Chapter 7
The following day, our family of three boarded a high–speed train for nine hours and then took a two–hour bus ride to reach
my grandmother, Miranda Knightley’s home.
As we approached the village, Miranda came out to greet us, holding onto a large black dog.
“Oh my sweet Keira, you finally decided to come back and see me! But look at you, you’ve lost weight!”
“Grandma, I’ve missed you so much!”
Without a second thought, I threw myself into Miranda’s embrace, inhaling the warm, sun–kissed scent that always surrounded her. I choked back a few tears, overwhelmed with
emotion.
Miranda, thinking I was startled by the big black dog, quickly scolded it.
“Good Luck, you stop barking! What if you scare Keira?”
I instantly brightened, wiping away my tears as I reached out to pat Good Luck’s head.
“Grandma, I’m fine! I just missed you and Good Luck so much.”
But my reassurance didn’t calm Good Luck. The usually
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well–behaved dog was barking excitedly and jumping up, pressing its paws against my hands as if it were anxious to see
- me.
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Miranda’s cheerful demeanor shifted to concern as she looked at
me seriously.
“Keira, have you been going through something lately? Don’t be afraid; you can tell me anything.”
Her words eased some of the heaviness I had been carrying, and I affectionately linked my arm through hers, leaning in to playfully whine.
“Oh, Miranda, it’s nothing! I just can’t stop thinking about your delicious cooking!”
She playfully scolded me but didn’t press further, simply leading me toward the house.
Good Luck stayed right by my side, never straying far.
That night, after savoring Miranda’s creamy fish soup, my anxious feelings melted away.
We sat together under the trellis she had built, chatting and sharing stories while the evening chorus of crickets serenaded us. I couldn’t help but feel at ease, and soon enough, I started to
doze off.
The next couple of days were filled with simple joys. My parents and I worked in the fields alongside Miranda, and when the
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midday heat became too much, Good Luck and I splashed around in the nearby stream. We enjoyed fresh vegetables from the garden for dinner.
Logan reached out to me several times, but I ignored his messages and eventually blocked him altogether.
With no worries weighing me down, I began to emerge from the shadows of my past life.
But just as I started to feel settled, a familiar phone call interrupted
my peace.
“Hey, I know the last part is tricky. Do you have any ideas?”
The call was from Marvin Streep, a helper I’d enlisted and a fellow junior in my department.
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A competitive scholarship recipient who made it to university, Marvin also aspired to apply for graduate studies under Vincent, our mutual connection.
Now, in his junior year, he hadn’t signed up for this competition.
When I decided to withdraw, my immediate thought was to seek his
assistance.
After all, my teammates had invested too much. I couldn’t
impulsively pull out and waste everyone’s time, so I turned to Marvin to save the day.
Over the phone, Marvin shared numerous fresh ideas and
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solutions, reigniting my passion for coding. I booted up my laptop and jotted down several reference methods for him.
I was confident that, with Marvin’s help, my teammates would surely achieve great results.
Yet, the unexpected happened right then.
