Until We Met Again ( Rowan and Johnson )
Chapter 39

Chapter 39 

Alright, Karla didn’t actually spend much time digging. She simply snagged a passerby on the sidewalk and quickly ascertained that it was the year 1972. 

That meant four years had passed since she last saw Rowan, who would now be–16 years old. 

At Rowan’s age, he’d be college–bound. Karla then remembered the clues from that shared photograph and the line Rowan had penned behind the picture frame–Apt 302 at 17 St. Rose’s Street. She inquired about the location. To her luck, a kindhearted gentleman knew exactly where it was and pointed her in the right direction. Karla was genuinely grateful. 

After some searching, Karla finally discovered that St. Rose’s Street was in a residential area, with towering buildings stacked closely together. The balconies and windows of two adjacent buildings were so near, one could practically leap across. 

The building at number 17 that Karla sought was a quirky, L–shaped structure, with six floors and a large arched entrance. The keystone above the doorway was adorned with stained glass of irregular shapes, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the pavement when the sunlight hit. A sycamore tree stood outside the entrance, its green leaves scattered on the ground after a night battered by wind and rain. 

Following the landlord’s direction, Karla arrived at apartment 302. The door was securely locked. It was only after she got there that a thought struck her. 

Did Rowan really live here? 

on campus. 

Karla realized she couldn’t be sure. Rowan at this age would likely be staying and that made the possibility of him renting an apartment off–campus quite slim. And even if he did rent a place, who’s to say he didn’t move in a couple of years later?  sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

While pondering, Karla absentmindedly slipped her hands into her pockets, only to feel something hard and unexpected. Pulling it out, she found a key. 

“Right, why not give it a try?” she mumbled, comparing the key to the lock. If the key fit, it would prove that Rowan indeed lived here. 

Karla inserted the key into the lock, surprised to find it was a match. She turned it, and the door opened. But just as she prepared to push the door open, Karla suddenly stopped. Without a second glance, she closed the door again. 

Even if they were acquainted, it was rude to barge into someone’s home uninvited. Karla respected his privacy and wouldn’t intrude. 

Just confirming that he lived here was enough. Karla had all the time in the world to wait for his return. So she settled down by the door, her back against it, legs crossed in a casual pose, and whipped out her phone. 

There was no signal, of course, but she could still kill time playing some offline games like Candy Crush. 

However, as she walted from afternoon until 11 PM, there was still no sign of him. 

Karla was bored to death. After yawning countless times, Karla finally let go of all concerns and, with a nonchalant slouch, dozed off against the door. 

December heralds the winter season. Although it was early in the month, the night brought a bone–chilling breeze. The trees lining the streets rustled in the wind, setting the tone for the winter atmosphere. 

Leaves danced and twirled to the ground, and in the blink of an eye, the sidewalk was blanketed with fallen foliage. 

It was then that a bicycle, under the dim glow of the street lamps, made its way down the road, its tires whispering over the leaves. 

The young man on the bike was dressed in a clean white shirt, buttoned all the way up to the top, neat and tidy, with the hem tucked into the waistband of his pants, and the belt fastened to the last notch. His waist was slim and slender. Beneath the black trousers, his legs were straight and long. From the force he exerted on the pedals, it was evident that although the young man was slender, he was by no means weak. 

He controlled the bike with one hand on the handlebars, while the other cradled a paper bag filled with groceries and a French baguette from the supermarket. 

He glided into the entrance of number 17, the advantage of his long legs apparent as he easily came to a stop, steadying the bike with a foot on the ground. 

As Rowan parked his bike at the entrance and walked inside with his groceries, the landlord, a plump woman with curly hair and a kindly face, called out to him from where she sat watching TV at the front desk. The woman informed him that a lady had been looking for him, waiting at his apartment door since 1 PM, and she hadn’t left yet. 

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.