NOVEL NEXT Chapter 440: A Thousand Souvenirs and Still Not Enough
After Clyde left the villa, Micah remained seated at the table, sipping his milk tea absentmindedly. He couldn't even meet Clyde's eyes without blushing. And that resulted in treating the man coldly. He sat at the far end of the table, distancing himself from him, not uttering a word to him all through breakfast.
He had forced himself to act as usual in front of Darcy and his grandmother, scared they would pick on his unusual behaviour. They had already drawn their swords toward Clyde… if they misunderstood, if they thought Clyde had done something to him… that would have been disastrous.
In the end, Micah had no idea how his demeanour had appeared in their eyes. But he knew damn well in his heart he wasn't happy with himself.
He rose to his feet and stepped outside, feeling suffocated in the house.
After a few minutes, Zhou Ruyan stepped out and stood near Micah. She touched his arm lightly. "I heard you want to go back."
Micah turned, masking his depressed expression and instead offering a smile. "Yeah. I can't stay here forever, can I?" he said and shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"He didn't force you… did he?" she asked hesitantly.
"Nah." Micah shook his head. "I thought it was about time to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over. I should act like a big boy and let them see I am okay. I am okay being their adopted son. I am okay with Darcy returning to the Ramsy family."
His throat tightened, but he kept his voice steady. "I heard from Darcy that they haven't even met him. By returning, I hope they see there is no need to tiptoe around me. I need to prove to them, to myself, that I am strong enough to stand on my own two feet. With or without being a Ramsy."
Zhou Ruyan stared at Micah, her expression torn between heartbroken and pride. "You have grown up."
Micah chuckled quietly. "Yeah. You should be at ease now, Grandma."
"Silly boy," she murmured, "I will never stop worrying. That's my job."
"Grandma, you make it sound like I will be a child forever."
"In my eyes. You always will be," she said, her hand raising to stroke his hair with tender familiarity. "I'm leaving too, dear."
Micah hummed in response and went back inside. After changing his clothes, he set out with Darcy to the local market.
The market lay not far from the villa, nestled at the heart of the coast. As they approached, the air grew thick with the scent of spices, grilled seafood and freshly cut fruit. Vendors called out their wares, the sound of bargaining echoing between stalls.
Deeper inside, the narrow street was lined with canopies in bright colours, red, green and yellow. Wooden stalls overflowed with goods: baskets woven from seagrass, shells polished into ornaments, carved trinkets, and bolts of hand-dyed fabric.
Micah's eyes lit up at the sight. He waved through the crowd with restless energy, peering into baskets and stalls.
Darcy followed at a slower pace, his gaze flickering not just to the stalls, but to Micah himself, his curious hands, the way his lips curved when something caught his attention.
Micah paused at a stall draped with strings of necklaces made from shells and corals. He picked one up, turning it in his fingers.
"So," he asked without looking up, "For whom do you want to buy souvenirs?"
"My…" Darcy paused, looking at Micah.
Micah tilted his head, eyes full of inquiry.
Darcy swallowed hard. "My Mum and Nora."
Micah hummed softly, setting the necklace down. "I should buy for them too. Oh, and my mum and Dad, Willow, Aria." He counted on his fingers as he listed names. "Nick and Eddie, oh right, Emile and Russel. Shit! That's too many."
Darcy's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't speak.
Micah turned to him with a smile. "Don't be awkward about it. We grow up with them. They are our parents. Look at it positively. We have two families now. Two mums." his smile softened into something gentle. "We can't just start calling them something else."
Darcy stared at the young man's profile. The easy curve of his lips, the relaxed acceptance in his tone.
He knew those words hadn't come easily. For Micah to speak so casually now, his many nights had he struggled with it? How many days had he forced himself to swallow the bitterness until he could breathe through it without choking?
And during that time, he had stood aside cluelessly when Micah was struggling. Too happy to have him in his life.
He dropped his head and felt he needed to step up, too. He needed to be strong so he could stand beside Micah.
Two hours passed in the blink of an eye.
Micah wandered through the bustling market street with the carefree excitement of a child discovering treasures. The late morning sun shone down through gaps in the patchwork of colourful awnings, painting the narrow line with shifting patches of red, green, and gold. Vendors stood on either side of the stone-paved road, their tables piled high with trinkets, dried herbs, and seashell jewellery.
Micah was in his element, darting from stall to stall with his eyes gleaming. His hand would shoot out to point at something, a carved dolphin figurine, a necklace of tiny starfish and before Darcy could comment, Micah had already purchased it. He rarely even asked the price.
Darcy trailed after him, arms steadily filling with bags, watching over him like a parent over a child who couldn't resist the shiny things. He noticed the way the stall owners looked at Micah. Their smile widened like wolves spotting a fat sheep. The way Micah spent money was like a true young master, without restraint or thought. The eyes of the stall owners lit up whenever Micah approached, calling him, a handsome boy, sweet-talking him to buy things from them.
Darcy had to step forward and meddle sometimes when he saw they were taking advantage of Micah.
But Micah seemed happy; his delight was too genuine to spoil. So Darcy let him be, let him stay longer even though by now they had enough souvenirs to gift one to every campus security guard.