After New Year's, in the dream, Lihua's life was no longer overshadowed by the dark clouds of the past. The pain and fractures left by Haitao's affair, the fear during the SARS outbreak—all seemed slowly worn down by time, leaving only faint traces. Days flowed like a sunlit river, calm yet warm.
Haitao remained busy at the hospital, attending to patients and managing daily routines, but he always brought a sense of stability home at night. The household returned to its usual rhythm, and the children gradually grew up.
Tingting was preparing for her middle school entrance exams. Faced with the stirrings of adolescent romance, her parents offered gentle guidance without excessive interference. In the mundane flow of everyday life, the family slowly regained order and warmth.
Within the dream, Sabrina experienced Lihua's perspective, absorbing every ordinary moment: sunlight spilling across the kitchen table in the morning, Lihua preparing breakfast while watching Haitao organize hospital documents; the afternoon breeze drifting through the open windows as the children hunched over their homework, occasionally glancing up with a smile; the soft glow of the living room at night, a peaceful, intimate family atmosphere.
Life was subtly shifting. Haitao learned to balance his work and family, Lihua learned to navigate past trauma with present tenderness. Small conflicts and unpredictable moments still arose, but like ripples on a calm pond, they spread gently and were smoothed over by the quiet warmth of daily life.
Time moved slowly, and the future remained uncertain: Tingting would face challenges in academics and emotion, with her parents guiding rather than controlling; Lihua and Haitao would accumulate understanding and tacit coordination in their daily life, and the family would continue to progress steadily.
The dream's time flowed and intertwined with reality. Sabrina realized clearly that this was both a way to experience Lihua's life and a mirror to her own inner world. Every breath, every flicker of emotion, suggested that there might be a subtle link between dream and reality—that someday, her intersection with the real world could be even more tangible and complex than what she experienced in the dream.
The dream gradually became warm, like sunlight filtering through mist into a courtyard. Life's details were magnified, each moment teaching Sabrina about growth, release, and anticipation. She realized that some scars never completely vanish, but the future still carries hope, slowly unfolding.
At that moment, Sabrina remembered Louise from the book she had read—time was no longer a straight line from past to present to future, but a whole structure in which beginnings and endings existed simultaneously. She could "recall" the future as naturally as she recalled the past.
The connection between reality and dreams embodied this non-linear concept of time. Every breath, every emotion, was simultaneously past and future.
February's fashion show approached, and Clara devoted almost all her energy to the studio. Lights often burned late into the night; fabric spread across long tables, scissors gliding across cloth, the low hum of sewing machines blending with the whir of the air conditioner, all weaving together the tapestry of her dreams.
This time, her designs reflected a noticeable change and earned high praise from her partners. Gone were the subdued blacks, whites, and grays of previous years. She incorporated ocean blue, coral red, and sunset orange—colors inspired by Spain, by the evening skies, by the light streaming before Santiago Cathedral. That journey had quietly seeped into her work.
Amid the flurry, Clara discovered she was unexpectedly pregnant.
That day, she sat by the studio window as sunlight poured onto the floor. Looking down at the small test stick in her hand, her heartbeat quickened at the faint line that had appeared. Life was quietly growing inside her.
The wedding, originally scheduled for May, had to be moved up. Everything suddenly became urgent and pressing.
Sabrina almost instinctively took charge of the wedding preparations. Plants, flowers, and decorations were carefully arranged, each item creating a warm, intimate space for Clara.
Clara immediately called her aunt, hoping she and her uncle could attend—the gentle presence that had guided her throughout her upbringing. But due to their status, their visas were denied, curtly and without explanation. Clara tried to accept reality, yet the disappointment lingered quietly in her heart.
On the wedding day, sunlight bathed the ancient cobblestones and the flowerbeds outside the church. Clara wore the gown her mother had designed for her years ago—the original sketches preserved carefully, now brought to life by Clara herself. Every stitch, every inch of fabric carried her own touch. On the hem, she added a subtle embroidery in bright hues, reminiscent of the Spanish sunset, gently flickering.
Though her aunt could not attend, Clara realized that some people, even absent, remained in her memories, in every step that led her to who she had become.
She lifted her head and walked to the altar. Her steps were steady, her breathing calm, as if she were moving along the intersection of past and future.
Music swelled, and she advanced with deliberate grace. Light filtered through the stained-glass windows onto her gown. Life continued, love endured, and she stood in her moment—gentle, unwavering, and wholly present.