When She Turns Her Back (Teresa and Charles) novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173

Teresa’s feet finally hit solid ground, and a flicker of safety settled over her.

She wiped her tears, shaking her head. “I’m fine. Just… freaked out, that’s all.”

“Really?” he pressed, still frowning.

“Yeah, really.” She nodded, but her gaze stayed down.

Troy hesitated, then asked carefully, “You are thinking about Charles again?”

Teresa rolled her eyes, snapping, “Why would I be?”

Seeing how strongly she reacted, he raised an eyebrow, thinking, ‘You’re only acting this way because you’re still wound up about him.‘

But he let it drop–no use picking at that now.

By the time Troy drove them to the old town, it was well past midnight, but the place was still buzzing.

People were everywhere, and plenty of girls were rocking vintage clothes.

Street vendors lined both sides of the path, their stalls overflowing with handmade goods–artisan jewelry, quirky trinkets, decorative prints, and an array of tempting snacks.

The old town had even more charm at night than during the day. It was packed, and the place felt so alive.

As Teresa and Troy strolled side by side past a little trinket stand, the vendor called out, “Sir, how about picking out a trinket for your wife?”

A warm, bubbling feeling rose in Troy’s chest when the vendor called her his wife, and a grin spread across his face. He stopped in his tracks and turned to Teresa. “See anything you want? Go ahead, pick whatever catches your eye. It’s on me.”

Teresa turned to peruse the stand, her eyes scanning the array of handmade trinkets. She browsed idly, her fingers trailing over a few items, until her gaze landed on and lingered at a small, intricate waterwheel.

The vendor saw her eyeing the waterwheel and quickly picked it up. “Madam, you’ve got a good eye! This is actually the priciest piece I’ve got here.”

Teresa paused, hesitating, but Troy caught it. “Wrap it up,” he told the vendor, pulling out his wallet.

Teresa wanted it. There was no way he would let this chance slip by.

“Troy, you don’t have to” she started, but he waved her off.

He handed over three hundred bucks before the vendor could even name a price, and the man’s smile widened.

He quickly wrapped up the waterwheel and handed it to Troy, saying, “Sir, you’re a gem to your wife. Lucky lady, she is.

Troy took the wrapped waterwheel, grinning. He leaned in to murmur to the vendor, “Not my wife yet. But give it time.”

The vendor laughed and said, “Hope it happens soon, sir.”

Troy clicked his tongue, confident. “It will. Just you wait.”

With that, he turned to Teresa and handed her the bag. “Look, I already paid for it. No backing out now.”

Teresa hesitated for a moment, staring at the bag, but in the end, she reached out and took it. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Troy flashed her a playful grin. “Words are cheap. If you really wanna thank me, how about some… action?” he asked.

Even though she knew he was teasing–probably hinting at something flirty–Teresa tilted her head, earnest. “What do you want me to do?”

Troy’s throat went dry. The quip he’d been about to fire–something about a kiss, maybe–died on his lips.

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Chapter 173

With her looking at him like that, so straightforward, it felt wrong to joke.

So he shrugged, casual, and said, “How about we go set those wish boats adrift? Like I promised.”

Teresa blinked, clearly caught off guard–like she’d expected him to say something more.

But she nodded and replied quietly, “Sure.”

Troy laced his fingers through hers and tugged her into the crowd, weaving through the throng until the river came into view.

There, a weathered wooden stall huddled under a canvas awning, its shelves cluttered with parchment, quills, and an array of painted paper boats–edges frayed, but bright with reds and golds, like they’d been dyed in sunset.

Out front, a hand–lettered sign read: [Write your wish, set the boat adrift, and they say the old spirits of the river’ll carry it home to come true.]

The stall keeper, a grizzled man with a smudge of ink on his cheek, perked up when he spotted Troy and Teresa. He pushed himself off his stool, wiping his palms on his apron, and called out, “Evening, Sir, madam. Fancy trying your luck with a wish boat?”

Troy nodded, his gaze flicking to the boats bobbing in a bucket by the counter. “We’ll take some parchment, quills, and two of your biggest boats.”

The keeper’s face creased into a grin. “Coming right up.” He fumbled through his goods while naming the price. “Fifty bucks, that’ll do

it.”

Troy pulled out his wallet, fished out a bill, and once the keeper had pocketed it, he handed over the boats–sturdy things, their parchment reinforced with twine–and the writing supplies.

Teresa took the parchment and quill, turning it over in her fingers. “So we just… write our wishes here?”

“Yep,” Troy said, already uncapping the ink pot. “Whatever’s on your mind–river spirits will make it true.”

Teresa let out a bitter huff, something like a laugh. “River spirits. Please. That’s just a story we tell ourselves to feel less stuck, isn’t it?”

Troy paused, the quill hovering over the parchment as he turned to look at her. She had her head bowed, a few loose strands of hair falling soft across her face, her whole posture quiet, almost fragile.

She gripped the quill tight, her eyes drifting to the river, where the current tugged at the reeds clearly miles away in her thoughts.

Troy could tell she was lost in it, so he let out a low chuckle and murmured, “Can’t I do a good job of being your spirit, then?”

His voice was so soft the wind might have swallowed it; Teresa didn’t so much as flicker.

But whether she’d heard or not, it didn’t matter–not to Troy.

‘Whatever it took, he thought, dabbing the quill into the ink, I’d make sure her wishes didn’t need a river to come true!

Thinking about that, a smile crept onto his face.

He lowered his head and started writing his own wish on the parchment.

Teresa leaned over, curious to see what he was jotting down, but Troy blocked her view with his hand. “Legend has it, if someone else sees your wish, the river spirits won’t grant it.”

His words made Teresa chuckle, and she just shrugged her shoulders, saying, “Can’t believe you’re still so childish at your age!”

Troy pouted and looked at her, mumbling, “It’s my business.”

Teresa moved her parchment further away. “Then I’m not showing you mine, either.”

Troy turned to look, but she switched positions so he really couldn’t see what she was writing.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was, she was willing to write.

Troy got back to jotting down his wish on the parchment.

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Chapter 173

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