Chapter 9
Frederick brought the urn back to Ravenswood Manor.
He placed a small table in the bedroom, setting her photograph on top,the wedding portrait where I smiled,
eyes crinkling into half-moons. Each morning, his first ritual was to stare at that image, standing there in a
slience.
A week later, colleagues noticed something off. During meetings, he sat at the head of the table staring
vacantly out the window. His secretary called his name three times before he stirred.
“Mr. Sterling, your thoughts on this proposal-”
“Do as you see fit.” He dismissed them with a gesture.
Staff exchanged uneasy glances. The old Frederick scrutinized every detail; now he seemed detached from it
all.
Afterward, his secretary ventured cautiously, “Sir, are you unwell lately?”
He didn’t answer, simply rose and left.
He drove to the Grand Athenaeum of Veridia, where we first met. Sitting in the same spot, he fixed his gaze on
the shelf where it happened.
Nearby, a girl carrying a tall stack of books stumbled. Instinctively, he reached out to steady her.
She thanked him; he rasped, “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, waving her away.
Once she left, a memory washed over him, ten years ago, Evelyn clutching books, losing balance, blushing
fiercely when he caught her.
Th-thank you…
Careful, he’d said with a slight smile.
That one moment,she had clung to that single moment for ten years.
He dropped his head into his hands. Silence filled the library save for rustling pages, his shoulders trembled
uncontrollably.
By nightfall he was back at the manor. Pushing open the door, darkness greeted him.
Before, Evelyn would’ve left lights on, greeting him with Frederick, you’re home, let me warm dinner.
Always, he’d snap. Not hungry. Stop bothering me.
Now emptiness echoed through rooms that held no voice but his own.
He flicked on the lamp. A parcel lay on the coffee table,sent by Beatrice.
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Inside: Evelyn’s folded clothes, neat and orderly, a notebook detailing his preferences.
Frederick dislikes cilantro.
Frederick prefers black Americano, no sugar.
Frederick’s suits-dry clean only, never machine wash.
Line after line, meticulous notes.
His hands trembled so violently he almost let the notebook fall.Flipping to the final page,
Today Frederick said he hates me.
I know.
I hate myself too.
But I still want to treat him well.
Even if he doesn’t want it, I want to give it.
Getting to marry him-I’m grateful enough.
He hugged the notebook to his chest, leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed as tears streaked down his
temples.
His phone buzzed, Isabella,from a new number
He hesitated, then answered.
“Frederick…” Her tone tentative. “Are you okay? Can I visit?”
“No.” His voice stayed flat. “Isabella, don’t contact me again.”
“Why? I’m grieving too, but life has to go-”
“Go on?” He laughed coldly. “How? Because of your gym lie, I hung up on her final call.”
Silence.
“Frederick, I-”
“Enough.” He cut her off. “It’s over. Live well.”
He hung up, blocked the number at once.
The next day, he resigned from Sterling Group.Sold the manor, took Evelyn’s urn, and drove to Seabrook Haven,the seaside town she’d always wanted to see.
He rented a cottage facing the ocean, passing whole days on the balcony, the urn cradled in his hands,speaking softly to her
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“Evelyn, look,this is the sea you dreamed of.”
“Blue. Beautiful.”
“Wish you were here.”
He narrated daily rhythms, weather, waves, meals he attempted. Neighbors whispered he’d lost his mind, he
ignored them.
Three months later, he found a rocky outcrop overlooking the water. Opening the urn, he scattered the ashes
into the sea.
“Evelyn, you’re free now.”
“Go wherever you wish.”
“Next life,avoid men like me.”
Wind whipped fiercely, buffeting him, threatening his footing. He stood unmoving, watching ashes dissolving
into the waves, twilight faded into night.
Back in the cottage, he retrieved her diary, read it one final time, then laid it in the fireplace.
Flames consumed the pages, ink vanishing into embers.
Tears tracked down his face. “Evelyn, sorry.”
“I love you.”
“Too late.”
Fire dwindled to ash,words and memories rendered into nothing.
He slumped against the wall, eyes closing.
Dreams offered momentary relief, Evelyn running toward him, grasping his hand. Frederick, let’s visit the
shore.
He nodded. Okay.
Do you promise not to find me annoying?
He clasped her hand tighter. Never. Never again.
She smiled, eyes curving like crescent moons
But dreams always ended.
Waking, he faced the bare room. Alone, he stepped onto the balcony. Waves crashed rhythmically below.
Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled deeply,smoke drifted like her fading presence,impossible to hold.
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Head bowed, he murmured into salty wind,
“Evelyn, next time… let it be you who finds me.”
“I’ll wait.”
Ocean breeze swept smoke and sorrow away,bearing away days that would never come back.
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