Bye-Bye Jerk, Hello Mr. Right by Rosie Steppe

Chapter 999

Hayden gave her an unwavering sense of security and endless emotional support. If depression ever tried to knock on her door, he wouldn’t even let it in.

He carefully laid out the couplet paper and prepared the ink for her. He even set up a camera on the side, ready to document the moment.

“What should I write?” Keira asked, staring at the blank red banners in front of her.

“Whatever you want. Anything is fine,” Hayden replied easily, the picture of a doting husband, fully embracing her freedom to decide.

Keira glanced around the courtyard, at the people sitting alone, lost in thought. A wave of emotion washed over her, and inspiration struck.

She picked up the brush and wrote the couplet:

“Though the courtyard holds no feast, it warms the heart.

As long as the heart seeks the sun, warmth is everywhere.”

The horizontal inscription: “You and I Welcome Spring.”

When Keira finished, she looked up at Hayden. He was smiling.

Keira frowned instantly. “You’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

poet’s soul,” he said as he gently took the brush from her hand. “And your calligraphy–it’s surprisingly

Later, when she lived with the Johnston family, they asked if she wanted to continue learning, but back then, she was just a guest in their house. She knew her place

had read, the skills she had learned–all those traces remained. Even now, when she picked up a brush again, her hand still remembered. It wasn’t professional–level, but

camera and handed it to her. She realized he

didn’t want you to feel like you missed out,”

understood her.

ink dried, they stepped outside to put up the couplets.

wanted to be part of something, but the courtyard guests, who had been sitting in

lively group effort. A young girl even mentioned that she knew how to cut

tools for her, and she got to work. Her hands were skilled, and the patterns she cut were intricate and beautiful. The most surprising piece was a silhouette of Keira, pregnant, leaning against

BON

in love with

loneliness and melancholy from before

idea suddenly struck

have time, why don’t we make dumplings together for New

hesitated, exchanging uncertain

push. “My wife loves dumplings. Just think of it as

that, everyone

some prepared the filling, others rolled the wrappers,

people started sharing bits of their lives–hardships they hadn’t spoken about before, the struggles of spending the New Year away from home. But as they spoke, their burdens seemed to

time they finished, evening had arrived.