I glanced at the screen… Magnus. I declined the call, but it started ringing again almost Immediately. Over and over. It was getting on my
nerves.
When I finally picked up, my voice came out sharp.
“Magnus, can you just stop?”
His voice on the other end was cold, cutting.
“Evelyn, come home. Now.”
He still thought I was the same as before.
“Not coming back,” I said quietly.
I was never someone who craved a quiet life. But for him, I gave up a lot. My career. My identity. Even my temper.
Magnus wanted his Mrs. Finck to be gentle, gracious, agreeable–the perfect woman. So I tried to become that, molding myself into what he wanted.
But honestly, living against your my nature… it’s exhausting. I was done with play–pretend. There was a pause on the other end, then he said, “Eve, don’t be childish. Come home.”
It was the first time in years he’d called me that–Eve. So casually, like we hadn’t become
strangers.
It pulled a memory to the surface–our very first meeting. He’d been kind then, warm. I remember the way he patted my head and said, “Eve,” so gently.
I was ten when my parents died in an accident.
Before that, my father and Magnus had been close–friends, despite the age gap. My dad had entrusted me to him with his final breath. After that, I moved into the Finck household. In the beginning, Magnus treated me like I was made of glass. Whatever I wanted, he found a way to make it happen.
Once, I asked for a rare comic book that was only available in limited release. He spent the entire day combing through bookstores across the city, only showing up at my door late that night–book in hand, exhausted but smiling.
Whenever thunderstorms rolled in at night and I curled up under the covers, too scared to sleep, Magnus would always appear–like clockwork.
He’d sit at the edge of my bed, gently patting my back, whispering soft lullabies until I drifted off.
His voice–deep and steady–would carry me through countless stories, soothing my fears. Under his protection I lived those voare in a bubble of nose.
But everything ch
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A That night, he was drunk. I gathered all my courage and confessed my feelings, hoping-
praying for a response.
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drifted off.
His voice–deep and steady–would carry me through countless stories, soothing my fears. Under his protection, I lived those years in a bubble of peace.
But everything changed the night I turned eighteen.
That night, he was drunk. I gathered all my courage and confessed my feelings, hoping- praying for a response.
After that, it was like he became someone else. The warmth he used to show me vanished,
like it had never been there to begin with.
On the phone, Magnus’s voice was still pressing, “Evelyn, come home. Don’t believe whatever those other men are telling you.”
I hesitated for a moment, then agreed. I’d been planning to go back anyway–to pack my things.
Before I left, Sven handed me a folder. “What you asked for, it’s done.”
I opened the door, lifted the file slightly in thanks and said goodbye.
When I got home, Magnus wasn’t there yet. I went straight to the bedroom closet and stared at the rows of clothes, then began packing.
I wasn’t even halfway done when Magnus stormed in. He spotted the suitcase on the bed,
my hands. rushed over and yanked the clothes from
“What the hell are you doing?” he barked.
I stayed calm. “Packing. I’m moving out. And I need you to sign the divorce papers.”
His expression hardened, like I’d just knocked the air out of him.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” Then his tone turned harsh, almost threatening. “This is about that other guy, isn’t it? Who is he? Tell me!”
I shook my head. “It’s not about anyone else. I just don’t want to be with you anymore.”
That’s when he lost it. He grabbed the suitcase and threw it across the room.
The sound startled me. I’d never seen him that angry before.
He pulled me toward him, gripping my arm tightly, his voice low and furious. “Evelyn! Do you think you can just decide whatever you want and I’ll go along with it?”
