The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 352

Back when Franco was blind, nearly five years had already slipped by. Three years of marriage had gone faster than she could have imagined, but to Petty, those days felt like they belonged to some other lifetime.

She remembered that afternoon so clearly. She’d made Franco a cup of tea and sat on the couch in his room, flipping through one of his old magazines. He used to read everything, every kind of book you could think of, before the accident. He always remembered absolutely everything he read.

It was a foreign geography magazine. She wasn’t even really paying attention at first, just idly turning pages, but then she landed on a photo that pulled her in. There was a lake, so crystal clear it looked unreal, like it belonged in a dream or a storybook. The thing that hooked her most—the lake was the shape of a crescent moon.

She stared at it, completely caught up in the idea. Clutching the magazine, she tried to picture herself standing at the shore of that shimmering crescent lake. “Wow, this is gorgeous,” she couldn’t help but say.

Franco didn’t look up. He sipped his tea and said, “If you want to read, just read. Why are you yelling?”

Petty laughed, kneeling on the couch and leaning closer to him. She held the magazine out between them. “Look at me… I’m acting like I’ve never seen the world before.”

She instantly wished she could take the words back. It had only been two weeks since the car crash that took Franco’s sight, and it still didn’t feel real. Sometimes, she looked in his direction and waited for those sharp, clever eyes to lock onto hers, just like before.

Franco’s hand paused on his teacup. “What is it?”

She told him the country’s name and said, “There’s this lake, shaped just like a crescent moon. It’s so unusual, and so pretty.”

As she spoke, her fingers traced over the picture in the magazine. Suddenly, Franco reached over. His hand, still warm from the tea, brushed against hers.

Petty froze. The touch sent a jolt through her. She snatched her hand back right away.

He traced over the page himself, then asked, “Do you like it?” His voice gave away nothing.

The sand stung, bringing tears to her eyes. She blinked, looking up, and Franco’s face filled her blurry vision, close and serious.

A gentle breath of wind seemed to sweep across her face, and when she blinked again, the discomfort faded.

Next thing she knew, she was in the yacht’s cockpit with Franco pulling her inside. He kept her close, his grip never loosening, as he started up the engines. One hand was on the controls, the other still curled tightly around her wrist.

It all felt so familiar. It took her back to the last time she’d been swept into something she couldn’t escape, tangled up in danger at sea, and Franco had shown up—taking charge of the yacht, just like this.

“Want to give it a try?” Franco suddenly asked.