it would make the ceremony complete," he said.
Everyone else's perfect ending was always built from pieces they took from me.
I clung to the wooden boat, holding on for dear life, no matter what they said, I wouldn't let go.
Edward looked at me for a long time.
Then he walked over, took my wrist, and slowly peeled my fingers away, one by one.
He was so gentle, I didn't feel a thing.
He said, "Lily, those ten years were real. They won't just vanish because of a few paper boats.
"Susan just wants something to hold onto. You still have me. You don't need these to prove what we had."
Finally, my last finger slipped free.
Edward handed the wooden boat to Susan, then put his jacket over my shoulders.
"Just hang in there. Once we're back on land, I'll get the best craftsman to make you a new one," he said softly.
Susan hugged the wooden boat and walked toward the railing.
She took out the first paper boat.
"The first year, I'm giving it back to you, Lily," she said softly.
The yellowed paper boat drifted into the sea.
"The second year, I'm giving it back to you, too," she said.
The second one was swept away by the sea breeze.
Each time Susan said she was returning a year to me, she let another year slip away into the sea.
On the back of the fifth paper boat, Edward had scribbled the medicine dosage for me when I was running a fever.
The seventh one still carried the stains from that rainy night we spent together.
On the ninth, he had added a promise the year before: [Next year, I'll be there with you.]
Edward stood beside Susan, making no move to stop her.
He just placed his hand gently on my shoulder and murmured comfort in my ear.
"Don't watch, Lily," he said softly. "I remember every year, every moment. When we're home, we can make new ones together."
Susan picked up the last one.
It wasn't a paper boat.
It was the program card for tonight's ceremony.
The last line said: [Tell Edward, here's to the next ten years together.]
After reading it, she suddenly looked up.
"Lily, see? Ten years aren't really that heavy," she said softly. "Let go, and they're just gone."
As the paper boat slipped into the sea, she pressed a button on the wooden boat.
Edward's voice from ten years ago played from inside the wooden boat.
"Lily, when I have enough money, I'll take you to see fireworks every year."
Before the recording finished, Susan's hand slipped.
The whole wooden boat went over the railing.
I took a step forward.
But Edward released me and darted over, catching Susan just as she nearly collapsed.
The wooden boat bobbed twice on the waves before the sea swallowed it whole.
Susan pressed her face against his chest, sobbing.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I'll get it back for Lily," she choked out.
She tried desperately to climb over the railing.
Edward held her tight.
"That's enough. It's just a model," he said, his voice firm but gentle.
He turned back to me, giving me a look that said he didn't know what else to do.
"Lily, stop overthinking it right now. If something happens to her, you won't be able to rest easy," Edward said, his tone a bit impatient.
I stood there, watching the last paper boat drift away.
It turned out he did get how much those things mattered to me.
He just thought I was more sensible than Susan.
So what mattered to me could always take a back seat.
At nine in the morning, the cruise ship docked for supplies.
Edward went with Susan to the infirmary.
I returned to the master suite and carefully put the tenth-anniversary vows, photos, gifts, and the hard drive into my suitcase, one by one.
I set the wedding ring beside the empty base where the wooden boat once sat.
I didn't say goodbye or leave a single word behind.
In the afternoon, after Susan fell asleep, Edward came back to the suite with a reprinted ticket.
"Lily, I had them print a new ticket for you. Take a look," Edward said.
He paused in the doorway, his voice fading.
My clothes were gone from the closet.
My skincare products were gone from the vanity.
The hard drive with the tenth-anniversary video, which had been sitting next to the player, was gone too.
He yanked open the drawer.
Everything I'd prepared for our ten years together was gone.
On the table, only the wedding ring he'd returned was left.