He opened his phone and saw it was a message from Sheila.
"Timothy... I feel so sad. You're hurt like this, and I can't even be with you to take care of you."
The middle of the night, when the world is quiet, is always the best time to talk about feelings.
Sheila wasn't about to let the moment slip away.
Her foster parents’ attitude tonight had said it all—they didn’t want her getting too close to Timothy.
But she was determined to fight for what she wanted.
Timothy stared at the message, letting it sit there for a long while before finally replying.
"I'm fine. Don’t worry about me."
Just a handful of words, and to Sheila, they felt cold and mechanical.
A little too distant.
She couldn’t accept it.
He never used to be like this.
Becoming the adopted daughter of the Howard family had once seemed like a stroke of luck.
But as she grew older, it began to feel more like a shackle.
Sheila was about to send another message when Timothy's reply came through.
"It's late. Get some rest. I'm going to sleep too. Goodnight."
A sharp ache pierced her chest.
To love someone and not be able to be with them—nothing hurts quite like that.
When Timothy arrived that evening, she’d barely managed to exchange a few words of concern before her foster father ushered her off to bed.
She had no idea what was said after that.
Timothy had dragged his injured body all the way to Aetherion. She couldn’t imagine any other reason.
Could it be that Jessica was here?
Was she joining Mr. Smith’s team?
That must be it.
God.
She didn’t dare think further.
If she kept going down that road, she would lose her mind.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Goodbye, Mr. Regret