Chapter 20: Wishing Hill
Alex received VIP treatment at my parents‘ house.
The next day, my mom urged me to show him around.
“Take Alex out to see something! Staying at home is so boring.”
There wasn’t much to see in my small hometown, except for Wishing Hill, a scenic overlook with an old lighthouse that had become something of a local landmark. According to town legend, wishes made at the top came true–especially those written on the colorful wooden tags sold at the gift shop and hung from the
ancient oak tree near the cliff’s edge.
just as I was about to leave with Alex, Jake showed up again.
“Mind if I join you?” he smiled. “We’re friends of many years, after all.”
He was so thick–skinned. With my parents watching, I couldn’t completely reject him, so I reluctantly let him tag along with Alex and me up the hill.
It was the height of summer. The trail was lush with vegetation, the air fragrant with the crisp scent of pine and wildflowers.
My mood improved slightly. I excitedly pulled Alex up the winding path, pointing out familiar sights from my childhood. When we reached the lighthouse, we paused to take in the spectacular ocean view.
By the time I was done exploring the small lighthouse museum, I found Alex at the gift shop, writing on one of the wooden wish tags.
“What did you wish for?” I curiously peeked over, seeing he had carefully written: [To grow old together.]
My heart skipped a beat as he handed me a tag: “Want to make a wish too?”
I wrote my wish, but instead of hanging it on the oak tree with the others, I walked toward a quieter corner of the grounds, where a smaller, less popular tree stood. Beside me, Jake suddenly seemed to remember something, his face turning pale. After a brief search among the weathered tags, I quickly found the wish I had hung years ago.
It was from when Jake and I visited after our high school graduation, when we
were eighteen.
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Jake hadn’t hung one. When I asked him why, he had scoffed: “I don’t believe in
this tourist trap nonsense. If I want something, I get it myself. I don’t need luck or
superstition.”
So I wrote one myself and hung it in a secluded spot where few visitors looked. Jake had asked me then: “What did you wish for? Getting into an Ivy League
school?”
I had just smiled and shaken my head.
Years later, the once–bright blue tag had faded to a pale gray, the writing slightly blurred by countless rainstorms and winter snows.
But the youthful passion was still visible:
[I hope to be with Jake forever.]
I yanked down the tag and threw it violently over the cliff’s edge, watching as it disappeared into the crashing waves below.
Then I hung up my new wish on the main oak tree for everyone to see:
[Hope my new book becomes a hit and my career soars]
The wind from the ocean caught the tag, making it dance among hundreds of others–all those hopes and dreams spinning in the summer breeze.
Alex wrapped his arm around my waist. “Ready to go?”
I nodded, feeling lighter somehow. On our way down, I noticed Jake had stayed behind, staring out at the water where my old wish had disappeared.
“Isn’t he coming?” Alex asked.
I shrugged. “Let’s not wait.”
Jake didn’t follow us down the hill.
I didn’t think much of it. That night, Alex and I flew back to New York.
Whether it was the wish coming true or not, ever since those premium votes came in, my story’s metrics hadn’t slowed down. My editor kept praising me: “Your romance stories always seemed to lack a certain edge, with such passive heroines. But this switch to a female empowerment narrative flows so well. They’re offering $1.3 million for the rights. Since it’s your first deal, the price isn’t high, but
2/3
what do you think?”
I excitedly rolled around on my bed hugging my pillow. After sharing the good news with Alex, I was about to write some more when the doorbell rang.
Looking through the peephole, I saw Jake.
He looked exhausted, his face flushed, with dark circles under his eyes- completely disheveled.
Surprised, I opened the door: “…What happened to you?”
Jake was always confident and composed. When had I ever seen him looking so
wretched?
Jake tremblingly raised his hand. A faded wooden tag was clutched in his grip, dripping with seawater.
“I found your wish.”
As he spoke, his eyes slowly reddened, his voice hoarse:
“I searched the rocks below the cliff for hours. Took two days, but I found it.”
“Autumn, I found the wish tag. Can you come back to me too?”
“I’m sorry, Jake,” I looked at him sincerely. “I really only see you as a friend now.” “Stop wasting your time on me.”
Those were the exact words he had once said to me.
Being as smart as he was, he must have remembered, which is why tears suddenly fell from his eyes.
I retreated back into my warm, well–lit apartment, closing the door, completely
shutting out the last glimmer of hope in his eyes.
