Six months had passed.
The aroma of coffee beans, mixed with the gentle warmth of sunlight, drifted lazily out of my shop.
My father was in the small garden by the shop entrance, humming a slightly off-key tune as he watered a newly bloomed orchid.
He was now the manager of my shop. Every day, he played with the cat, tended his flowers, and played chess and chatted with regulars. He looked ten years younger.
He had finally come back to life after that failed marriage.
As for the huge fortune I got from my ex-husband, I did not set up some foundation with it, like they do in those stories.
I simply used it to live the life I had always dreamed of living.
It was the exact sort of life that Howard despised and looked down on above all else—free and wealthy.
The wind chime at the door
