Jessica exited the page without reading a single word of the message.
Still, the image of Sheila's long, straight black hair lingered stubbornly in her mind.
She had the same kind of hair—glossy, dark, and perfectly straight.
Back when things were good, Timothy used to love playing with her hair, always saying how beautiful it was, how much he liked it...
But some things just can't bear close scrutiny.
Seven years—seven whole years. If she'd only paid a little more attention, maybe she would have seen everything sooner.
Her throat tightened, a choking sensation making it hard to breathe.
Love really does blind you, makes you rush headlong into disaster.
Timothy couldn't get in touch with Jessica.
Instead, he asked Mabel when Jessica had left and checked which flights she might have taken, then headed to the airport ahead of time.
There were only two possible flights she could be on.
He waited until the second flight landed, but Jessica never appeared.
Standing by the arrivals gate, Timothy's brow was drawn tight with worry.
He and Sheila had rushed home after hearing his grandfather was unwell, only to find it was nothing serious.
He knew what was going on and didn't press for details.
Since he and Henry were already there, Timothy decided to use the opportunity to introduce Jessica to his grandfather.
If his grandfather met Jessica and saw how close and respectful their marriage was, he'd have no reason to object in the future.
So his grandfather was looking forward to meeting Jessica and had even prepared a home-cooked dinner for her.
Sheila called him.
"Timothy, did you find Jessica yet?"
"No."
Sheila sounded worried. "She can't speak—do you think she might have run into trouble?"
"She'll be fine." Timothy's voice was sharper than he meant, betraying his frustration. This was the last thing he wanted to think about.
Sheila paused, caught off guard by his tone.
Quickly, she added, "Sorry, I just... I'm a bit worried about Jessica. I shouldn't have said that."
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