When Dahlia heard about the three-year mourning period, her grip on the wheelchair''s armrests tightened instinctively. This was something she hadn''t seening. Even in death, that old witch could still mess with her ns for another


    three years.


    Themotion reached Evelyn too, and her expression turned noticeably colder. Brooks sensed the change immediately and squeezed her hand a little tighter. He leaned in, concern etched in his eyes, whispering softly, "Evelyn." He worried that the affectionate disy between Charles and Dahlia might stir up old wounds for her.


    Charlie''s death was a wound in Evelyn''s heart that never quite healed. Charles and Dahlia—the ones responsible for Charlie''s demise were the people she despised the most. They had pushed her to the brink more times than she could count. It was hard for her to ept that they could still live happily after what they''d done.


    But Evelyn managed a soft, "I''m fine," as she turned to Brooks with a faint smile. Her smile was slight, but her demeanor was steady. She wasn''t rattled by the sight of them. Seeing her like this, Brooks felt both relieved and heartbroken.


    He thought back to six months ago when an unexpected call came in from an unknown number out of town. His heart raced as he answered it. Not many people had his private number, and nobody would dare share it without his say- so. The first person that popped into his head was Evelyn.


    It had been over a year since Evelyn had fallen into the river. Common sense told him that in such harsh conditions, long past the best time for a rescue, Evelyn couldn''t have survived. Yet, without a body, a part of him refused to ept she was gone.


    When he answered the phone, hearing Evelyn''s familiar voice say "Brooks" brought tears to his eyes. She was alive. Ovee with joy, he immediately arranged a business trip, handed his tasks to an assistant, and drove for hours to find her.


    When he finally saw her, standing there smiling gently at him, he rushed forward and wrapped her in a tight embrace, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Feeling her warmth was the confirmation he needed-Evelyn was truly alive.


    "Evelyn, if you were alive, why didn''t you reach out?" he asked, unable to hold back.


    She exined she had been receiving treatment. He felt a pang of guilt for questioning her.


    "I''m okay now. My illness is cured," she reassured him with a smile. She really did seem brighter, and his hearDeased. Nothing mattered more than seeing her well.


    That night, Evelyn decided to cook. Despite her telling him to rx on the couch, he rolled up his sleeves and joined her in the kitchen. She was washing vegetables when he came in, quickly pulling down her sleeves. But he''d already seen.


    He gently took her hand, rolled up her sleeves again, exposing the scars lining her wrists-remnants past battles. Some were deep, others not as much, but each one told a story of struggle. His heart


    of


    twisted painfully.


    Without having witnessed it firsthand, he could imagine the battles Evelyn had fought behind her calm words about being cured. How could he not feel for her?


    "I''m sorry I wasn''t there sooner," he murmured, pulling her into his arms.


    "It''s all behind me now," Evelyn whispered. "I''m not alone anymore. I have my mom..." That''s when he learned she had reunited with her mother.