Chapter Twenty-Eight - James
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
James
James sat in his office, staring at the email from the school board. Hannah's community art program proposal sat open on his desk—he'd gotten a copy from the district administration. Her passion was evident in every carefully crafted word, every thoughtful detail about how art could help children process emotions, connect with elderly residents, build community.
The board's response was polite but firm: While they approved the program concept, there was no funding available.
Three months ago, James would have seen this as an opportunity. A way to prove himself changed, to win back Hannah's approval. He would have made sure everyone knew exactly who had funded the program, would have positioned himself as the generous benefactor.
Now, he simply opened his banking app and arranged the transfer through his family's charitable foundation. Anonymous donation. No recognition requested. No strings attached.
He thought about Hannah's face when she talked about the program—how her eyes lit up describing Tommy's storm clouds, Sarah's glitter joy, all the ways her students found to express complicated feelings. How she'd planned every detail to make the art show accessible for elderly residents, considering sight lines and seating and a hundred small kindnesses most people wouldn't notice.
His phone buzzed: another message from Mike about some corporate networking event. James ignored it, focused instead on making sure the donation would cover everything in Hannah's proposal. Art supplies. Display equipment. Proper lighting.
She deserved to have this exactly as she'd envisioned it.
The foundation's confirmation email arrived: Transfer complete.
James closed his laptop, moving to the window. The city spread out below, but instead of seeing potential business opportunities, he found himself imagining Hannah's students sharing their art with elderly residents. The connections that would form. The lives that would be touched.
All because Hannah had seen a need and figured out how to fill it.
"Mr. Park?" Angela's voice came through the intercom.
James straightened his tie, gathering his materials. The old James would have found a way to let Hannah know what he'd done. Would have engineered a moment to see her gratitude, to prove he'd changed.
But that wasn't love, was it?
Love was making her world better without expecting anything in return.
Even if she was never going to ask him for anything ever again.
Even if she never loved him back.
Some things mattered more than being seen. Some things were worth doing just because they deserved to be done.
And Hannah's smile tomorrow when she got the news?
That would be enough.