A Message From My Future Husband Set Him Free—So Did I Chapter 06
Life on the island was slow.
Just as the future Julian had said, it was like a hidden paradise.
My house was on the west side of the village.
A two-story cottage with windows facing the sunset.
In the evenings, I would open the window and let the ocean wind pour in. The curtains would billow up like sails.
Slowly, the islanders got to know me.
One day, my neighbor lady saw me and said, “Little Rose, where are you off to?”
I looked at her, confused.
She pointed at the wild roses in my yard.
The island was full of them. They grew wild between the rocks, clustered together.
After that, everyone on the island called me that.
When I walked on the beach, children would wave and say, “Hey, Rose!”
I put the two million dollars in the bank. Nothing on the island was very expensive.
I started forgetting things.
The first day I came, I had Julian’s number memorized.
When I couldn’t sleep at night, I would whisper the digits in the dark.
Later, the number got fuzzy. I forgot some of the digits. Eventually, all of them.
One day, I’d been crouching on a rock for a long time. When I stood up, I felt dizzy.
I held onto a nearby rock and waited for the feeling to pass.
In that foggy moment, a question popped into my head: What’s today’s date?
I tried to remember. I couldn’t.
The days came and went like the tide, steady and unchanging.
The roses in my yard bloomed and faded, bloomed and faded.
“Little Rose,” my neighbor said, “it’s been a while since you arrived, hasn’t it?”
I just shook my head and smiled. “I’ve lost track.”
That evening, I was sitting by my window watching the sunset.
I heard footsteps downstairs.
Not my neighbor. I knew her walk, slow and a little shuffling.
The footsteps stopped right outside.
Then my neighbor’s voice, confused, “Can I help you, sir?”
A moment of silence.
Then a voice. “Ma’am, I’m looking for Amelia Grant.”
My eyes went wide. My heart slammed against my ribs.
I thought I had cut that part of my life away. But hearing that familiar voice, all those old memories came rushing back, flooding my mind.
I clamped a hand over my mouth and crept into the house.
My neighbor’s voice drifted up from below, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
That evening, I went to the dock to buy fish.
An elderly woman the islanders called Grandma Mae ran a small stall there.
“The grouper’s not very fresh today,” she said. “Storm’s coming. The boats didn’t go out far.”
I was about to leave when she said, “Looks like that man is here for fish too.”
My breath caught.
Julian stood at the other end of the dock. He was staring right at me, his eyes unreadable.
He looked thinner. His cheekbones stood out.
The wind blew his hair back, revealing a faint scar above his eyebrow.
I grabbed my fish and turned to go home.
“Amelia.” His voice shook. “The storm’s coming. Make sure your windows are closed.”
I didn’t look back. I just walked to the village with my fish.
No one followed. But I knew he hadn’t left.
That night, the storm hit.
The wind blew in off the ocean. Rain fell sideways. The windows rattled.
I went to close one, but rain was already blowing in. The floor was wet.
Just as I was about to latch it, I saw someone through the gap.
Julian stood below in the rain, completely soaked.