64. Chapter 59 #2
She didn’t know what she had expected when she turned into the hallway—but it wasn’t this.
Not him.
The silence between them wasn’t just a moment of recognition, not a simple encounter between two people who once knew each other.
It was electric, razor-sharp, with too many unspoken things burning between them like lit fuses.
Her gaze flicked over him, over the dark suit, the undone collar of his shirt. Over the sl ight disarray of his hair, the shadow in his eyes. Then lower.
To the movement of his hand.
To the way he adjusted his jacket slightly, as if he were trying to hide something.
To the bottle that disappeared from his fingers a second too late.
Evin raised an eyebrow. “Alcohol on school grounds?” Her voice was calm. Maybe a little too calm.
He shrugged, tilting his chin up slightly. “It made sense.”
She let out a quiet, sharp laugh. “Right.”
Her fingers tensed around her clutch as she moved to brush past him. She wasn’t here to do this. She wasn’t here to let herself spiral back into whatever this was.
But then—
She heard the voices.
Not from the students in the banquet hall.
Not from Milka, who was still outside talking to Bellamy.
Her instincts told her to leave.
She kept moving, her clutch still tight in her hand.
Bas followed. A barely noticeable echo of her steps.
The hallway was darker than the banquet hall, only the dim glow of the emergency exit signs illuminating the outlines of closed doors. Their footsteps were soft against the polished floor, muffled by the heavy silence between them.
Evin hesitated, just for a second. Her eyes scanned the dark door frames, searching for the source.
The murmuring became clearer. Sharper.
Bas felt it too. His posture shifted, the muscles in his back tightening.
Evin swallowed. She didn’t know why she slowed down. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was an instinctual feeling that there was something here she needed to hear.
She stepped closer. One of the classroom doors was slightly ajar.
The light inside was dim but not off. A soft, golden glow spilled through the gap, stretching across the floor.
And then she sa w her mother.
Her shoulders squared, her hands clasped together as if she were holding onto her patience.
She wasn’t alone.
Evin didn’t need to move closer to know who was standing there.
Richard Montgomery.
He stood relaxed, one hand in his jacket pocket. The way he tilted his head slightly, as if amused by a private joke. The resemblance to Bas in that moment was unnerving.
His voice was calm, his tone so matter-of-fact it hurt.
“You should be glad they’re not together anymore.”
The sentence hit her like a punch to the chest.
Her body went cold.
Bas leaned in.
She could feel his presence beside her, a sudden, rigid tension filling the air between them.
His father kept talking, but the words were too quiet. Only fragments reached them.
“...It had to happen sooner or later.”
“...You saw for yourself what she did to him.”
“...He needs to learn where he belongs.”
Evin’s mother let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Dry. Hollow.
“Where he belongs?” Her voice was sharp as glass. “Tell me, Richard, is that the only thing you Montgomery men know how to do? Draw lines? Sacrifice people to make them fit into your perfect little image?”
Richard scoffed softly. “I’m just correcting mistakes before they become disgraceful.”
A step. A soft scrape of heels against the floor.
“Is that what your father once told you?” Her voice was calm, but there was something underneath it. Something Evin had never heard before.
Richard didn’t answer.
Not right away.
Then—a smile. Barely there. “Be careful not to look for answers you already know. ”
Evin’s mother stepped closer, crossing her arms. “And you should be careful who you lie to their face. If you really think you convinced him to make the right decision, then you don’t know your son at all.”
Bas froze.
Evin froze.
Something in the air shifted, subtle but undeniable.
Richard didn’t stay silent for long. “And if you really think you know him so well—” He paused, as if savoring his next words. “—then ask yourself why he had to be forced in the first place.”
Blood rushed in Evin’s ears.
What were they talking about?
Bas’s breathing was barely audible, but she could hear it. Shallow, controlled, full of something he didn’t want to show.
Her mother didn’t back down. Her voice was quiet but firm.
“Because you made him.”
“Or because deep down, he knew I was right?”
Absolute silence.
Not even the distant laughter from the banquet hall could break it.
Evin felt Bas stiffen beside her.
Slowly she turned her head and looked at him.
He was already looking at her.
And in that moment, she knew.
He hadn’t chosen to leave her.
Not freely.
And the shock in his face mirrored her own—
because neither of them had seen any of this coming.
The truth unfolding between them, searing and impossible to outrun.
In that moment, they both understood that nothing between them had ever really been their choice.
That maybe they had never actually had a choice.
That their story had always been held together by invisible strings,
pulled by hands that never intended to let them go.
Strings that were about to snap…