NovelEnglishUnbeknownst to Rena, Waylen embarked on a journey to Czanch, his footsteps guided by a purpose hidden in the depths of his heart.
Rena remained in blissful ignorance, the tapestry of her own day woven with the threads of routine.
The private plane touched down gracefully at the stroke of ten, like a phantom of the skies. Waylen’s arrival at the Evans family’ residence was well-timed, shortly before noon, leaving the mansion’s butler utterly surprised by the unexpected guest, Rushing to the grand hall, he announced with urgency, “Mrs. Zoey Evans, Mr, Waylen Fowler has arrived,”
Zoey’s heart raced with curiosity.
“What brings him here today?”
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtHer unease was rooted in the unresolved tension between their families. Mark, her son, and Waylen’s sister Cecilia had a tangled history that led to the birth of a child. For years, Mark hadn’t given Cecilia a home, and Zoey feared Waylen’s presence might ignite a storm of anger.
The butler hesitated, and then cautiously replied, “He appears troubled.” Zoey’s concern deepened.
At that very moment, Waylen entered, his demeanor unusually deferential, which only served to bewilder Zoey further.
Without delay, he extended his arm to escort Zoey to her room, away from prying eyes. He confided with a faint smile dancing on his lips, “I have something to share with you, in private
Zoey’s playful retort didn’t mask her relief.
“Waylen, what’s with all the secrecy?”
Waylen’s enigmatic smile remained.
When they arrived at the room, he unveiled an aged photograph on the table.
As Zoey donned her reading glasses to study it, she marveled, “This is an old picture of me. How did you manage to find this?”
When she flipped the photo over, her questions dissipated, replaced by a subtle shift in her expression.
Her eyes welled with a complex mix of melancholy and longing for days long gone by.
In fading ink, the reverse side of the photograph bore a message that tugged at Zoey’s heartstrings.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm“I miss my beloved Zoey.”
Tears glistened in Zoey’s eyes as she recognized the familiar handwriting.
“Waylen, I recognize this handwriting.”
Her voice quivered, but the tears remained in check.
Waylen’s voice was hushed yet filled with a gentle solemnity.
“Jarrod entrusted this to me. He said… His life’s greatest regret was not having the chance to apologize to you.”
Zoey’s fingers caressed the photograph, and a sigh escaped her lips.
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