Chapter 367

Winter dusk always arrives without warning.

By seven o'clock, the entire city is swallowed by thick darkness. Heavy clouds hang low, blotting out even a single star.

"What a shame," Adrian mutters around the cigarette between his lips, squinting at the sky.

Grant approaches, leaning on his cane. "What's the shame?"

"No stars tonight." He exhales a smoke ring. "It was supposed to be clear."

"You should be glad." Grant glances upward. "The rain's coming—just like that night four years ago. Might actually jog your memory."

CRACK—

Lightning splits the sky, followed by deafening thunder. A sudden gale sends roadside trees swaying violently.

Fat raindrops begin to fall, quickly escalating into a downpour.

Grant whistles. "Looks like heaven's on your side."

A dozen cigarette butts litter the ground at Adrian's feet. He crushes the half-smoked one in his hand, rain instantly dousing it.

Taking two steps back, he flashes a determined smile.

The darkness forces Grant to switch on the headlights. In the dim glow, Adrian stands ten meters ahead, arms outstretched as if embracing something.

"Come on!" His shout is nearly drowned by the storm.

Gritting his teeth, Grant reverses the car. The engine roars like a beast as the Lincoln accelerates.

BANG!

The impact sends a violent shudder through Grant. He slams the brakes, the wet pavement making the car skid another dozen meters before stopping.

His hands tremble as he steps out.

"Adrian?"

Without headlights, only the relentless drumming of rain fills the void.

Where is he?

He was right here.

Unless—

"Adrian! If you're dead, that's on you!" Grant's voice wavers. "You signed the waiver!"

Silence.

Groping through the rain, his cane brushes against something soft.

Kneeling, his fingers meet warmth. The metallic tang of blood floods his senses.

"Adrian?!"

A pained groan answers.

Grant exhales sharply. "Not dead yet. Need an ambulance?"

"No." Adrian's voice trembles between laughter and tears. "This rain...it's really coming down."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Won't die." He struggles to speak. "Help me up...to the bike."

In the faint light, Grant finally sees him clearly.

Adrian lies drenched, only his eyes burning unnaturally bright—not their usual sharpness, but filled with anguish and tenderness.

"You're still riding?"

"Stella's waiting." His voice softens. "She's terrified of thunder."

Long silence. "...You're insane."

"I'll keep my promise."

"What?"

"No matter the past...thank you."

Grant's eyes widen. "You remember?"

Adrian tilts his face to the rain. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight."

"Still time."

"Time for what?"

Staggering upright, his black clothes indistinguishable from blood, Adrian fixes his gaze on the distant motorcycle.

"Eight...the bridal shop's still open."

"What bridal shop?"

He collapses against the bike, his shattered cast dangling uselessly. After several attempts, the engine sputters to life.

"We got married." Suddenly he grins like a child with candy.

"..."

"Under the crabapple tree."

"..."

"She wore a floral sundress as her wedding gown...used my shirt for a veil..."

"..."

"But she loves beautiful things...should have the most gorgeous dress..."

No response comes, not that he expects one.

"She loved me...she chose me..."

Through the night, the motorcycle weaves unsteadily. Falling. Rising. Moving forward.

Toward the bridal shop.

Toward her.