After Him Chapter 10

This failed "chance encounter" was like ice water, completely waking Jameson up.

He no longer hoped to get close, no longer fantasized about forgiveness.

Near Emma's residence, he rented an old house with a view of her courtyard gate, beginning his belated atonement in an almost humble, silent way.

Every morning outside the volunteer center where Emma worked, a bouquet of dew-fresh white roses would appear right on time—no signature, no card.

When she occasionally came home late walking dark paths, a silent figure would follow far behind until she safely entered her gate and the lights came on. Only then would that figure melt into deeper darkness.

On rainy days when she forgot an umbrella, a sturdy plain black one would somehow appear by her window.

Once when a drunk local thug tried harassing Emma coming home late, the next day that man completely vanished from town—no one knew why.

Emma quickly realized who these "anonymous" gestures came from.

She felt no gratitude—only anger at being monitored, enveloped, and bone-deep panic.

He was like an invisible yet omnipresent net. No matter where she fled, she couldn't truly break free.

She threw those expensive white roses expressionlessly into the trash. She deliberately took long detours trying to shake that "shadow." She tossed that black umbrella directly into muddy puddles. She even started quietly checking maps, looking for the next place to settle—somewhere more distant, more remote.

Through the landlord, Jameson sent Emma a message and a document.

"He says he'll never try to appear before you again or disturb your life. He only asks to know from afar that you're safe. If you decide to leave here, he'll keep an even greater distance—you'll never notice. He said... it's the only way he can keep living."

The document was a property transfer agreement certified at the highest level. He'd unconditionally transferred all his real estate, funds, and savings—an astronomical sum—to Emma. The agreement took partial effect immediately without her signature. She had complete control.

"He says this isn't compensation—he knows it can't compensate for anything. He just hopes... your future life can have more security, you won't have to struggle to make ends meet, you can go anywhere you want and live however you want." The landlord was a kindly local elder who sighed as she relayed the message. "He wishes you... peace for the rest of your life."

Emma held that document—light as air yet heavy as mountains—her feelings impossibly complex.

In the end, she didn't immediately move.

Perhaps the constant mental strain had exhausted her. Perhaps that phrase "letting go" and "only way to keep living" left a barely perceptible crack in the hard wall around her heart—one she wouldn't even admit to herself.

The days seemed to return to a fragile calm.

However, months later, a super typhoon the weather service failed to accurately predict struck the defenseless island town like a maddened beast.

Howling winds, torrential rain, towering waves.

Emma curled in the corner by the sturdiest load-bearing wall, wrapped in blankets, listening to apocalyptic sounds outside, terror gripping her.

Just then, with a tremendous crash, her door—already battered by wind—was violently broken open from outside!

A figure soaked through, clothes torn to shreds, face and arms covered in cuts and blood, burst through the storm like a demon born from it, stumbling inside.

It was Jameson!

His hair was wild, face deathly pale, but his eyes blazed in the darkness, filled with desperate urgency.

Spotting Emma in the corner, he shouted: "Emma! You can't stay here! Come with me now!"

Seeing him, Emma recoiled violently by instinct, screaming: "Don't come near me! I don't need your help! Get out!"

But Jameson wouldn't be refused.

Danger was imminent. He rushed forward in a few strides, ignoring her pounding fists, scooped her up blanket and all, used his back to shield her from wind and rain pouring through broken windows, and plunged into the apocalyptic storm.

The outside world was complete chaos. The wind nearly lifted them off their feet.

Rain hammered painfully down. Vision was a blur.

Jameson held Emma tight, his willpower and knowledge of the terrain carrying them through knee-deep floodwater and gale-force winds.

Just as they were about to cross a low-lying section toward town's solid shelter, an ear-splitting screech of twisting metal came from above—a huge, ancient billboard, torn loose by the typhoon's persistent assault, its bolts finally snapping, plummeted toward them with tremendous force!

In that split second, operating purely on combat-honed instinct, Jameson used every ounce of strength to shove Emma forward toward relative safety!

"BANG—!!!"

The billboard's full weight slammed squarely into Jameson's back and left shoulder as he couldn't completely dodge after pushing Emma clear!

"Ugh—!"

He couldn't even manage a complete scream. Blood sprayed from his mouth, mixing with rain, staining his chest red. The massive impact dropped him like a puppet with cut strings, heavily to his knees in murky floodwater, consciousness yanked instantly into boundless darkness.

The force sent Emma sprawling forward into the mud.

Still reeling, she looked back just in time to see the billboard strike Jameson, blood erupting from his mouth as he collapsed.

In that instant, countless memories of being hurt and abandoned by him violently collided with this moment of self-sacrifice—the overlap and conflict making her heart feel crushed by an invisible hand, nearly stopping.

Rescue workers finally arrived, frantically moving the billboard, trying to save unconscious Jameson.

Emma struggled up from the mud, watching that man lying in a pool of blood—face gray, completely motionless—her heart like it was being deep-fried in oil.

Love and hate, resentment and grief, fear and an indescribable tremor violently intertwined and struggled within her.

Finally, as rescue workers lifted Jameson onto a stretcher and loudly asked if she was coming along, she bit her lip hard, whirled around, and like so many times before, chose again to flee—staggering into the even more violent rain, leaving behind that chaos and that man whose fate hung in the balance, completely behind her.