Chapter 4: Goodbye, Old World

When Lauren woke, sunlight streamed through the curtains. She stretched, groggy from a night of restless sleep.

Evan was gone, but a sticky note in his neat handwriting sat on the table: "Had something at the office. I’ll be back soon with breakfast."

She smiled, tucking the note into her phone case as a tiny keepsake.

Her phone buzzed with missed calls—her assistant, but mostly Mike, her manager, flooding her with texts.

She replied, "What’s up, Mike?" adding a winking emoji.

He shot back: "You’re up to your old tricks again, huh?"

Lauren grinned, texting, "Eating forbidden fruit."

Mike: "?" followed by a barrage of confused emojis.

"Drop your location. I’m coming to check if you’re still alive."

She sent her pin, then grabbed a coat and, out of habit, a mask to cover her face—just in case someone recognized her from her last TV gig.

Mike: "Ten minutes."

She paused at the mirror, adjusted her mask, and slipped into her sneakers.

Unexpectedly, the door was locked from the outside.

She rattled the handle, frowning. Why would Evan lock it? Habit? Old fears?

She pressed the handle, then searched for a spare key. Memories of Evan’s old protectiveness surfaced—his need to double-check every lock.

With a sigh, Lauren focused, letting a surge of white energy gather in her palm—a soft, tingling warmth—and the lock clicked open. She slipped out, careful not to draw attention.

Mike was already waiting, arms crossed. He eyed her up and down, checking for trouble.

"Mike, wait." She caught his arm, serious now.

"What now?" He turned, eyebrow raised.

"I might be quitting this job. Wanted to tell you first."

She took a breath, bracing herself for his reaction.

"Don’t pull that on me—did you get in trouble again?" He sounded half-annoyed, half-worried.

"No trouble." She shook her head.

"You’re serious?" He dropped the jokes, voice earnest.

"Yeah. Planning to travel. If Evan’s in, I’m going with him."

Mike stared, then let out a low whistle.

"Didn’t think you’d actually do it. How long have you two known each other?"

"About fifteen years, with a break in the middle."

"That long? How come I never heard...? Whatever. If you’re sure, you’re sure. There’s more to life than this job."

He ruffled her hair, half-gruff, half-affectionate.

"Alright, get back upstairs—it’s freezing. I’ll handle your contract."

He pulled his jacket tighter, heading to his car.

"Mike, thank you. For everything."

He waved, not looking back.

As he left, the wind stung his eyes; he wiped his face, muttering, "This kid..."

After chatting, Lauren headed back upstairs, anxiety twisting in her gut—Evan would know she’d gone out.

The apartment door was ajar, breakfast takeout scattered on the floor—coffee spilled, a breakfast sandwich on its side, oatmeal splattered across the tile.

She pictured Evan dropping everything in panic, terrified she’d vanished again.

She closed the door quietly, hearing Evan’s voice from the study—frantic, breathless.

"Check the security cams—now!"

"Evan." Lauren’s voice cut through the panic.

He spun, relief crashing over his face, then crossed the room in seconds, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. His hands shook as he buried his face in her hair.

Lauren hugged him back, rubbing his back, whispering, "Sorry, Evan. I know I scared you. I won’t do it again."

She pulled back, meeting his eyes. "But you can’t lock me up. If I want to leave, you have to trust me."

She hesitated. "But don’t worry—I don’t want to leave. Not anymore."

She brushed his hair from his forehead.

Evan nodded, eyes shining with relief. She could break any lock, but she chose to stay.

Lauren patted his back, humming softly, rocking him until his breathing slowed.

After a while, Evan let go, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, embarrassed.

Lauren smiled, brushing away his tears. "Still such a kid... don’t cry, okay?"

She kissed his forehead, then his nose, then the corners of his eyes, kissing away every last tear.

Evan closed his eyes, letting her comfort him.

She pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, smiling. "It’s my fault. Can you forgive me?"

He didn’t answer, but wrapped his arms around her, lifting her onto the desk, sending pens and papers tumbling.

She let out a surprised laugh, wrapping her legs around his waist for balance.

He leaned in, his lips hot on hers, hands gripping her waist.

He kissed her deeply, his shirt half-unbuttoned, sweat trailing down his neck.

When they finally broke apart, Lauren was breathless, Evan’s eyes still red at the corners.

"I thought you were going to leave again," he whispered.

"No, I won’t leave you again."

"Sis won’t leave again, right?"

She hesitated, then leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Evan, before I met you, I’d traveled through so many worlds. But I still wanted to come home. I want to take you home with me—show you the city square, the maple tree on my old campus, the little white cat that lives downstairs, my parents... and tell them you’re the one I want to spend my life with."

She squeezed his hand, voice trembling. "Evan, will you come home with me?"

He stared at her, overwhelmed, then nodded, unable to speak.

She smiled, brushing his hair back. "You have my energy in you. I can take you back. But think about it—it’s a new world. No friends, no family, no way back. Only me."

He squeezed her hand. "That’s all I want."

She blushed, ducked her head, and began picking up the things that had fallen.

A tin box caught her eye—her old candy box from Maple Heights, now filled with sticky notes. She read them aloud, voice thick with nostalgia.

"Evan, I’m going out. Evan, I’m grocery shopping. Sis has to go to Silver Hollow..."

She smiled at the doodles, then turned to the last note. "Evan, be well. Sorry."

She pressed it to her chest, tears stinging her eyes.

Evan gently took the box from her. "Let me."

"Go eat breakfast. Even if it fell, it probably didn’t spill."

Lauren grinned, nudging him. "Sure, ‘accidentally.’"

He rolled his eyes, but let her tug him toward the kitchen.

"Let’s clean up later. Come eat. Did you eat lunch yesterday?"

He looked away, sheepish. "Not really."

"Breakfast?"

He scratched his neck. "Not really."

She shook her head, exasperated but fond.

She remembered the original story—Evan dying young from stomach cancer. She squeezed his hand, vowing to take better care of him.

The oatmeal was still warm. Lauren watched Evan eat his sandwich, sipping oatmeal herself.

Her hair kept slipping from behind her ear; Evan reached over, tucking it back.

She caught him glancing at her shirt cuffs, smiled, and patted his head. "Eat up."

She left, then returned with a hair clip and a pair of cufflinks. She knelt beside him, fastening the cufflinks with gentle fingers.

Evan was silent, then said, "Don’t we look like a pair?"

"Yeah, we do." Lauren smiled, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

She stood. "Evan, have you finished eating?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now, come with me to the hospital for a checkup."

Evan looked startled. "Are you sick?"

"Let’s see if your stomach’s working." She poked his side, teasing.

On the way, Evan’s phone kept buzzing. He silenced it, telling his assistant he was headed to the hospital. Lauren overheard words like "Despair" and "audition."

She realized she’d forgotten about today’s audition for the game "Despair," where Evan was a judge.

She laughed, shaking her head—so much for her careful plans.

Evan had skipped work to come with her. She squeezed his hand, grateful.

She shot him a teasing look. "Skipping out on your CEO duties, huh?"

Her laughter echoed in the waiting room, drawing glances from the nurses.

Evan opened his eyes. "What’s so funny?"

She shook her head, still smiling.

He didn’t press, but his smile faded as he looked past her, tension creeping into his posture.

Lauren followed his gaze—two men and a woman approached. The woman, dressed in a black suit, makeup immaculate, bore a resemblance to Evan.

She stood tall, every inch the businesswoman.

Lauren’s mind raced—who was she?

The shorter man slipped behind Evan, looking awkward.

"Mr. Cole, sorry. Ms. Chandler was at the company..." the assistant stammered.

Evan faced the woman. "Why are you here?"

Lauren realized—this must be Ruth Chandler, Evan’s mother.

Ruth Chandler’s tone was crisp and cold, her eyes flicking over Lauren. "You’ve been gone from the company for two days just to hang around with this girl?"

Evan said nothing.

She looked Lauren up and down. "Just a minor celebrity—not even marriage material. Do as you please." She waved a dismissive hand. "If you can support a girl, that’s good. It means you’ve let go of that woman in your heart."

She remembered Evan lost and numb years ago—she’d seen enough.

"About what I mentioned before..." She straightened her jacket.

Evan glanced at Lauren, smiled, then turned to Ruth Chandler, rubbing his left cufflink. "Let’s talk over there."

Lauren watched them walk away, then sat quietly, waiting for Evan to return.

She fiddled with her phone, but before she could ask the assistant about Evan, Nathan Chandler burst in, grabbing her sleeve.

"Where’s my brother?"

She pointed. Nathan relaxed, letting out a long sigh. He’d thought his brother and mother would fight—scared him to death.

Lauren handed him a tissue. A pale hand with blue veins snatched it away—the strange assistant.

"Sorry, the pattern caught my eye. I just wanted a look." He handed the tissue to Nathan, who muttered under his breath.

Once the checkup confirmed Evan’s stomach was fine, he and Ruth Chandler returned. Lauren breathed a sigh of relief.

Ruth Chandler’s gaze lingered on Lauren. Lauren bowed slightly. "Hello, Ms. Chandler. I’m Lauren."

Ruth nodded curtly, then turned to leave.

"Wait, Ms. Chandler." Lauren gestured to the odd assistant. "Who is this gentleman?"

Ruth hesitated. "My assistant."

Lauren nodded. "Thank you."

She watched them leave, making a mental note to ask Evan later.

On the way home, Evan told Lauren about Ruth Chandler—her business marriage, her absence, her sudden return.

Lauren frowned. "So she’s only here for her company?"

Evan nodded. "She wants me to agree to a business marriage."

"With who?"

He shrugged. "Didn’t really listen."

Lauren glared. "I’m jealous."

Evan grinned, kissing her temple. "She won’t get an answer. By then, we’ll be gone."

Nathan, in the back seat, groaned. "Why am I even here?"

At a red light, Evan glanced at Lauren. "Why’d you greet her?"

"She’s your mom, so... kinda like my, um..." She trailed off, embarrassed.

Evan smirked. "Why’d you ask about her assistant?"

Lauren winked. "He looked weird. Wanted to get to know him."

Evan rolled his eyes.

She nudged him. "Just kidding. Compared to you, he’s nothing."

"Green light. Let’s go."

Nathan hugged his knees, muttering, "This is too sweet. I’m hugging my single self."

Back at the apartment, Nathan disappeared into the study with Evan. Lauren watched TV, but her mind wandered to the muffled voices down the hall.

As night fell, Lauren stared at the rain outside. Nathan came out alone, looking heavy-hearted.

He paused. "Sis-in-law."

His voice was shaky, eyes wet. "Take care of my brother, please. He’s not good at showing it, but he cares a lot."

He shrugged. "I’m gonna miss him."

He grabbed his jacket, pausing at the door. "My brother really likes you. Please treat him well."

Lauren nodded solemnly.

The rain outside was dense, more like spring than summer. Lauren traced hearts in the condensation, her mood bittersweet.

Nathan’s goodbye stirred up her own melancholy. Soon, she’d leave this world—a place that felt like home.

She hugged her knees, staring out at the city she’d grown to love.

This place carried her deepest love and pain, making her reluctant to part.

She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, breath fogging the window.

"What’s wrong?"

Evan hugged her from behind. She leaned into him.

"Just sad about leaving."

He rested his chin on her shoulder, holding her close.

"Do you like rain?" she asked.

Evan nodded, kissing her temple.

"Me too. You know why?"

"Why?"

She squeezed his hand. "Because the first time I met you, it was raining."

He held her tighter.

After a long silence—

"Will the rain mess up the going-home thing?"

"No." She shook her head, surprised by the seriousness in his eyes.

"Sis, let’s go."

"Now?"

"Now." He’d already told Nathan. He had no more attachments—only her.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

In the rain at dusk, Evan held a black umbrella. Lauren leaned close, and they walked together.

There were few people on the street. The rain muffled every sound.

"Evan, in the end you still shared an umbrella with me," Lauren teased.

"Good memory," he replied.

She rested her head on his shoulder. Lauren had a terrible memory for most things, but when it came to Evan, she remembered everything.

Maybe, deep down, she’d always known she’d love him.

The rain shrouded the city, white mist blurring neon lights.

They walked in silence, footsteps echoing—a quiet promise of all the tomorrows yet to come.