Old Dreams No Return (Serena) novel Chapter 22

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Across the Atlantic. Winter.

Liam pulled his coat tighter, thick textbooks tucked under his arm. He power-walked across the empty plaza in front of the library.

Life in this new country felt like someone had hit the slow-mo button. And the mute button, too.

All the frantic chasing and “accidental” run-ins were gone. Time, without them, stretched out forever.

He’d gotten used to practically living at the library until closing, fueled by coffee and sad, cold sandwiches for most of his meals.

Therapy continued.

In that silent room, where you could hear your own breathing, he finally stopped using anger and avoidance as a shield. Instead, he started, clumsily but honestly, to unpack the moments that had cost him everything.

He replayed her countless disappointed glances, his own casual neglect, and that ridiculous, self-assured arrogance – the one that was so damn certain

she’d never leave.

The pain still cut deep, but he stopped trying to bury it. Instead, he learned to live with it, and through that persistent, dull ache, slowly began to reshape his understanding of emotions and what it truly meant to be responsible.

Growing up was a lonely trek, and though he faltered, he never looked back.

Tiffany’s texts and international calls kept blowing up his phone for the first couple of months.

The tone on the other end of the line shifted from hurt complaints, then to bitter accusations, and finally, just tired pleas to get back together.

“Liam, when are you coming back?”

“What’s so great about it over there? Are you seeing someone else?”

“Are we really over?”

Liam’s replies went from short and cold, to eventually nothing at all.

He just stopped responding.

He was completely drained. Whether it was love, hate, or even just annoyance, he had nothing left to spare for her.

Her fervor on the other end of the line slowly flickered and died, drowned out by his consistent indifference.

The very last text came late one night, a short message with just two words: “Got it.”

After that, just a long, deafening silence.

That name, the one that had caused a tidal wave between us, finally sank like a pebble in the ocean. Silent. Forgotten. It never stirred a single ripple in his life again.

His world finally, completely, went quiet.

Half a world away, the West Coast was soaking up the warm, humid winter sun.

My own life, once a grayscale canvas, was slowly being painted with vivid, vibrant colors.

I was crushing it in my dance major, Opportunities started rolling in: intercollegiate competitions, even some paid gigs. On those small stages, I was confident, I was radiant. And I was earning more and more recognition.

In my dance club, I became the go-to senior, the one the younger girls confided in

The pain and self-doubt that once gnawed at me had long been replaced by daily fulfillment and a strong sense of accomplishment.

I no longer needed anyone’s validation to know my own worth. My world felt expansive and solid.

Then, one perfectly ordinary evening, I was just leaving the library.

The setting sun stretched our shadows out, long and lean.

22:15

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We’d just wrapped up a discussion about next semester’s club showcase. The vibe was super chill, really easygoing.

We strolled past the famous Lover’s Lane, where a few couples ambled by, all cozy and coupled up.

Suddenly, Mark slowed his pace. He turned his head to me, his eyes gentle but serious.

“Serena.”

He called my name.

“Hmm?”

I stopped, looking up at him.

The setting sun’s light caught his features, outlining his clear eyes and sharp brows in a warm, golden glow.

“I told you before, I’d wait until you were ready.

Now, I want to ask you again… Will you let me be there for you, as your boyfriend?”

I looked at him.

I thought back to every single time he showed up, always at the perfect moment. His unwavering respect for my boundaries. His quiet, constant support. And the clear, hopeful expectation in his eyes right then.

I’d once lost the guts to believe in love, but he, with his time and actions, had slowly pieced that courage back together, bit by bit.

A soft smile touched my lips. My eyes lit up with a clear, bright joy, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

“Sure.”

I replied softly, my voice holding a lightness and certainty I’d never felt before.

A spark of pure surprise and joy ignited in Mark’s eyes. He carefully reached out and took my hand.

We didn’t say anything else, just shared a smile. Then, naturally, our fingers intertwined, and we continued walking down the path, bathed in the setting

sun.

Behind us was the past, finally left behind.

Ahead of us was a new path, full of hope, leading us together into the future.

Time slipped away like sand through my fingers.

I leaned weakly against an old wicker chair, facing the sunset.

The birdsong in the yard slowly faded, and my consciousness drifted into a haze.

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