Chapter 135

Enoch Hains always found me. No matter how I hid, he tracked me down easily. Back then, the only place a little girl like me could disappear to was my tiny room. It wasn’t much of a challenge for him. Still, when I couldn’t bear people’s stares and locked myself away, soon enough his voice would come. Usually a scolding, sometimes a quarrel, and occasionally words I couldn’t even understand.

But what mattered was—he always came first.

Even in our last reunion, though I had called him, it was still Enoch who truly came. I had never once needed to figure out how to approach him. Yet now… calling out to him myself, dragging him to look at me—this felt unbearably awkward.

I slipped inside the room but said nothing.

Enoch must have known I was here the moment I stepped into the building. He always did. He must have sensed me from the end of the corridor, even before the office door opened. The air itself told me I was in his space. But until I spoke, he would not acknowledge me.

“Enoch…”
“……”
“Enoch.”

The name barely left my dry lips. Only then did I realize how hard it was—just saying his name, speaking first. That distance he set between us pressed coldly against my chest.

Maybe he wants to pretend not to know me.

Keith had tried to ignore me too, but that was because he was angry. It had shocked me. But Enoch? …No, I thought, he had every right. What I had done to him had been worse.

He endured until the very end.

I had begged him to kill my husband, to risk his life for me—and he had. He had given me everything. And after it was done, I disappeared without a word.

So if he’s disgusted with me, if he wants to be a stranger now—that’s only fair.

I had never felt love for Enoch Hains.

What I felt was jealousy so sharp it cut me open, self-hatred born from it, and later—gratitude, mixed with pity. But above all, guilt.

The worst, really…

Because guilt meant I couldn’t stay by his side. I had nothing to give back. And yet, because I knew he would forgive me anyway, I had been reckless. Shameless.

So if he had had enough, if he had thrown me away—yes. It was right. Keith forgiving me was already more luck than I deserved. Enoch never would.

Then why was it so unbearable, standing before him now, unseen?

Why was it so painful that he refused to look at me?

Maybe I should leave. Maybe begging him to look at me was selfish. Maybe disappearing was better. No—that wasn’t for him. It was because I hurt, because I wanted to run away.

Cowardice, through and through.

After all, I was the one who once begged him—don’t give up on me, no matter how much it hurts.

“Enoch Hains. Look at me.”
“……”
“Enoch…”

My voice was like the crawl of an ant. I clenched my fists and lowered my head before the courage slipped away. Then—I heard him rise from his chair.

Was he leaving? The thought made tears sting my eyes. But his footsteps stopped right in front of me.

I lifted my head.

“……”
“……”

Enoch had grown older, but hardly changed. In his face, I could still see the boy who once sought me out, throwing sharp words my way.

I exhaled, weakly. And with that breath, his iron mask cracked. His expression fell away.

You fool…

I had never loved him. I couldn’t. I wasn’t someone capable of that kind of beauty. Even loving Marie had been a miracle. I couldn’t love, and I wasn’t someone worth loving.

So what was this, breaking inside me? Something long-buried. Something stubborn.

The moment his wall dropped, it burst open. I tried to speak, but the air threatened to spill out of me, so I shut my mouth. Instead, tears poured down.

I hated myself for it—so cowardly, crying like this. I covered my face with both hands. But Enoch caught my wrists and pulled them away.

He stared at me, lips trembling. My vision blurred with tears, but that was almost better. I didn’t want to see his face, not like this.

Turn away. Pretend not to see. Please… don’t be weak for me again.

I never loved you. I couldn’t.

But he just held my hands, keeping me from hiding. I shook, trapped in his gaze, and sobbed. Then—he chuckled.

“Why are you laughing…?”
“……”
“Why laugh? Don’t. Don’t look at me.”

But he didn’t release me. He tilted his head slightly, and said:

“Serves you right.”

“…What?”
“Serves you right, Florence.”

“Hey—” I tried to twist free. He almost let me go, but I lashed out, accusing:

“What’s so funny to you?”
“……”
“What do you think is so good you can laugh?”

“…Because now I know.”

He released me at last, let me stand upright, then tugged my sleeve down to gently dab at the corners of my eyes.

“Now I know. Waiting was worth it.”

“….”

He wouldn’t explain. He never did. He wiped the tears away, then pulled me into his arms. My face sank into his shoulder. I could only breathe, shaky, my head hanging low.

“Been sleeping well?”
“….”
“Eating well?”
“….”
“I can see the answer on your face already, but I’ll ask anyway—you cried before I even got a good look.”

“….”

“Florence. Have you thought about me?”

“…I have…”

Whenever I drank lime water.
Whenever sunlight touched a glass of ice water on the table.
Whenever the suffocating summer breeze loosened for just a moment.
Whenever I sat by the window, listening to voices from outside.

I thought of Enoch Hains. Of the way he had found me. Of his words—telling me to follow my own heart.

He wasn’t a fool. He hadn’t always been gentle. He had seen things in me even I hadn’t known. He couldn’t have been sure, couldn’t have known what I felt.

And yet—he bet everything. He waited.

Even without knowing whether I could ever love him.

“…Yes. I thought of you.”
“Then that’s enough.”
“I’ve been sleeping, eating…”
“Good girl.”
“…I’m sorry, Enoch. I’m sorry.”

He laughed quietly into my neck. His shoulder shook with the sound, warm against me. My eyes grew hot again.

“I didn’t wait just to hear another apology.”

“….”

“I told you. As long as you’re the one to say it first—I’ll do anything, Florence.”

I sniffled, and wrapped my arms around him. And whispered, soft but certain, words only he could hear—

Clumsy, selfish, desperate words. Beautiful all the same.