Chapter 10
Chapter 10
C
When Barbara walked into the upstairs study, she found Charles searching through the desk drawers. At the sound of the footsteps, Charles glanced up automatically. Seeing it was Barbara, he asked, “Where’s Teresa?”
Barbara pointed downstairs. “Mrs. Logan left in a hurry. Looked like something urgent came up.”
Charles straightened abruptly, a rare flash of anger crossing his face. “She left?” He had come to the study at her request, only to find nothing. Now she was gone without a word of explanation. He had every right to be furious.
Noticing his darkening mood, Barbara hesitated before daring to ask, “What are you looking for, Mr. Logan?”
“There should be some papers on this desk,” Charles said coldly. “Have you seen them?”
After a moment’s thought, Barbara’s face lit up. “Ah yes! Mrs. Logan asked me to give them to you. I kept them in my room so I wouldn’t forget. I’ll go get them now.”
Charles frowned, his tone laced with displeasure. “Don’t touch anything in my study again.”
Barbara murmured an acknowledgment and hurried downstairs. Charles had barely settled into his chair when his phone rang. It was Roselyn calling. “Aren’t you done yet? Yolanda won’t sleep and keeps asking for you.”
Charles hesitated, unsure what exactly he was supposed to finish. But rather than ask for clarification, he just said, “I’ll be there soon.”
Downstairs, Barbara was searching her room, completely unaware Charles had already left. After digging through every drawer and /shelf with no success, she groaned, “Where on earth did I put those papers?”
A moment later, Wendy spoke, her voice thin and frayed, “George cheated again.” Teresa had lost count of how heard these words.
Wendy had spent eight years with George Ford since college. Their relationship was going nowhere, yet it refused to Whatever love existed had faded long ago, yet Wendy still clung to the fantasy of a proposal.
At dawn, rain began to fall, its steady patter drumming against the car windows. Warm air whispered from the vents. Wendy sat crumpled in the passenger seat, her face buried in trembling hands. Teresa watched in silence, her worried gaze fixed ou shaking shoulders.
is
many
maher.
die
either.
However, the cycle never changed. His betrayal was always followed by her forgiveness, over and over again. At twenty–seven, Wendy felt trapped in their relationship. The mere thought of life without George sent ice through her veins, leaving her paralyzed in a prison of her own making.
Silence hung heavy in the car, broken only by Wendy’s stifled sobs. Teresa’s throat ached with all the words she couldn’t say. “You need to let go,” she said at last, her voice calm.
“I can’t, Teresa.” Wendy’s voice splintered like glass. “Eight years, I’ve given him half my soul.” She pressed her palms harder against her swollen eyes, as if she could push the tears back inside.
Teresa couldn’t take it anymore. She reached over and pried Wendy’s hands from her face, forcing her to meet the world head–on. “You’re choosing not to,” she said, her voice edged with frustration. “If I could move on, so can you.”
Wendy turned and locked eyes with Teresa. The silence stretched between them until Wendy whispered, “Have you really?”
“I have,” Teresa met her gaze with a sincere nod, her expression carrying the quiet certainty of one who had walked this painful path
before.
Wendy flinched under the weight of Teresa’s certainty. That kind of conviction couldn’t be faked. Her gaze broke first, dropping to her own trembling hands. “But I can’t,” she choked out, tears carving hot paths down her cheeks. “He owns half my years. What’s left of me without him?”
Teresa watched Wendy for a long moment before letting out a tired sigh. “I’ll stop trying to persuade you. You’ll come around when you’ve hit that wall enough times.”
She knew this too well. Her own parents had begged her to stay away from that toxic relationship, but she had threatened to cut them off. That’s how these things went. Until someone woke up on their own, all the good advice in the world was just wasted breath.
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11:27 AM P d
Chapter 10
Wendy cried until her eyes burned, then grabbed her phone and kept calling George. When he blocked her, she snatched Teresa’s phone to keep trying.
Thirty exhausting minutes later, George finally answered with a snarl, “Jesus, Wendy! When will you stop? Can’t you just leave me alone?”
Wendy had barely spoken one word before he continued impatiently, “We’re done talking. I’m going to sleep.” The line died with a final click.
Wendy immediately redialed, but now only got his voicemail. Tears splattered against the darkened screen like raindrops.
Teresa watched it all with a pang of recognition. She saw her past self in Wendy’s desperation, remembering how she too had once clung to that same empty love. Without a word, she took Wendy’s trembling hand and held it tight, offering only quiet comfort.
family dinner. The morning passed in a flurry of preparation–chopping
tog bles.
By 5 am, Teresa was already at the grocery store for herbs for the roast chicken, peeling potatoes, trimming
Monica, home for the weekend, sorted silverware and folded napkins at the dining table, occasionally stealing a cherry tomato from the salad prep bowl.
The house hummed with morning activity as the others went about their day. Howard and Theodore rushed off to the office after breakfast, while Yvonne, working as a model, departed for her spring collection shoot. Even Linda had slipped out early, determined to get the first pick of the bakery’s famous double–layer chocolate cake before it sold out.
That evening, Teresa prepared a generous spread: herb–roasted chicken with garlic and rosemary, creamy mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli and carrots, and a garden salad with cherry tomatoes. When the family gathered, they were amazed by the hearty meal.
Theodore’s eyes unconsciously went to Teresa. She stood by the table with her apron strings pulled tight around her waist, her bare face a stark contrast to the pampered younger sister he remembered. The Logans had changed her, taking away that polished look and leaving behind a tired shadow.
when does this house
anyway.” The words were
Theodore handed his briefcase to maid Betty Jones, wiping his hands roughly on the towel she offered. “Since need its lady to cook?” he snapped. “We have staff for this. And half the restaurants in town serve better food harsh, but Teresa heard the old protective edge in his voice.
Teresa knew Theodore was right. The Sullivans were not super rich, but certainly well–off enough to dine out regularly.
આ સંકુલ પાયે આપેલ છે
Tonight’s cooking came from her guilt. For five years, she had cooked elaborate birthday meals for Zack Logan, yet never prepared even a simple salad for her own father. The shame of that neglect burned hotter than any stove flame.
Yvonne elbowed Theodore under the table when he kept making sharp comments. He winced and finally stopped talking.
The dinner was full of laughter. Yvonne made everyone take pictures between dishes. After eating, Monica happily wiped cake on Teresa’s face. Yvonne did the same to Theodore. Soon Monica had them all singing the birthday son
before they blew out the candles
together.
Amid the laughter, Teresa’s chest tightened as she remembered how she had spent this date for the past
over.
But those days were
Opening her social media for the first time since marriage, she posted nine glowing photos of tonight’s celebration. The caption read simply, [This day is yours now, Dad. Happy birthday.]