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Evelyn's POV

Today is my fourth-year marriage anniversary with my husband, Leonard, and for once, I want to make it special. In the past, our anniversaries were often overlooked or brushed aside. Work always came first—his meetings, his business trips, or his late nights at the office. There was always something. And also because Leonard and I have been distant for a while now. Not that we quarrel or anything.

I have plans laid out for today, including an exclusive dinner I've planned with the help of Maya. She encouraged me to do this.

This time, I’m determined to break that pattern. I want to show Leonard how much he means to me, even if he hasn’t quite reciprocated those feelings the way I want him to over the years. I've known Leonard to be a man of few words, not knowing how to show affection properly. But this is also one of the reasons I fell in love with him. But I've always thought that maybe if I try hard enough, he’ll see how much I care for him—how much I've fallen in love with him.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror as I curl the last section of my auburn hair. The soft waves cascade over my shoulders, framing my face. My makeup is light yet elegant—a touch of blush, a soft shimmer on my eyelids, and a nude lip gloss that enhances my natural look. Satisfied, I smile to myself, feeling a rare sense of hope bubble within me.

He's going to love it. He's going to love me, I smile to myself even more. This feeling is comforting and I cannot wait to see Leonard Sinclair my dear husband.

I walk to my closet and retrieve the long purple dress I bought yesterday specially for this occasion. The fabric flows like liquid silk, and the color complements my fair complexion. I chose it because purple is Leonard’s favorite color—at least that's what I thought—and I wanted to wear something that would catch his eye. As I slip it on, I recall the one time Leonard complimented my hairstyle.

His exact words were, “You look good with your hair like that.” That small moment had stayed with me longer than I’d like to admit. It felt really nice. It gave me hope that maybe our marriage is not all that bad. That maybe it wasn't even bad at all.

Styling my hair the same way now, I hope it’ll bring a similar reaction—a smirk, a passing comment, or maybe even an affectionate glance. I want to believe that today could be different from the normal cold days, that maybe I’ll get a glimpse of the man I’ve been hoping to reach for the past years.

When I check the time, my heart skips. It’s almost noon, Leonard’s usual lunch break. I grab my black Chanel bag and slip on my matching heels—a black silhouette. When I'm done, I wear my best perfume. Then I step out of the room, moving quickly but carefully down the staircase.

“Good day, ma’am. The cookies have been packed,” Anabel, the head chef, says as I step into the living room. She's wearing a bright smile and she's holding the red box of cookies, tied with a white neat ribbon.

“Thank you, Anabel. Have Sarah take them to the car,” I reply with a small nod.

The cookies are my personal touch. I personally woke up early—while Leonard was heading out for work— to bake them myself, wanting something homemade. He’s not the type to get excited over gifts or gestures, but I thought, maybe this will be different.

As I slide into the car, I glance out of the window, imagining his reaction. Will he smile? Will he even care? But I shove the doubts aside, determined to make this moment count.

“Good day Ma'am” Mikel, the driver says, opening the car door for me.

I reply with a nod of my head and hop in.

---------

The drive to Leonard’s office is a short one, though the nervous anticipation makes it feel much longer. My fingers drum against the box of cookies on my lap as I gaze out of the car window, imagining his reaction. Will he be surprised? Annoyed? Indifferent? But I push the thoughts aside. I can’t let self-doubt ruin this moment.

When we arrive at the towering glass building that houses Leonard’s company, I take a deep breath. The driver opens the door for me, and I step out, clutching the cookie box tightly. I adjust my dress and walk into the reception area, my heels clicking against the marble floors.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Sinclair,” the receptionist greets me politely.

“Good afternoon, Amanda. Is Leonard in his office?”

“He’s in, but he’s busy with a client right now,” she replies, her tone hesitant.

“That’s alright. I’ll wait for him,” I say, offering a polite smile.

Amanda looks uncomfortable. “Actually, Mr. Evans has requested no interruptions during his meetings. Perhaps you could come back later?”

I blink at her, taken aback. “It’s only two minutes to his lunch break, isn’t it? I won’t take much of his time.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Amanda insists, her voice firm. “He gave strict instructions.”

The rejection stings, but something about Amanda’s demeanor feels... off. There’s a nervous edge to her tone, and she constantly avoids meeting my gaze. My stomach churns as unease creeps in. Why is she acting like this?

I look toward the elevators, my resolve hardening. “I’ll just let him know I’m here,” I say briskly, walking past the reception desk before Amanda can protest.

“Ma’am, wait!” She calls after me, but I ignore her, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the top floor. Before she can even reach me, the elevator doors slide close.

---

The elevator ride feels eternal. My heart pounds as doubt and fear swirl in my chest. What if he’s truly busy? What if I embarrass him? But Amanda’s behavior lingers in my mind, fueling my suspicion. Something isn’t right.

When the doors slide open, I step into the hallway leading to Leonard’s private office. His secretary, Michelle, rises from her desk, her expression panicked.

“Mrs. Evans, you can’t—”

“I just need a moment,” I say sharply, brushing past her before she can stop me. My heels echo against the polished floor as I reach Leonard’s office door.

I hesitate for a split second, my hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.

As I walk in, the first thing I notice is the stillness of the room as the familiar scent of cedarwood fills my nostrils. That's my husband's scent.

My eyes scan the place, I don't see him in his work seat. My gaze sweeps across the space—the neat desk and the large windows that overlook the city.

“Leonard,” I call out almost in a whisper as I proceed further. But there's no answer. I'm almost beginning to think that there's nobody inside the office, but then I hear Leonard's deep chuckle.

But then I see them.

It’s fleeting—a blur of movement that makes my breath catch. My hand tightens around the box of cookies as my heart plummets, a cold weight settling in my chest.

I can’t look away, but I can’t bring myself to fully process what’s in front of me. My vision swims, and for a moment, the world tilts on its axis.