Revenge is Best Served After Reborn (James) novel Chapter 1818

"You decided so quickly? I haven't even checked it out yet!"

Sophie sat in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection with her freshly applied red lipstick. It made her feel suddenly mature.

So mature, she barely recognized herself.

James commented, "That lipstick matches your dress perfectly."

"It does, doesn't it?"

Sophie turned to James with a playful grin and asked, "How do you know this lipstick goes with my dress? Since when do CEOs dabble in fashion?"

"Nope, just a lucky guess."

James asked the store clerk to wrap up their purchases simply, and then they headed back to the hotel together.

Sophie slipped into the red dress, and her long hair was styled into soft curls by the stylist.

James watched as her face gradually transformed into the Sophie he remembered.

"Why are you so quiet? I've asked three times—do I look good or not?"

"...You look stunning."

"It's strange, wearing this dress and having my makeup done. Looking in the mirror feels like I'm seeing someone else."

Sophie gazed at her reflection.

James seemed to see through Sophie, imagining a different version of her in another world.

"I'd love for you to play a piano piece tonight."

"Hmm?"

Sophie turned to James and asked, "But there's no piano here."

"Remember the square we passed by today?" James replied. "A real stage isn’t bound by location."

That evening, Sophie played a Chopin nocturne in the bustling downtown square.

Passersby paused to watch Sophie perform by the fountain, vibrant and fiery yet gentle and serene.

"What do you think?"

"I think Godfather loves that woman with the last name 'So' more, or else why would you agree to divorce my mom for her?"

James tousled Fiona's hair and said, "Fiona, I felt more guilt towards your mom than love."

"But my mom said you didn't owe her anything."

Fiona continued earnestly, "Mom said she loved you too. She said one might not only love one person in a lifetime, but it just happened that when she loved you, you didn’t love her, and when you loved her, she no longer loved you. It's like that saying... 'You were born before I could love you; I was born too late to love you.'"

James stayed silent.

After Fiona left, he picked up his phone.

The wallpaper was a picture of Sophie, head down, enjoying a dessert.

Twenty years later, the photo's quality had faded a bit.

James smiled wistfully, "Is it that you regret I was born too late, or do I regret you were born too early?"