The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 228

The sound of waves washed over everything, mixing with laughter drifting from the crowds, but this little corner felt different—quiet and almost peaceful.

Petty still didn’t really get why Malcom had asked her not to light a sky lantern for the child she’d lost. There was a sadness inside her when she thought about it, a soft ache that never quite went away.

She watched Malcom tap quietly on his phone, his fingers moving with careful intent until he showed her the message: [I forget where I heard it.]

Some superstition, probably. But when Malcom said something, both she and Aaron just naturally trusted him. Neither of them needed further explanation. It simply made sense.

Petty glanced from the lantern in her lap to the marker in her hand. After a moment, she made up her mind. “Alright, then I’ll use this one for a blessing.”

She wrote slow and steady, every character deliberate and full of hope: [May everyone I care about stay safe.]

She looked over at Malcom and held the marker out to him. “Do you want to write something, too?”

It hit her right after she said it—Malcom wasn’t exactly the type to join in on these soft, sentimental rituals. He always seemed so cool and distant, a little removed from the world around him.

But he surprised her. He reached out and took the marker, his long fingers curling around it with a certain strength.

As he crouched down next to her, Petty noticed it for the first time. “You’re left-handed?” She smiled, finding it oddly charming.

He nodded, then began to write his own words right beside hers: [May we always meet again, year after year.]

His handwriting was bold and sure, each stroke confident, like the roots of an ancient pine holding steady against the wind.

Petty looked at the words he’d added, a line from a classic poem—one meant for the kind of promise between a wife and husband, honest and forever. Malcom didn’t have anyone like that, not that she knew of. But maybe it was just a wish for good things in the new year, nothing more. Sometimes a hope like that is enough between friends.

“Let’s send it up together,” Petty said quietly. She got to her feet and brushed off her jeans.

Malcom lifted the lantern carefully, and Petty placed both her hands on its sides, steadying it while the flame grew. Together, they watched as it lifted up, floating slowly, orange and glowing, into the dark sky above.

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