Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows

Feeling a little embarrassed after saying that, I turned on my heel and bolted away.
What I missed was her standing there, stunned, her eyes slowly welling up. After a long pause, she finally murmured with a raspy voice, "Lana, I love
you too."
I hurried back to my room, washed up in a flash, and flopped onto my bed. My mind was whirling, but sleep quickly took over, and I was out cold in no
time.
...
Once everyone had left, Marie's lively spirit crumbled, leaving her looking drained and disheartened. She wandered over to the old oak tree and stood
there for what felt like ages.
The wind chime, forgotten and left to the mercy of the weather, was coated in dust. She reached out to grab it, but a sudden gust of wind beat her to
it, bending the branch before she could. The ceramic wind chime plummeted to the ground, shattering into pieces.

She blinked, and tears started to fall unexpectedly, as if a piece of her heart had been forcibly carved out.
In her mind, two voices were at odds. One tried to soothe her, saying, "It's been hanging there untouched for ages; it probably doesn’t matter
anymore." The other voice, however, nudged her, reminding her through the fog of fading memories, "It was once so important to you."
On her tiptoes, she attempted an awkward little dance, forgetting the steps more than once. Suddenly, she murmured to herself:
"See, I've almost forgotten everything. What's the point of living if you can't remember anything?"
Over the years, she’s worried about her kids, so she forced herself to get treatment, swallowing pill after pill while secretly losing clumps of hair. On
the outside, it seemed like she was getting better, but really, she was just forgetting, slowly letting go of those painful memories.
People who seem calm are often living in quiet turmoil. She had fooled everyone but herself. Bit by bit, those memories became a part of her, and
losing them meant losing herself too.
Her pale fingers brushed against the leaves, now ragged from pests. "I'm sorry, I didn’t notice you were sick."
She found an old bottle of pesticide in the house and carefully sprayed the ailing oak tree, then took the half-full bottle back inside.
...

Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows

Chapter 47
Under the Veil I Rule
Chapter 305
In the room, she lay quietly on the bed, fully dressed, with empty pill bottles filling the trash bin. As the intense physical pain set in, she began to
hallucinate.
In a daze, she heard someone calling her name, "Marie, Marie." The voice was familiar, a name no one had used in years. The person in her memory
had died on a rainy night five years ago.
There had been no funeral, no gravestone, not even a memorial.
She opened her eyes, and through the hazy white light, saw a tall man walking toward her, his features still sharp and handsome despite the years
apart.
"Mason, is it you? Have you come to take me?" she asked, her lips curving into a slow smile as she reached out toward him. But in reality, the room
was empty. Her arm gradually lost its strength and fell, and the woman on the bed slowly closed her eyes.
The door remained shut, with no one entering or leaving all night.
The essence of life seemed to be an endless tale of sadness and solitude. When someone starts reminiscing about another, it's often a sign that their
time together is winding down. Sadly, I didn’t grasp this truth back then.
It was just another ordinary morning when Mom fell asleep and never woke up again.
Reading History