Chapter 130

Eric had forgotten. So had Van. Today, bringing Winnie home was supposed to be about an apology—for the borrowed money, for concealing Wendy's identity, and for the delay in his response over the past five days when he had failed to make things right. He had spent time thinking of ways to make it up to her. That effort now lay untouched on the coffee table in the guest room. Winnie sat on the sofa, her gaze fixed on the small gacha machine in front of her. It was delicate, almost like a music box—its transparent dome holding capsules snugly together, their crystalline colors reflecting tiny sparks of light beneath the chandelier's glow. Still unshowered, Winnie stared at the gacha machine and began to laugh—softly at first, then louder, her knees pulling together as she buried her face in them. Van remembered how she used to play with gacha toys when she was upset. As a child, she couldn't afford them. But as she grew older, she finally could, making up for lost time, seeking comfort that had long been denied. If Van were here now, would he stand off to the side, one hand casually in his pocket, with that charming smirk, asking, "Winnie, is it true that playing gacha makes you happy?" Winnie wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying. Her smile was bright, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She reached out and turned the little crank on the machine. The soft click of the gears was followed by a sharp clink. A crystal-clear capsule rolled out from the small opening. She picked it up, sitting cross-legged on the sofa. Taking a deep breath, she smiled brightly as she opened the capsule. Inside was a pigeon blood-red ruby, heavy and flawless, resting in her lap. The square-cut gem, about five carats, glowed with a fiery hue—too vivid, too perfect. Even at Christie's, it would be a prized treasure. Her smile faltered. She held the ruby between her fingers, lifting it to catch the light from the chandelier. The finely cut edges of the gem refracted sharp, dazzling rays that seemed to pierce her gaze. She leaned forward, setting it back on the table, and turned the crank once more. Out came another capsule. A yellow pear-cut diamond. A pink sugar-diamond. A round emerald. A translucent, colorless diamond. ... She kept turning, opening one after another. One gem. Then another. On the black coffee table, the radiant stones formed a colorful line. Then two rows. Then a neat square formation. With a soft plop, a tear fell, landing on the dazzling jewels and spreading into a faint blur—a jarring contrast to their brilliance. Winnie knelt on the carpet, tears and smiles intertwining as she bit her lip. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, the tears kept falling. She didn't know how many gems she had opened when suddenly, a blue gemstone rolled out. It was a ring. The ring was encircled by delicate, crystal-clear diamonds, glistening like stars surrounding the moon. Winnie's breath caught, her chest tightening with an icy pang, while her eyes grew even wetter. That ring—it was the first one Van had ever given her. It held the memory of that night. It was with this ring that he had bound her heart—and the inescapable fate that connected them. In anger, she had returned it to him. He had told her he lost it. Anything she didn't want, he would never keep. But now, here it was, still glowing with brilliance. Like a teardrop from the depths of the ocean, it lay quietly before her. Almost instinctively, Winnie slipped the ring onto her finger. She lowered her head, her expression calm, almost devoid of emotion. But the tears wouldn't stop. Whether she blinked or not, they kept streaming down. The next second, hurried footsteps echoed behind her. She had knelt for too long; her legs were numb. Stumbling to her feet, she accidentally kicked the corner of the coffee table. Pain shot through her, making her face contort momentarily, but she didn't stop. She rushed downstairs, moving like a gust of night wind—urgent yet soft. Eric was standing by the door, holding an umbrella. When he saw her, his face lit with surprise. "Miss Loxley, why aren't you resting yet?" "Where's Mr. Marlowe?" Winnie hastily wiped her tears, forcing herself to focus and make sense of her surroundings. "He's rowing." "I'm going to find him!" "Wait—" Eric barely had time to stop her, his voice trailing after her with a note of helplessness. "It's going to rain..." Outside, the rain had already started. The night wind was warm, and the rain gentle, falling slowly and sparsely onto the grass and leaves, with a few drops landing on Winnie's cheeks. Her pace remained swift.