Chapter 3: Rumors and Reunion

The boat ride was long.

Long enough that my illness faded away like a bad dream, and I slowly nursed myself back to health.

The river mist rolled in every morning, cloaking the deck in pearly light. I made a habit of sitting alone with my tea, watching the water slip past and trying not to think about Savannah or what I’d left behind. The air was filled with the sharp scent of diesel and the sound of low voices swapping stories.

Most of the cabin was filled with merchants traveling from Savannah to Maple Heights.

Far from the governor’s eye, they idly gossiped about state affairs, mostly about Andrew Lane.

"I heard that after the governor was deposed, he was once toyed with by a vegetable-selling girl named Natalie, locked in a bridge underpass and tormented for a long time."

"That vegetable-selling girl seems to have the same name as the daughter of the Harper family in Maple Heights. Could they be the same person?"

"Really? The Harpers have been educators for generations. How could they have raised such a poisonous woman?"

I sipped my tea beneath the brim of my hat, listening to their cruel, baseless gossip. My knuckles went white around the cup as I fought the urge to defend myself. I remembered the first time I heard such rumors as a teenager—how the words had cut, how I’d locked myself in the bathroom and cried. Now, I just kept my face hidden and waited for it to pass.

After all, during the years I helped Andrew get back on his feet, there were always people in the streets jealous and slandering me.

Some said I wanted Andrew for his looks, others claimed I schemed to marry into power.

Some even said I was sent by the ninth councilman to drag Andrew down.

Andrew was cold and aloof, never bothering to refute the rumors.

I got used to it too.

But then a porter carrying a sack of rice passed by the cabin, suddenly flushing and snapping,

"You’re talking crap!"

"The Harper family in Maple Heights was wiped out by a gang—how could there be any daughter still alive?"

"Even if there was, she’d be an exceptionally wise and gentle woman. How could you foul-mouthed folks have the right to talk about her?"

The group of merchants grew anxious, about to jump up and curse him.

But seeing the porter with his sleeves rolled up, muscles bulging, taller than anyone else, he really wasn’t someone to mess with.

They could only shrink back, grumbling, and asked the boatman to drive him away.

I slipped to the stern and saw the boatman scolding the porter in frustration.

"You—causing trouble for me again. Last month, you got your head split open by a rich guy for saving a strange girl from being bullied."

"A few days ago, you protected a mistreated kitten, yelling at the professor until his face turned red."

"Today, those people didn’t even bother you, just said a few words about the Harper family’s daughter. What’s it got to do with you?"

The porter was silent, lowering his handsome brows and eyes.

His face was flushed from the summer heat, chest rising and falling.

"How could it have nothing to do with me?"

"She was my wife. Or she was supposed to be, before the world fell apart."

I choked and nearly stumbled.

It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped my cup, and the sun shimmered off the river in a dazzle that made my eyes sting.