Meanwhile, in the VIP room of the city’s most exclusive club, Martin sat slumped on the couch, downing drink after drink.
His friends watched him, concerned.
“Bro, it’s just a divorce. Plenty of women out there would kill to marry you. Why mope over one?”
“Yeah, what about Stella? Weren’t you two getting close? Marry her and show Evelyn what she’s missing.”
The advice kept coming, but Martin barely heard it.
No matter how many women he met, none of them were Evelyn.
He couldn’t deny it–he’d married Evelyn because she looked like Stella. But over time, he’d fallen for her.
The problem was, he hadn’t realized it until it was too late.
When Stella came back, he’d been blinded by old regrets. He’d lied to Evelyn, claiming work kept him away, while he flew to Switzerland to see Stella.
And when Evelyn needed him most–after the accident, after losing their child–he’d ignored her calls to watch the
sunrise with Stella.
“Evelyn… I was wrong. Please forgive me…”
In his drunken haze, he thought he saw her.
“Is that you, Evelyn?”
The figure smiled softly, reaching out. “It’s me, Martin. Let’s go home.”
Go home?
Right, he was going home with Evelyn.
He stumbled to his feet, tripping over himself as he tried to walk.
His friends finally got him into a car, waving to Stella. “Take care of him, will you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Martin gets home safely.”
She nodded, soothing the restless Martin.
In the car, he frowned, his lips brushing her neck.
“Evelyn, why are you calling me Martin? You used to call me ‘Uncle.“”
12:37
He scratched his head, grinning. “Thought you’d be upset.”
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