Chapter 2
Evelyn sat on the floor, leaning against the cold wardrobe.
Photos lay scattered across her lap, and suddenly, her tears splashed onto the photos, blurring those tender lights and shadows.
It turned out that Charles wasn't blind to her love.
He just kept it hidden from her, buried in the folds of time where she could never reach.
Evelyn remembered the lonely wedding night, how gentle he was when he defended Vivian, when he said that he and Vivian were only friends, and how cold he became after he lost his memory.
All the hurt and heartache she'd bottled up for so long hit her all at once the moment she saw those photos.
She clutched the photos to her chest, her shoulders trembling as she cried like a child.
She ached for the version of herself who had loved Charles for eight years, and for the devotion he'd hidden away, never truly cherished.
These photos were the tenderness Charles hid, and they were also knives cutting right into Evelyn's heart.
Just when Evelyn thought she could finally let go, memories yanked her back, making her ache all over again.
She gently ran her fingers over Charles's image in the photo, whispering, "Charles, did you ever love me at all, even just a little?"*****
*****
After Evelyn left, only then did Charles return to the Rivers residence.
He pushed open the door, and the wedding decorations stung his eyes.
The ring sat alone on the dressing table.
Next to the wedding photo, the wedding decoration's glue was not yet dry, but the bride who had waited for him was gone.
For the first time in his life, Charles panicked.
He rummaged desperately through Evelyn's room, but all he found was an old, yellowed diary. On the cover page, it read: [Charles, from sixteen to twenty-four, my entire youth belonged to you.]
Inside, the diary was filled with eight years of Evelyn's happiness and humble devotion.
She wrote about how she practiced all night in high heels just to go to a party with Charles, her feet raw and blistered.
She wrote about how she waited in the kitchen until dawn, simmering soup to soothe his stomach.
She wrote about how she saw a photo of him and Vivian, cried under the covers until morning, but still smiled at him and said, "I trust you."
On the last page, she wrote the day before the wedding: [I'm going to marry Charles tomorrow. He said I was his one and only in this life. I think I've finally made it.]
Charles gripped the diary so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
It was like someone was crushing his heart in their fist, and the pain was so sharp that he could barely breathe.
For the first time, Charles realized he'd never really paid attention to the girl who spent eight years loving him.
He never considered how the words "just friends" and all those times he wasn't there for her had broken her heart.
But Vivian's sobs still echoed in his ears, her hand clutching his as she pleaded, "Charles, you're all I have left. Please don't leave me."
In the end, Charles chose his first love, the one he'd protected for years, and pushed away the girl who loved him more than life itself.
*****
Charles put everything at Rivers Group on hold and set out to look for Evelyn. The first place he went was the old neighborhood where Evelyn grew up.
It was a cluster of shabby alleys, walls mottled and peeling, puddles gathering on the ground. The narrow lanes were packed with all kinds of street stalls—noisy, bustling, and filled with the warmth of everyday life.
It was a world that couldn't be more different from the polished, glamorous life Charles was used to.
Clutching an old photo of Evelyn as a child, Charles wandered the alleys, showing it to anyone who would listen, until he finally tracked down that cramped small bungalow.
It was the place where Evelyn had spent years alone after her parents' accident.
The door was an old wooden door, paint flaking off, and someone had tried to fix the handle with rusty wire, but it was still falling apart, like nobody had cared for it in ages.
The neighbor, an elderly woman with gray hair, saw Charles in his expensive suit, lost in thought as he stared at the shabby house.
She let out a sigh and spoke up, "You're looking for Evelyn, aren't you? Life hasn't been kind to that girl."
Her words pierced right through Charles, sharp as a needle.
He crouched down in front of her, his voice hoarse and, for the first time, truly humble. "Ma'am, could you tell me what Evelyn's childhood was like here?"
The old woman looked at him, let out a sigh, and started talking. "Evelyn's parents passed away early, and her stepmother was cruel.
"When Evelyn got kicked out, she was just a kid. She lived here all by herself, juggling school and whatever work she could find to survive.
"When the roof leaked in summer, she'd grab a little stool, sit in the corner, and use a basin to catch the rain. In winter, with no heat, she'd curl up in a thin blanket at the edge of her bed, trying not to freeze.
"She was stubborn, never complaining about how tough life was. After school, she'd head to the market and pick up leftover vegetable leaves, buy some cheap bread, and save every dollar just so she could buy books to read.
"One time, it was pouring rain, and she slipped on her way to a part-time job. Her leg got scraped up, bleeding everywhere, but she still limped all the way to work, just to earn a few dollars for a meal.
"She'd always sit on the stool outside the door, watching the white camellias blooming across the lane, sometimes for whole afternoons.
"I asked her what she was looking at, and she said she was waiting for someone to come and take her away. She kept that hope alive in her heart, enduring the loneliness, year after year..."