Chapter 111
"I don't believe Dominic is avoiding Evelyn because he's upset," Adrian said thoughtfully. "His bodyguard mentioned his face is covered in scratches from the fall. A man as proud as him wouldn't want anyone seeing him like that."
Sophie's eyes widened. "That makes sense! I should tell Evelyn before she spirals into overthinking." She quickly sent Evelyn a text, relaying what Adrian had shared.
Evelyn replied with a simple heart emoji.
Sophie: [Dominic's birthday is in two weeks. Any gift ideas?]
Evelyn: [Not yet. I'm clueless.]
Sophie: [Since winter's here, why not knit him a sweater?]
Evelyn: [Seriously? Who even wears handmade sweaters anymore?]
Sophie: [Trust me, men love that kind of thing.]
Evelyn: [Problem is, I don’t know how to knit!]
Sophie: [The yarn shop will teach you! Or just watch tutorials. You're smart—you'll figure it out.]
Evelyn: [Why are you so insistent on this?]
Sophie: [Because it works! Adrian still cherishes a sweater his first love made him years ago. Drives me crazy, but I refuse to knit him one myself!]
Evelyn stood frozen in the snow, staring at her phone in disbelief.
A cab pulled up, snapping her back to reality.
An hour later, she arrived at Clara’s apartment, clutching a bag of yarn.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Knitting a scarf?"
Evelyn’s cheeks flushed. "Actually… a sweater."
Clara smirked. "For whom? Don’t tell me it’s for Dominic?"
"It’s for you, Mom," Evelyn lied, then quickly added, "But since his birthday’s first, I’ll practice on his. Yours will be better."
Clara laughed. "I’m teasing! I didn’t know knitting sweaters was still a thing. Thought that trend died with my generation."
"Sophie swears by it."
"Guess old trends really do come back," Clara mused. "Need help? It’s time-consuming."
Evelyn shook her head. "I’ve got two weeks. I’ll manage."
Dominic sat in his wheelchair on the balcony, watching the snow fall.
His mind had been numb for days, his heart hollow.
The pain that once consumed him had dulled into silence.
He didn’t want visitors. Didn’t want noise.
The only thought that pierced the fog was when his aching body reminded him of how close he’d come to death.
And the realization that nothing would have changed.
The world would keep turning.
Those who mourned him would move on.
No one was irreplaceable.
Yet, there was still one thing he couldn’t release.
He had to stay alive.
His grip tightened on the wheelchair, knuckles whitening.
A single tear slipped free, tracing a cold path down his cheek.
Eleanor sat in the living room, the doctor standing beside her.
"I’m afraid the accident has triggered a relapse of Dominic’s depression," the doctor said quietly.
Eleanor sighed. "I suspected as much. He won’t speak to anyone. He’s shut himself away completely."