Seven Years a Shadow: The Stand-In's Escape novel Chapter 79

Isabella redecorated the house.

It had a fresh, clean style—exactly what she liked.

When I got home, I almost thought I had entered the wrong place. She clung to me. “Isn’t it cozy?”

The black-and-white room was now painted pink—completely out of place.

Silly.

I couldn’t bear to hurt her sense of aesthetics. “Childish.”

She chattered non-stop. “It’s not childish, okay?”

Because of those two words, she bothered me for the whole night.

I simply tossed her onto the bed. When she kept nagging, I teased her a little, and she quieted down.

But then she got even angrier, hugging her doll and turning her back to me.

No matter how I tried to coax her, nothing worked.

After she fell asleep, I pulled her doll away, casually threw it aside, and put a different one in her arms.

The doll ended up in the trash.

Ha, deserved it.

What a ridiculous doll. To think it could compete with me for her affection.

I searched online, and it turned out she bought quite a few different kinds of dolls.

I had someone gather all of them and send them over.

The next day, she had torn the house apart again, and everything was back to its cold and quiet state. The dolls she bought were gone too.

I frowned. “Why did you change it back?”

She munched on biscuits, saying, “It looks too weird, I’m just not used to it.”

She actually realized that pink doesn’t match black and white. Progress, I guess.

I looked around and found that she had thrown the dolls away too.

She casually said, “It’s all a disaster now, I don’t like them anymore.”

I paused. “I see.”

All that effort gathering them was for nothing.

Damn dolls, that house collapsed so quickly.

I waited for her to buy new ones, for her to change the style of the room.

But she never brought anything back home after that.

She seemed a little odd.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and softly said, “Lucas, kiss me.”

Well, no oddness there, still as clingy as ever.

Today, while on a business trip, I ran into an unexpected person.

Her former colleague.

The one who had pursued her and hugged her.

I remember him clearly, along with everyone around her, which naturally included Jimmy.

He clearly remembered me too.

So many things I had overlooked in the past started to align, and even I, slow as I am, realized something was off.

I opened a bottle of wine and sipped it as dusk settled.

Isabella didn’t like me drinking. She always asked me to drink less.

I checked her online activity and saw that she wasn’t asleep.

I opened the chat and typed. “I love you.”

When I saw her note “sugar daddy,” I felt a jolt and instinctively tossed the phone away.

“(She) You should love me just the same.”

The stomach is the organ of emotional expression.

I heard her on the other end of the line, softly saying, “Lucas, I love you,” and my stomach stirred with an indescribable feeling.

It felt just like that summer night seven years ago.

I was waiting for someone on a street in the south of the city when my arm was lightly tapped.

A soft voice, wrapped in the delicate fragrance of iris, called out to me.

“Excuse me, do you know where this address is? I’ve got the GPS on, but I can’t seem to find it.”

I looked down and saw her looking frustrated.

“I told you not to come to such a remote place to play. You can’t even find the way.”

I pointed her in the right direction.

That was when we first met.

She doesn’t remember.