"I'll explain for Adrian," Renee said, stepping forward with a voice that was sweet but also sharp.
Evelyn's shoulders shook. Her hands moved in quick, angry gestures; every sign was filled with rage.
I don't need you to explain. I want him to.
Renee didn't understand her signs, but the look she gave Evelyn was piercing.
Pity.
That awful, suffocating pity.
Evelyn's chest heaved. Tears filled her eyes—not just from sadness, but from the humiliation of being looked at like a ghost, like something that had outlived its purpose.
Then it hit her.
She should've died in the desert.
Why hadn't she?
Why had she fought so hard, endured so much, only to return to this?
The pain of captivity hadn't broken her.
But this? This slow disintegration of everything she once believed?
This was hell.
Her hands fell limply to her sides. No more fighting. No more gestures. Her spirit, held together by threads of hope, began to unravel.
"The truth is…" Renee started again, her voice now tinged with passive-aggression, "When Dr. Chen invited the team to join the medical mission in South Sudan, Adrian didn't want you to go. You two had just registered your marriage. He loved you so much, and he was scared of losing you."
Her tone turned critical.
"But you—you had to chase your so-called dream. You called it a mission for peace, but wasn't it just… about you? You left him behind and didn't care how it would affect him."
"Renee," Adrian snapped, pressing a hand to his temple and lowering his voice. "That's enough."
"No, I won't stay silent," Renee's eyes glazed over. "She walked away like it meant nothing. But do you know what happened when the news came back? When they said the entire team might be dead?"
Her voice trembled.
"He fell apart. He drank himself into oblivion. Every night, he begged some god to bring you back."
Evelyn's gaze shifted to Adrian. Her hands shook as she picked up the pen again.
He had supported her. When she signed that medical aid form, he had cupped her cheeks and said—
"Eve, I support every decision you make. I'll wait for you."
Those words had kept her alive.
She replayed them every night under a foreign sky, holding on to them as she faced chains, darkness, and fear. They had been her light.
But now?
Now that same man stood silent beside another woman who called him her own.
"I'll admit it," Renee said suddenly, chin raised proudly. "The way I got Adrian wasn't exactly honorable. But I don't regret it. I love him. I had his child. I never cared that he loved you—I knew one day he'd come to love me."
She smiled, picking up her daughter from the couch.
"I chose to keep the baby. And when Adrian was shattered, when he wanted to end it all, I was there. I pulled him out of the darkness. I gave him something to live for. A family."
A quiet gasp escaped Evelyn's lips.
Family.
The word echoed like a curse.
She stared at the child again—at her soft curls, her tiny hands wrapped around Adrian's collar.
She reached for her pen again.
"How old are you?"
The little girl blinked and said proudly, "I'm five!"
Evelyn stood still. Her breath froze.
Five.
Which meant…
Adrian had slept with Renee before Evelyn left. Before the mission.
Before South Sudan.
Before the desert.
The betrayal cut deeper than anything she had ever known.
The love that kept her alive was a lie.
She picked up the pen again.
"This is my home."
Renee gave a tight smile. "I know you and Adrian bought this place together. But things change. I can reimburse you for the part you paid if you need it. But I'm his wife now. I hope you can understand—and let go."
Let go.
Just like that.
Renee's tone hardened. "Your things are in the basement. We've packed everything up neatly. You can go down and collect them whenever you want."
With that, she turned and disappeared into the hallway, her daughter still nestled in her arms like a trophy.
Evelyn stood in the doorway, numb and suffocating.
The photos on the shelves were no longer of her and Adrian. Gone were their beach trips, their wedding pictures, and their smiles from college graduation.
Now the frames held Renee. The child. A new life that bloomed while hers lay buried.
Adrian used to be obsessed with cleanliness. He couldn't stand clutter.
Now? Toys covered the floor. There were crumbs on the coffee table. Baby shoes lined the hallway.
So he could change.
He just didn't want to change for her.
And the worst part? He never denied anything Renee said.
Everything she claimed—
He agreed in silence.
"Come in," Adrian said softly, not quite meeting her eyes.
Evelyn didn't move.
Instead, she wrote a final note.
"No, thank you. Please take me back to Lakeview Bay. My parents' home."
At least there, even without a husband, she still had her parents.
Adrian's fingers tightened around the doorframe. He wouldn't look at her.
"…Eve," he whispered, his voice trembling, "I'm so sorry."
She blinked.
Her vision swam.
Sorry? For what?
Why wouldn't he meet her gaze?
Why had the officer at the station hesitated?
What weren't they saying?
What had happened?
Evelyn staggered forward, hastily writing:
"What happened to my parents? They were healthy. They only had me. What happened?!"
Adrian's shoulders slumped.
Then he said it.
"In the second year after your disappearance… they passed away. Both of them."
Boom.
The world tilted.
Her knees buckled. Her throat closed. Her ears rang.
Pain.
It wasn't just in her chest anymore. It was everywhere—ripping through her, searing through skin, muscle, bone.
Gone?
Her parents were… gone?
The floor fell out from beneath her.