Chapter: 1954 Her sketchbook was nearly full.
Init, a wedding dress, the epitome of elegance, took shape under her crayon, modeled by a stunning woman...
Laura's hand, guided by a heart full of dreams, moved diligently.
Peter and his wife had always assumed the woman in Laura's drawings was Cathy since Cathy loomed large in Laura's memories. But Laura never told anyone it was Cecilia she was sketching.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtANGELA'sLIBRARY Laura understood Mark's marriage never happened because of her.
Cecilia never even got to wear her wedding gown.
Forever crafting stunning wedding dresses in her sketches, Laura dreamed of becoming a designer. She harbored the hope of presenting Cecilia with one of her designs someday.
That way, she thought, Cecilia wouldn't hold a grudge against Mark.
When Edwin spotted Laura from the doorway, his gaze also fell upon the wedding sketches. A fierce anger ignited in his eyes.
He mistook the woman for Cathy as well.
Marching up to Laura, Edwin did something he'd never done before-he lost his temper and ripped her sketchbook apart.
That sketchbook was a collection of Laura's artistic endeavors, spanning two years.
Now, it was nothing but scraps.
They fluttered down, landing on the pristine bed, amidst Laura's hair, and over her body.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmShe stared, bewildered, at the little boy before her.
His skin was perfect.
His hair, a rich brown.
His features? Echoes of Mark's.
Almost instantly, Laura pieced together who he was. With a complexion as white as a sheet, she bent down, trying to gather the torn fragments...
But Edwin, a mix of guilt and resentment in his tone, demanded, “Why are you always around?” Laura's face lost what little color it had left.
Just then, Lina, arms laden with fruit, walked in. She took in the scene with the two children and looked about, bewildered... Where had Mark and Peter gone? Lina, doing her best to soothe Edwin, reached for her phone to call her husband.
Lina kept her voice down, querying, “Why’s Edwin here? The kids seem to be at loggerheads.”