The days drifted by like petals on a quiet stream.slowly, gently, yet constantly moving forward but now seems like stream is moving to the river.
After Nathan's visit, life became quietly busy for Anaya. Every morning, she checked her emails with a mix of nervousness and wonder. There were decisions to be made.., choosing a cover page for her debut novel, deciding on the font, the final manuscript polish, even something as simple and yet symbolic as her pen name's signature style.
She practiced writing "Ann" again and again on scraps of paper. Sometimes cursive, sometimes neat and upright. In the end, she settled on a handwritten swirl, soft and slightly tilted to the right. just like her hopeful, a little uncertain, but flowing with warmth.
On the other hand, Anaya decided to sent a gift to Mr. Brain in the occasion of new year.
She wanted to give him something. Something gentle. Something joyful. Something an elder like him and any elder could feel peace.
Anaya decided to to paint something for him.
So, she took out her old canvas, it seems bigger size and her box of paints. And made arrangements to paint in the balcony.Thr evening felt familiar like something she is approaching.
This time,seems like it wasn't a portrait. She started to paint.
It was a scene of soul and season, like a painting wrapped in emotion, memory, and hope.
At the center of the canvas, she painted a small countryside tea house nestled between flowering trees. The house had warm, orange-tinted windows glowing in soft light, and a thin wisp of smoke curling from its chimney.. inviting, gentle, and calm.
Around it, nature bloomed.
To the right, a golden tree stood tall, its leaves fluttering like whispers of sunlight. Below it, a wooden bench sat under its shade, facing a distant serene lake, where swans glided on mirrored water. A small path, lined with cobblestones and scattered autumn petals led from the house to the lake, like a slow journey toward peace.
Above, the sky melted from a dusky lavender into deep night blue, where soft white stars began to appear, one by one. A crescent moon curved gently above the trees, cradling the quiet world below it.
There were no people in the painting just a warm house, nature in harmony, and a soft sky. so that anyone who looked at it could imagine themselves in it.
A place of return. A place of rest. A place that felt like home, no matter where you were in the world.
At the bottom corner, Anaya signed in delicate script..,
"For new beginnings, and the warmth we leave behind. – Ann"
She stepped back and stared at the finished painting.
Her fingers were smudged in green and gold, and her eyes shimmered with quiet pride. This wasn't just a gift. It was a message a gentle whisper across miles and time.
After placing the final brushstroke on the painting, she wrote a letter to Mr.Brain that, "Uncle.. It's really a good news. I decided to tell you through mail. But, i just want to surprise you. Happy new year Uncle. I wish you'll be happy and healthy every day. My novel is about to publish on Jan 1st. Oh, when you read this, it'll be already Jan 1st. I'm really happy to keet you. All these things are happened because of you. If you've not gave me the part-time work. I don't know, these things will be happened or not. Bit, Thank you Uncle. And I'll definitely meet you in this May." She finished it.
The next day..
Anaya carefully wrapped it in thick brown paper and tied it with a deep red ribbon. Tucked inside was a small note written in her neatest hand, She sealed the package and addressed it to:
Name: Brain Sterling
Street Address: Via Giulia, 79
City: Roma (Rome)
Postal Code: 00186
Country: Italy
As the courier drove away with it, something inside her felt complete.
But there was no time to slow down. The novel was finished. Edits were done. Cover approved. And now, only one week remained until January 1st. her official debut as "Ann," the writer.
She found herself constantly checking the calendar. Watching every second tick by.
Waiting like her eyes would bear fruit, as if longing alone could bring the day closer.
That night, sleep eluded her.
Her thoughts circled back to Yu Chen, to the reason she ever dared to write in the first place. She wondered what he was doing. Was he in a shoot? Was he thinking of anyone? Would he ever read her words?
That's when a message popped up from Nathan.
"Since your novel takes place in New York, we'll launch it from our New York branch. Hope that's okay. I'm already flying there. Also, I need you to create an author account on social media platforms. it'll help build your audience. I'll send every detail,then you can post updates, teasers, anything. Don't worry, your face Don't need to be shown."
Anaya blinked at the message, smiling to herself at how casually Nathan revealed something so big.
She quickly typed her reply:
"Okk sir… I think I never asked properly, but I didn't know you were part of an international publishing house. That's… amazing. Thank you for everything."
She set her phone down, still holding the smile. Then opened her laptop.
The night became a blur of typing and designing. She created her author profile under the name Ann, choosing a quiet, poetic header image of a starry sky above a quiet city. Something that felt like her.
She uploaded her book cover.
Then, hesitating only for a second, she posted a short caption under it:
"Sometimes, the closest people are the ones we can never reach. This story is for them. For the love that lingers even from afar."
As hours passed, she added a few more heart-wrenching lines, quotes from her novel that bled from her heart into words.
"I waited even when I told myself to stop."
"There is no goodbye when love is quiet."
Each post felt like a whisper in a storm. quiet, fragile, but alive.
Like that days drifted..
Its already.. January 1st..
The day finally arrived.
Anaya woke up with sunlight painting gold across her bed. Her chest thudded with excitement she could barely contain. Her phone buzzed.
Yu Chen had posted.
It was a New Year's message on Weibo, just a few simple words, thanking fans for their support and wishing everyone happiness. But to Anaya, it felt like the first breeze of spring.
Even if he never knew her, she knew why this day mattered.
She got ready and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The world felt new, quiet, and full of promise. With soft steps and steady breath, Anaya walked toward a small church tucked at the end of the lane.
Though not a Christian, she believed in the kindness of every faith. She believed in the sacredness of beginnings.
She lit a candle inside the peaceful chapel and whispered a silent prayer.
She didn't know what would happen from here. But she knew this:
Today, she was Ann. A writer.
And today, she took one more step toward the dream that once seemed unreachable.
After, Anaya stepped out of the church, the winter breeze brushed her cheeks, gentle and full of promise. The morning light filtered through the clouds like the soft touch of something sacred, a quiet blessing for the day that had just begun.
Clutching the warmth of her coat tighter around her, she made her way back home, her thoughts still floating in whispered prayers and faraway dreams.
But as she approached the doorstep of restaurant, something unexpected caught her eye.
A parcel.
It sat on the floor, neat and firm, wrapped in brown packaging paper, sealed with care and stamped with a bold "New York" at the top.
Her breath hitched.
"From New York…?" she whispered. Her fingers trembled as she bent down to pick it up. "Maybe… it's from Mr. Nathan?"
She hurried inside, the door clicking softly behind her, heart pounding in her chest. She gently tore open the seal, fingers shaking as she unfolded the flaps of the box.
And then... she froze.
Inside lay a book.
Her book.
Bound with a velvet matte cover, embossed title shining under the light, and her pen name, "Ann" etched elegantly beneath.
Tears pricked her eyes. But then something else fell out, a letter, neatly folded and tucked inside a thick envelope.
She opened it.
At the top, it read:
"From: Starbridge Publishing house, New York"
Anaya's hands flew to her mouth.
Her knees nearly buckled.
"Starbridge House...?" she gasped. "No… no way…"
She stared at the name again, eyes wide, her voice shaking into a whisper of disbelief.
"Oh God… it's the biggest publishing house in America…"
Her mind spun.
She remembered seeing that name in bookstores, in the spines of novels she treasured, on the websites she'd visit late at night, dreaming.. always dreaming.
"It was my favorite one…" she murmured. "I've dreamed of publishing with them. But… I thought…"
Her words faded into a choked laugh.
"I thought it was a foolish dream. Like… a toad trying to reach a high branch. Out of reach. A daydream."
But now… my dream was is in my hands.
Real. Solid. Bound in paper and ink.
She looked down at the cover again. her story, her words, her name.
She couldn't breathe.
And then, without thinking, she pinched her arm.. hardly.
"Ouch!" she yelped, jumping.
"Still here. Its real." She whispered with a little laugh.
She clutched the book to her chest and let out a scream.
"I can't take it! I really can't take it!" she laughed and cried at once, spinning in her little room like a girl in a fairy tale. "This is… this is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me! Oh man… oh my god… I feel like I'm gonna faint!"
She flopped onto her bed, still holding the novel tightly, her heart pounding like a celebration drum.
Outside, the sky remained quiet.
But inside her world already setting fireworks off and exploded.
Her dream, once a quiet secret, was no longer just a wish. It had turned into something tangible. Something in print.
And this... this was only the beginning.
She is still in that shock that rocked her..