Chapter Seven #2
And now she was standing only a few meters away from me, changed, distant, smiling at another man as if the sight of it did not carve straight through something I had spent years trying to harden.
The anger in my chest shifted into a uglier thing with teeth, a vicious urge to cross the room and tear that easy smile off Daniel’s face for standing where I should have been.
It was more than jealousy. I knew that, and it pissed me off because there was no clean name for what she did to me.
Watching her walk into that room tonight forced the truth into the open, the one I had buried beneath obsession, anger, and every failed attempt to convince myself that finding her was about answers.
I had not only been searching for her.
I had been missing her every fucking day she was gone. And I hated the fact that the first person standing beside her tonight wasn’t me.
Daniel. That fucking professor from the department.
He walked in next to her with the relaxed confidence of someone who believed he had every right to be there, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back as they moved through the entrance together.
My fingers tightened around the stem of the champagne glass. I did not like the way Daniel’s hand lingered near her, familiar in a way that made my jaw tighten, as if he had earned the right to stand close without thinking twice. What bothered me most was her face.
She was smiling.
Actually smiling.
It was nothing like the polite smile she used at work for students, colleagues, and people she kept at a safe distance. This smile was warmer, softer around her mouth, carrying the ease I remembered from years ago, back when she still felt safe to let the world see it.
Then she laughed at something Daniel said, and the sound went straight under my skin.
I took another sip of champagne, keeping my eyes on them from across the room while something ugly twisted in my chest. Watching another man stand beside her with that kind of ease felt too much like watching him step into a place that had once been mine.
And the thought made me want to break the glass in my hand.
I did not like it. The way Daniel stood beside her. The casual brush of his hand against her back when they stopped to greet another group of colleagues. The ease in her smile, as if standing next to him cost her nothing while I stood across the room trying not to crush the glass in my hand.
I leaned back and forced my grip to loosen before the stem snapped between my fingers.
One thing became clear the moment I saw them walk in together.
This evening was about to become far more interesting than I had expected, and if Daniel Whitmore believed he could spend the night beside Edwina Rhodes as though he belonged there, he was going to learn how badly he had misread the room.
Edwina
Agreeing to attend the wedding with Daniel had seemed simple when he asked me in the hallway earlier that week.
Lena wanted everyone to arrive with a partner, and going with him felt easier than facing the questions that always came when someone appeared alone at events where colleagues knew too much about one another.
At the time, it had felt harmless, just another part of university life, a small obligation that came with working around people until their private celebrations became part of your calendar.
Yet as I stood in front of the mirror that evening, adjusting the thin strap over my shoulder, the decision no longer felt so simple. The dress was red.
Back then, my wardrobe had been softer and simpler, filled with colors that felt safe to me, especially green.
It had always been my favorite, or at least it used to be.
I wore it so often that the color became part of how I remembered those years, in sweaters, dresses, and the winter coat I used to pull around myself on evenings when the campus library stayed open late and the air carried the scent of old books and coffee.
I could still remember the first time Hayden truly noticed it.
I had been wearing a dark green dress that day, long-sleeved and simple, chosen without much thought before meeting him at the library.
It became one of our best evenings, sitting across from each other between shelves of old volumes, talking about the books we loved, discovering each other’s tastes, and listening to him tease me about reading dark romance as if he had not been fascinated by every answer I gave. He hadn’t been pretending.
Hayden loved green on me, and after he said it, the color stopped belonging only to me.
It became tied to the way he looked at me, to the evenings I once thought would become memories we shared, to a version of myself who still believed loving him was safe.
After everything ended, I could not wear it anymore.
Every green sweater, every dress, every piece of fabric left in my wardrobe seemed to hold some part of him I was still trying to survive.
So I left them there, untouched, hidden at the back where I would not have to face what they carried.
Years had passed, and I still did not know if I would ever be able to wear that color again, because seeing it meant remembering him, and remembering him still hurt in places I had not learned how to reach.
I slipped on my heels and reached for my coat, forcing myself to move before the memory pulled me any deeper. From the hallway behind me came the soft sound of Helena’s laughter.
I stepped out of the bedroom and found her sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, surrounded by an impressive disaster of coloring books and crayons while Mrs. Graham sat comfortably on the sofa nearby, knitting needles moving steadily between her fingers.
Mrs. Eleanor Graham had been helping me with Helena for almost two years now.
She was somewhere in her early fifties, though the warmth in her round face and the easy patience in her voice made her seem younger.
Her hair, streaked with soft silver, was usually pulled into a loose bun, and her figure carried the comfortable softness of someone who believed good food and laughter were both necessary parts of life.
Helena adored her. Which made evenings like this possible.
Mrs. Graham looked up when she noticed me.
“Well,” she said with a gentle smile, setting the knitting aside, “you look beautiful tonight.”
Helena looked up the moment she heard me. Her eyes widened, and then she was on her feet, running toward me with her silky straight hair tied into two small ponytails that swung with every step.
“Mommy!” She stopped in front of me and stared as if she needed a second to understand what she was seeing.
“You look like a princess,” she said with complete seriousness.
I laughed and knelt in front of her, smoothing a loose strand away from her forehead. “Do I?”
“Yes,” she said.
Mrs. Graham smiled from the sofa. “She’s been waiting all evening to see your dress.”
I kissed Helena’s cheek. “I’ll only be gone for a few hours, and Mrs. Graham will stay with you the whole time.”
I grabbed my coat and bag from the chair near the door. Daniel would be arriving any minute. The doorbell rang just as I finished fastening the clasp of my coat.
Helena gasped from the living room.
“That must be Uncle Daniel!”
Her excitement made me smile despite the tension still sitting somewhere beneath my ribs.
“I think you’re right,” I said, straightening the front of my dress once more before walking to the door.
When I opened it, Daniel was standing on the other side of the hallway in a dark suit, one hand tucked casually into his coat pocket while the other held a small bouquet of winter roses. For a moment he simply stared at me. Completely silent. I raised an eyebrow.
“Well?” I asked lightly.
He blinked once, clearly pulling himself back into the present.
“Wow,” he said finally.
I laughed softly.
“That bad?”
“Quite the opposite,” he replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “Edwina… you look incredible.”
The sincerity in his voice made warmth rise briefly to my cheeks.
“Thank you.”
“I had a feeling everyone would show up looking impressive tonight,” he added, “but you will surpass everyone.”
“That is a dangerous amount of confidence, Professor Whitmore,” I said.
Daniel smiled. “I’m only telling the truth.”
Before I could answer, the doorbell rang, and Helena appeared beside me almost at once, curiosity lighting her face.
Daniel lowered himself to her height, still holding the roses in one hand. “Hi, sweetheart. Uncle Daniel missed you so much.”
“Uncle Daniel!” she shouted, throwing her arms around him.
He laughed as he hugged her back, careful not to crush the flowers between them. Helena pulled away just slightly to look at the bouquet, her eyes growing wide.
“Are these roses for me or for Mommy?”
Daniel glanced at me, then back at her with a serious expression. “For you, of course.”
Helena beamed as if he had just handed her the moon.
After a few more words and a quick hug goodbye from Helena, I stepped into the hallway with Daniel, pulling my coat around me as the cold London air greeted us outside.The drive to the venue passed easily.
Daniel kept the conversation light—stories from the department, a few jokes about how chaotic academic weddings could become once the wine started flowing—and for a while I allowed myself to relax into the simple normalcy of it.
The moment we stepped inside the reception hall, something shifted.
Warm light spilled from the chandeliers, colleagues gathered in small groups around the room, and the low sound of laughter and conversation filled the space.
Daniel’s hand brushed the small of my back as we entered, guiding me through the doorway.
Then I felt it, the sudden awareness of being watched. The sensation came so sharply that my steps slowed before I could stop them. A familiar tension moved along the back of my neck, and my gaze lifted across the room until it found him.