Chapter 7
He tossed his coat onto the sofa and instinctively glanced at the coffee table.
Something was missing.
The small animal figurines that he used to scoff at-calling them childish-were gone.
And for some reason, that empty space gnawed at his chest.
Later, lying in bed, he tossed and turned restlessly.
Unable to sleep, he opened the drawer of the nightstand.
Melatonin patches. Band-aids. Stomach medicine.
Everything meticulously organized, just like Elena used to do.
The woman who had always existed in the background-quiet, attentive, never demanding-was
gone.
It felt like I had fallen into a long dream.
In it, the Carter family hadn’t gone bankrupt.
My sister was still alive, calling me “Lena” and tugging at my sleeve.
My parents were still there, voices warm, the house full of laughter.
But when I woke, there was nothing but a piercing ache in my chest and a cold that wouldn’t leave my bones.
My mind floated in and out of consciousness-sometimes alert, sometimes drifting.
When I finally opened my eyes again, I saw a tall figure standing quietly nearby.
“You’re awake.”
That voice made my heart skip.
I blinked. My gaze met the pair of eyes I hadn’t seen in years.
“Owen…”
He came over quickly, concern written on his face.
“Miss,” he greeted softly.
I recognized him immediately.
4
“Don’t call me that,” I said faintly. “The Carter family went bankrupt a long time ago.”
Ten years ago, he was just the son of our family driver-a quiet, humble student who wore faded school uniforms and sat in the back of our class.
Now, he wore a tailored suit. The gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose reflected calm intelligence.
He had become a man who stood tall in any room.
Sensing my discomfort, he lowered his voice.
“Rest for now,” he said gently. “I’ll come see you later.”
1:49 pm D
When we met again, he stood by my bed with a team of doctors.
The attending physician’s expression was grave.
“Miss Carter’s intestines have partially necrotized. We need to operate immediately.”
Owen’s face turned pale.
I simply looked out the window at the leaves falling in slow spirals.
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’m not afraid.”
The surgery was a success. But during the slow, painful recovery, I often sat by the window ir silence.
I had lost everything.
And now I didn’t even know how to face this man who once needed my help, but now seemed sc far above me.
Until one day, the stillness of the yard was broken.
Servants bustled about, carefully arranging pots of rare flowers in the garden.
The housekeeper came to my room and smiled.
“Mr. Owen said these are rare varieties he won at auction. He wants you to care for them personally.”
I hesitated at first, but slowly, I found peace in tending to the flowers.
Unlike the Sinclair Villa-humid and suffocating, kept hot year-round for the snakes-this place was warm with sunshine.
The plants thrived.
And, gradually, so did I.
Then, one morning, Owen appeared at the door holding a small beagle pup.
‘This little guy’s way too energetic. Will you help me look after him?”
knew he brought the puppy on purpose.
But when its wet little nose bumped against my hand, I couldn’t help but smile for the first time
n what felt like forever.
From that day on, the puppy became part of my
world.
We walked together, played fetch, napped in the sunlight.
And I laughed-really laughed.
Owen started taking me on short hikes.
Eventually, I even got behind the wheel again.
The colors of life returned, slowly but surely.
By midsummer, I had fully recovered.
Chapter 7
2/3
10.1%
1:49 pm
By midsummer, I had fully recovered.
Owen invited me to a charity dinner, saying it was time I eased back into social life.
At the event, a group of deaf and mute children began performing on stage with cellos.
Suddenly, the lead child froze.
His back was to the audience. He stood motionless, small hands clutching the bow, shaking slightly.
“They’re nervous…”
‘Well, they’re special children. Just making it on stage is already a victory…”
stared at the boy’s trembling silhouette.
n that moment, I saw myself-
Years ago, on a silent stage, behind a grand piano.
1:49 pm
