The Greatest Showman #1465 – Wave Goodbye

"You…"

"You…"

"You speak first."

"You speak first."

"I…"

"I…"

The words collided, both halting mid-sentence, as if the universe had synchronized their actions. The silence between them lingered, filled with the unspoken. Their gaze locked, both seemingly trapped in the mirror of their own emotions, standing still in the quiet, neither moving nor leaving.

The pain from the splitting headache had faded into a distant memory, leaving only a hollow emptiness. Vaguely, his fingertips trembled, his toes fluttered. It was as if he were suspended in the clouds, untethered, his sense of reality fading. Was this real? Was it a dream? Or merely a fleeting thought?

He watched him.

And he, too, watched him.

A subtle sorrow began to bloom between them, neither speaking, but both feeling their hearts race. Was it panic or fear? Or perhaps joy, anxiety? Time itself seemed to stretch and bend, the boundary between them blurred. Around them, the darkness swelled, endless and all-encompassing.

"You should say goodbye."

The silence stretched, and a third voice cut through the stillness. It was not spoken, but resonated in the back of his mind. He and he turned in unison, their eyes meeting Heather Kee—Ross—materializing out of the ether.

Why was Heather here?

Why, of all times, did she appear now, again with Chu Jiashu?

Unanswered questions swirled in Renly's mind, but he soon realized his own discomfort. Without the mask of gentlemanly composure, without the pretense of the two separate worlds he had built, all of his emotions were laid bare. It was as though he had shed the armor that protected him, leaving himself vulnerable.

Heather stood before him, wearing a delicate white lace dress, her smile radiant, her eyes sparkling with life. She seemed untouched by the passage of time, forever frozen at seventeen. Nothing had changed. The years had left her face unchanged, her innocence and playfulness preserved in time.

Stopping five steps away, Heather waved with a grin. "Hey."

Renly tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He thought he had come to terms with it, thought he was prepared. But the familiar ache returned, blooming in his chest like a long-forgotten pain. He could only force a weak, bittersweet smile, nodding at her in acknowledgment.

Heather's smile widened as she sensed the weight of his gaze. "Renly, I'm fine. I promise, I'm fine now. Don't worry about me. The important thing right now is you. You're not okay. You're not okay at all."

"I'm fine," Renly whispered, the words tasting like lies. His smile wavered, strained, and the truth he couldn't suppress spilled out. Even without further words, the silence between them was full of unspoken understanding. He lowered his gaze, helpless.

"You should say goodbye."

"I've said goodbye before," Renly replied, his voice faltering with the weight of his own thoughts.

Heather wasn't in a rush. She gazed at him, waiting, and after a long pause, spoke again. "Renly, you know you haven't. If you had, you wouldn't be caught in the same endless loop, trapped in this nightmare. He is here, and I am here too."

Renly's gaze shifted between Chu Jiashu, standing on the other side, and Heather beside him. His eyes closed in painful resignation. "I've said goodbye more than once… but I don't know how to continue saying it. I don't know what comes next. I can't." He shook his head, each movement seemingly draining the last of his strength. "I can't."

Heather's voice softened, yet carried an undeniable truth. "The real goodbye isn't about farewell, but about acceptance. It's about embracing the past, remembering it, and reconciling with yourself. We need to make peace with who we are. I am here. He is here. We're always here."

Renly knew the truth of her words. No one can truly sever ties with the past. Every experience, every painful and joyful moment, every high and low, had shaped who he was. To try and reject that was to reject himself. Even if the pain felt overwhelming, it was part of his existence. The scars were real, and denying them only kept them festering.

What had happened with Chu Jiashu had defined him, shaped his path. The pain, the setbacks, the suffering—it was all buried deep within, only to resurface again and again. But they were not the sum of who he was. They were part of the journey, not the end.

The truth of this realization was dawning on Renly. His past was like a scar, not a wound. The pain had healed, but it would never disappear. The memories would always be there, both beautiful and painful, woven into the fabric of his being. And if he wanted to move forward, he needed to embrace that reality.

There was no turning back, no escaping it.

In the end, real transformation came from accepting all that had happened, the good and the bad. Like the character LeVinn Davis in Drunken Country Ballad, who, after years of struggle, learned to accept the solitude and the scars that came with it. His wounds began to heal only when he stopped fighting against them.

Renly wasn't sure what the future held, but he knew he couldn't keep running from it. He had to embrace all of it—his failures, his fears, his memories. Only then could he truly start anew.

And as he began to understand this, the weight on his chest began to lift.