Chapter Ten: Does He Regret It?

Evelyn's POV

The drive home was unusually quiet, with only the faint hum of the engine and the occasional honk breaking the silence. The city lights blurred past me as my mind wandered, replaying the day over and over again. Dana’s unexpected appearance at the café had left me uneasy. What were the odds she’d just “happen” to be there? She didn’t work nearby, and her explanation felt thin at best.

I was in deep thoughts and hadn't realized how distracted I was until the sound of a sharp honk pulled me back to reality.

It was too late. My car had slightly grazed another vehicle while I was trying to switch lanes. The crunch of metal made my stomach drop, though the damage seemed minor.

I pulled over immediately, parking by the side of the road. The other driver, a middle-aged man in a crisp suit, stepped out of his car, visibly annoyed. His headlamp was cracked, and the tension on his face made it clear this was not how he’d planned to spend his evening.

“You weren’t paying attention, were you?” he accused as I stepped out of my car.

His voice had an edge, but I didn’t flinch. “It was my fault,” I admitted quickly, trying to diffuse the situation.

He gestured at his car, his frustration evident. “Do you have any idea how much this will cost to fix?”

I didn’t want this to escalate. I opened my purse and scribbled a check, holding it out to him. “This should cover the repairs.”

He glanced at the check, then back at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “A check? What makes you think I want that? Do you even understand the inconvenience—”

Before he could finish, I pulled out a bundle of cash from my bag and extended it toward him instead. “Take this. It’s more than enough for the repairs and any other trouble.”

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might argue further. Then he snatched the cash reluctantly. “You didn’t even apologize,” he muttered under his breath, clearly insulted.

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t in the mood to argue or justify my actions. I simply turned, got back into my car, and drove off without a backward glance.

Was that just a string of bad luck, or was it something more? The close call reminded me of my own fragile mortality. I was still alive, still breathing, still moving forward. Whatever had brought me back to this life had given me a second chance.

“I need to do better,” I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I can’t waste this rebirth.”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I turned into the gated driveway of my father’s estate. The familiar sight of the sprawling house, surrounded by carefully manicured lawns and a high stone wall, usually brought me comfort. But tonight, it felt oppressive, as if the weight of the day was following me inside.

Parking my car, I grabbed my bag and headed towards the front door. The staff had already lit the pathway lights, their warm glow guiding me up the steps. Once inside, the faint aroma of dinner lingered in the air, but the house was otherwise quiet.

“Is Dad back?” I asked Mrs. Rudd, our housekeeper, as she emerged from the kitchen.

“Not yet, Miss Evelyn,” she replied, smoothing her apron. “He had a late meeting. Would you like me to fix you something to eat?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

I offered a weak smile in return before heading upstairs to my room. Once inside, I kicked off my shoes and let out a sigh, leaning against the door. The events of the day replayed in my mind, but one thought kept surfacing above the rest—Leonard.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the wall as memories from the night he’d taken me to the hotel came rushing back. I’d been drunk—no, wasted—and yet, I remembered his steady hands guiding me, his voice calm and reassuring. I had felt safe with him, something I hadn’t expected.

Closing my eyes, I let the memory unfold. His scent had been the first thing I noticed, a subtle blend of cedar and spice that seemed to linger long after he’d left. And then there was the way he looked at me, not with pity or judgment, but something else entirely. A connection, perhaps? Or was it just my drunken imagination?

The thought made my stomach twist. What was I supposed to do with these feelings? I barely knew him, and yet, he was occupying far too much space in my mind.

Determined to shake it off, I grabbed my phone and checked my schedule for the next day. Meetings, emails, deadlines—nothing out of the ordinary. I scrolled aimlessly for a while, hoping the distraction would help. It didn’t.

Eventually, I decided to head downstairs. The quiet of my room was doing nothing to settle my thoughts. In the kitchen, I rummaged through the pantry until I found a pack of microwave popcorn. It wasn’t exactly a gourmet meal, but it would do.

As the kernels began to pop, I leaned against the counter, watching the seconds tick by on the microwave. The rhythmic sound filled the otherwise silent kitchen, and for a moment, it was almost soothing.

Mrs. Rudd poked her head in. “Everything alright, Miss Evelyn?”

I nodded. “Just grabbing a snack.”

“Would you like some tea to go with that?”

“No, thank you,” I replied. “I think I’ll just watch some TV and call it a night.”

She nodded and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. When the microwave beeped, I poured the popcorn into a bowl and headed to the living room.

Settling onto the couch, I flipped through the channels until I landed on a reality cooking show. The dramatic commentary and over-the-top reactions were just distracting enough. For a while, it worked. I even laughed at one contestant’s disastrous attempt to flambé.

But then my thoughts drifted again. This time, they went back to the café earlier in the day. Leonard had been so easy to talk to, and yet, I couldn’t ignore the tension that lingered beneath the surface. Did he remember the kiss? Did he regret it?

I groaned and shoved a handful of popcorn into my mouth, willing myself to focus on the show.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling me out of my thoughts. Frowning, I picked it up and stared at the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

For a moment, I debated ignoring it. But something—curiosity, maybe—made me swipe to answer.

“Hello?” I said cautiously.

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then a familiar voice. “Evelyn, it’s Leonard.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All I could do was sit there, the phone pressed to my ear, completely and utterly speechless.