I Pretended To Be His Crush For Three Years Chapter 24

I Pretended To Be His Crush For Three Years Chapter 24

Milan’s first snow fell in mid-December.

That night, Nora sat in her studio, staring blankly at an empty canvas. Reid sat beside her, the notebook in

his hands, turned to the very last page.

“Find me. Bring me back. Please.” He read the words aloud, his voice very soft.

“You did it,” he said.

Nora turned her head and looked at him.

Outside the window, the snow fell heavier and heavier. The streetlamps reflected on the snow, making the whole city of Milan glow like a city carved from crystal.

“You did it,” she said.

“How did I do it?”

“You didn’t leave.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Nora.”

“Mm.”

“I remembered something.”

Nora’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“I remembered the first time I saw you.” His voice trembled slightly, as if he were struggling to hold onto something about to scatter. “In the hallway. You bumped into me. Your ears were red like a boiled lobster. You said sorry in a panic, your voice so small I almost couldn’t hear it. Then you lifted your head and looked

at me-”

He stopped. His eyes reddened.

“Your eyes were so bright,” he said. “Like stars.”

Nora cried.

Not from sadness. From happiness.

Because he’d finally remembered.

Not because of the notebook. Not because she’d reminded him. He’d remembered it on his own.

“What else?” she asked through her tears.

“What else…” He furrowed his brow. “The sushi place. When you eat salmon, your eyes squint up. The studio.

When you paint, you always squeeze the paint onto the left side of the palette first.”

“At the concert. You were crying in the crowd. I saw you from the stage.”

“You saw me?”

“I’m not sure if I really saw you,” he said. “But I have this image in my mind. You were standing in the corner,

wearing a white dress, holding a sketchpad, crying ugly.”

Nora laughed, tears still hanging on her cheeks.

“You’re the one who cries ugly.”

He laughed too.

That smile-it was exactly the same as the one three years ago, when he’d turned around in the hallway and

seen her.

“Nora.”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Nora looked at him. Her heart was filled by something so full, so complete.

Not guilt. Not debt. Not three stolen years.

It was love.

From beginning to end-love.

“Reid.”

“Mm.”

“From now on, I won’t run anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter if you do.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll chase you anyway.”

Outside the window, the snow fell heavier and heavier.

Milan’s winter was cold. But that embrace was warm.

The system hadn’t disappeared.

It was still there-whispering in the deep of every night, urging at every dawn.

But Reid didn’t listen.

Not because he didn’t remember her. But because he remembered.

Every detail. Every drop.

From the first encounter in the hallway, to the squinting eyes at the sushi shop. From the white dress in the concert corner, to the paint-stained fingers in the studio.

He’d remembered it all.

Not through the notebook. Not through her reminders.

It was his own body-bit by bit-that had retrieved every memory the system had stolen.

“Yesterday, the system spoke again,” he said into her ear.

“What did it say?”

“The same thing as before.”

“What did you say back?”

He lowered his head and looked at Nora.

“I said-I choose her.”

“What did the system say?”

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because the system finally realized,” the corner of his mouth curved upward, “it can’t win.”

“Win what?”

“Win this.”

He lowered his head and kissed Nora.

The snow in Milan fell outside the window, on the rooftops, on those ancient cobblestone roads.

And Nora finally understood:

Stolen things must always be returned.

But love isn’t stolen.

It’s given. From the very first day. It always was.