Chapter 198

Evelyn's eyelashes fluttered slightly. "What?"

Peter Harrison opened his palm to reveal a pink band-aid.

"I saw your finger bleeding downstairs."

She instinctively hid her hands behind her back, feeling the faint sting on her fingertips. She had indeed nicked her finger but had hoped no one would notice.

"Thank you."

"Evelyn, you're always so polite."

"Peter."

"Yes?"

"Do you... have feelings for me?"

His ears turned crimson instantly. His fingers tightened unconsciously around the band-aid wrapper. "I—"

"You don't?"

"No!" His voice cracked with urgency. "I do. I've liked you since college..."

The elevator's arrival chime cut him off.

Evelyn stepped in first and glanced back at him. "Aren't you coming?"

Peter snapped out of his daze and followed, moving stiffly to the farthest corner.

"If I hadn't come back, would you have never told me?"

"I..." He took a deep breath. "Your marriage happened so suddenly. I could only wish you happiness."

His voice dropped, his eyes fixed on the floor behind his glasses.

"What if I never got divorced? What would you have done?"

Peter was silent for a moment. "I would have tried to forget you. And then... married someone suitable."

"Would you have treated her well?"

"Yes." He lifted his gaze, resolute. "If I chose to marry, I would have honored that commitment."

Evelyn suddenly asked, "And if, after your marriage, I came back to you?"

Peter froze.

The elevator doors opened and closed again, but neither moved.

"I would choose her." His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke.

Evelyn arched a brow. "Even if I were the better choice?"

"It's not about who's better." His fingers clenched until they turned white. "A promise is a promise."

The early spring wind rustled through the hallway, tousling Evelyn's hair.

She studied the man before her—gentle in appearance but unexpectedly steadfast—and suddenly smiled.

"What if I rejected you?"

Peter's Adam's apple bobbed. "My answer... wouldn't change."

Evelyn turned and pressed the elevator button. As the doors opened, she murmured, "See you tomorrow, Peter."

He stood motionless, watching the doors slide shut. The band-aid in his palm was damp with sweat.