Brandon stood outside the hospital room, watching through the glass as his mother underwent her morning check–up.
Her complexion looked much better than it had a few days ago–she was already able to sit upright against the pillows.
“Mr. Caldwell,” the attending physician approached him, flipping through the chart. “Your mother’s recovery has exceeded expectations. The cerebral hematoma has significantly subsided, and both her speech and motor skills are improving steadily.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Brandon gave a small nod, though his eyes remained fixed on the woman inside the
room.
Just then, the caregiver, Miss Pond, stepped out carrying a basin of water. “Mr. Caldwell, your mother just asked to see you.”
Brandon drew in a breath and pushed open the door.
His mother glanced over at him from the bed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, taking a seat by her side and picking up an orange from the nightstand.
Her lips twitched slightly. She watched his fingers work the peel for a few moments, then said abruptly, “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
Brandon froze. He hadn’t expected her to be so blunt. “Yeah. I’ve arranged for Miss Pond to take care of you -she’s very capable.”
“You’re leaving to find her, aren’t you?” There was a flicker of something complicated in her gaze.
Brandon didn’t respond right away. He finished peeling the orange, its citrus scent sharp and fleeting–like everything he’d once taken for granted.
Brandon placed the peeled orange on the tray beside her. “Yes, I’m going to find Evelyn.”
He looked her directly in the eyes.
“I’ve already lost too much time.” he said, his voice low but tirm. “I won’t lose her again.”
Mrs. Caldwell turned her head slowly toward the window. “I won’t stop you.
Three hours later, Brandon sat stiffly in his seat on a flight heading south.
The cabin lights had been dimmed. Most passengers had already fallen asleep.
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He stared out at the pitch–black sky, thoughts churning.
His assistant had tracked Evelyn’s last known location to a quiet seaside town down south.
He imagined what it would be like to see her again. Would she still be angry? Would she even agree to see
him?
The plane jolted slightly as it hit some turbulence. Brandon gripped the armrest tighter.
“We’ll go back… to how it used to be,” His whisper barely reached his own ears.
The stars outside blinked faintly beyond the plane window. Brandon watched them in silence, chasing hope at thirty thousand feet.
The descent, baggage claim, cab ride, hotel check–in–all of it passed in a blur.
By early morning, he was already standing in front of the old riverside house.
He knocked once. Then again–louder this time. Nothing.
Frowning, he knocked again, louder. “Evelyn?”
A door creaked open next door. An elderly woman peeked out.
“Looking for Miss Parker?” she asked. “She’s gone. Moved out a few days ago.”
Brandon’s heart skipped. “Do you know where she went?”
“No idea,” the woman shook her head. “She left with that young man who always stopped by. Tall, polite… always carried books.”
The words hit him like a punch to the chest. Young man? Could it be…?
He forced himself to remain calm. “Ma’am, do you know what direction they went? Did Evelyn leave any contact information?”
The woman tapped her chin. “She used to frequent that bridal boutique down the block. Pretty little place. You might try asking there.”
Brandon thanked her and immediately headed to the boutique.
Behind the counter, the shop owner looked up. “Looking for something in particular?”
“I’m looking for Evelyn Parker. I heard she used to work here.‘
The woman’s expression shifted, suddenly guarded. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m her…” Brandon hesitated for a beat. “Her husband.‘
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He said it finally, but the word tasting strange in his mouth.
“Ohhh.” The woman drew out the sound, giving him a long, assessing look.
She turned to rearrange some fabric. “She left with that young man, Ryan. Said they were starting a studio together in the city. Didn’t leave a number or a new address.”
Just as Brandon was about to press further, the shop door opened with a cheerful chime.
“Mrs. Wonder, I’m here for that last batch of buttons-” a familiar male voice rang out.
The bell above the shop door jingled, and Brandon turned sharply–only to find himself staring into a pair of familiar, steady eyes.
Ryan Hays looked momentarily stunned, but quickly composed himself. “Well, Mr. Caldwell. What a
surprise.”
He held up a swatch book. “You here for a custom suit?”
Brandon’s throat felt tight. “Where is Evelyn?”
Ryan placed the fabric samples on the counter, his movements relaxed. “She’s doing great. Nothing to
worry about.”
“I need to see her.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ryan said with a slight smile. “She’s busy. Just got the studio up and
running. She’s also preparing for the upcoming design competition.”
“Competition?” Brandon cut in.
“Yeah–the National Bridal Design Contest. Didn’t she mention it?” Ryan feigned surprise. “Oh, right.
You’re divorced now.”
Brandon’s fists clenched and loosened by his side. “Take me to her.”
Ryan shook his head. “That’s up to her, not me.”
Brandon stepped forward, voice sharp. “Who do you think you are, deciding for her?”
“I’m someone she never had to hide from,” Ryan replied calmly, his eyes unwavering. “I’m the one who stayed when she needed people the most. I didn’t abandon her.” Then came the sound of the doorbell again -soft, clear, and piercing,
“Ryan, are you done yet?”
The voice was unmistakably hers.
Chapter 18
