Chapter 11
The train clattered along the tracks, each turn of the wheels echoing like the ticking of a slow goodbye.
Outside the window, the landscape blurred past like faded snapshots-muted, washed-out, retreating into the
distance.
Evelyn leaned her forehead lightly against the cold windowpane, the chill of the glass grounding her
thoughts.
She was really gone.
In this lifetime, she hadn’t stayed stuck in that suffocating marriage. She’d left early-early enough to still
save herself.
A flicker of fear stirred in her chest, quickly followed by relief.
What scared her was realizing she might not have had the strength to walk away.
What comforted her was knowing she no longer cared about Leonard Grant..
Fields of flowers rushed past the window, and it triggered a memory-of a spring years ago, the year they got
married, when Leonard had taken her for a bike ride through a similar field.
Back then, she’d thought that was the kind of life they’d have-quiet, gentle, dependable.
She hadn’t realized that kind of peace was built on years of silence, of being forgotten again and again.
Like that time last month when she’d had a raging fever-F°103-and he didn’t even call. He’d been with
Lillian. When he finally came home in the middle of the night, he didn’t even ask how she was.
Every birthday of hers had been the same: a bland bowl of noodles, a half-hearted “Oh, it’s today?” But
Lillian? Leonard always remembered hers in advance. Bought gifts. Made plans.
Evelyn used to tell herself it didn’t matter. He was just forgetful. It wasn’t personal.
But over time, she came to understand the brutal difference between being loved… and merely tolerated.
Leonard had never loved her. That truth had only fully settled in the day she died.
The year she got accepted to the county textile mill, Leonard had told her he didn’t want her working.
And just like that, her resolve had crumbled.
She locked away the offer letter and became the woman cooking three meals a day in the Grant family’s
kitchen.
“Do you regret it?” A voice echoed in her mind.
Evelyn shut her eyes. A tear slipped down her cheek, soaking into her collar.
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Of course she regretted it. She regretted it so much she could barely breathe.
If only she hadn’t been so stubborn, maybe she wouldn’t have wasted so many years.
The train suddenly jolted, snapping her out of her daze. She blinked and realized her cheeks were wet.
Still, thank God-thank God she’d been given a second chance.
The sky outside darkened. Inside the train car, snores rose and fell in rhythm.
Evelyn leaned her head back against the stiff seat. A wave of exhaustion swept over her.
She was going to study textile work and live on her own terms this time.
The thought had barely taken root when her eyes grew heavy. The rocking of the train soon lulled her into a
deep, dreamless sleep.
She had no idea how long she’d slept before the commotion began.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat up groggily and heard the conductor’s voice shout, “Final stop! Everyone off the
train! Don’t forget your belongings!”
Startled, Evelyn grabbed her canvas bag and followed the crowd toward the exit.
The moment she stepped onto the platform, icy raindrops splattered against her face.
“Why does it have to start raining now?” someone nearby muttered.
Evelyn looked up. The sky was black with storm clouds, and within seconds, fat raindrops turned into a
curtain of water, pouring relentlessly from above.
She hadn’t brought an umbrella.
She hadn’t even found the address she was supposed to go to yet.
If she got soaked, everything would be ruined.
Clutching her bag tightly, she huddled beneath a metal column, watching as others opened umbrellas and
rushed off. For a long moment, she didn’t know where to go.
Then, out of nowhere, a black umbrella appeared above her head.
“Take it,” a gentle male voice said beside her.
Startled, Evelyn turned-and looked into a pair of clear, kind eyes.
The man was wearing a deep blue work uniform, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, calloused forearms.
He gave her a small, easy smile as he nudged the umbrella into her hands.
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“Thank you so much,” Evelyn said quickly, reaching into her pocket. “How much do I owe you?”
But the man shook his head and stepped back.
“No need. Just helping out.”
Before she could say more, he turned and disappeared into the downpour.
His dark silhouette was quickly swallowed by the pale curtain of rain.
Evelyn stood frozen, holding the still-warm handle of the umbrella.
The price tag was still dangling from the edge. It was brand new.
She opened it and walked in the direction he’d pointed out.
Rain hammered the umbrella in a steady rhythm, and for the first time in a long time… she felt sheltered.
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