The Best of Times 3

Over the past decade, everything remained vivid in her memory. After a wedding attended by only the two of them, Renner gradually rose from a small-town sheriff to the keeper of Westbrook Garrison, realizing his dream through another path, burying the youthful impulsiveness deep within him. Crecyda crafted small items to supplement their income, eventually gaining recognition after a connoisseur's recommendation. The end of some things always marks the beginning of others. Durado, the cloth merchant who ended their former life on that coldest winter day, now sat across the table, tasting the soup she had made, stirring a strange feeling inside her.

She didn't know what this old man had experienced in the past ten years. Sometimes she thought he had been silently watching their lives, trying to influence them. For example, a customer had once anonymously purchased a wood carving through an agent. Or on their first wedding anniversary, a luxurious carriage had briefly stopped at their door but left quickly. Five years ago, he had met Renner, but she never knew what they had discussed. Whether these were facts or illusions, Crecyda no longer cared to investigate. Now, watching the old man cautiously lift a silver spoon to his lips, she was more concerned about whether her dish suited his taste.

"How does it taste?" she asked.

"Is this what you cook for my son?"

The sharp reply was expected. "This is his favorite dish," she said.

"When he comes back," Durado said, "you better improve your cooking skills."

"Come by again when that happens."

He didn't respond, only sipping more soup.

Although it was dinner time, the sky hadn't completely darkened. The last traces of the sunset still painted the edge of the clouds.

Crecyda recalled a moment from three years ago. The same time, same place, and the same bowl of soup sat in the same spot on the table. But back then, it was Renner sitting across from her.

"Crecyda, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"Today I ran into someone. You could call him an enemy. I subdued him without force, but in the end, I disobeyed orders and let him go. We even agreed to meet again someday."

"Hmm, that's vague. Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't know. Just like I don't know why I let him go."

"Sounds like a cliché from a hero drama."

"See, now you're mocking me."

"No, I'm not," she said. "You've always been my hero."

They leaned over the table and shared a kiss.

"Ha," after sitting back down, Crecyda was clearly in a good mood, "I accidentally dropped a hair into the soup."

"Yes," Renner smiled.