Chapter 68: His secrets

Milie's POV

"I have to know where he is, Aunty."

Silence answered me, and for a moment, I thought Grace Aunty had hung up.

"Milie..." she finally sighed. "Your dad isn't home. Your mom will lose her mind if she finds out you're planning to travel alone."

"I'll call her."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Another pause. Something in her breathing changed.

"Sweetheart..." she began quietly, "...whatever happened between you two must have shaken Alan badly."

My heart clenched.

"Otherwise..." She stopped herself.

Otherwise what? I waited, but she didn't finish the sentence.

Instead, she exhaled softly. "Anyway, I'm texting you the address."

Relief hit me so suddenly my eyes burned. "Thank you."

"And Milie..."

"Yeah?"

"Don't force him to come home."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

"I know."

The call ended, and almost immediately, my phone vibrated.

The moment I read the address, tears filled my eyes.

For two days, the question 'where is he?' 'Is he okay?' had finally been resolved.

And now, no matter what? I needed to see him. Not tomorrow. Not after college. Now.

I quickly wiped the tears and checked the time. There were still two lectures left.

But I lasted there only for 30 seconds.

I walked into the classroom, grabbed my backpack from my chair, ignored the confused look my professor gave me, and walked straight back out.

If anyone had stopped me, I honestly didn't know what I would've said.

Thankfully, neither Sammy nor Daxton had this class.

By the time I reached the parking lot, I had already booked a cab.

Two hours. The driver told me it'd take around two hours, and it felt like two years.

I checked my phone every few minutes. Even though I knew there wouldn't be anything.

Alan's chat looked exactly the same. Just one tick, undelivered.

I opened it anyway. Closed it, and opened it again.

"Maybe Grace Aunty found out through someone else."

"Maybe he hasn't yet turned his phone on."

Just then, my phone buzzed with Daxton's message.

"Mom." I groaned. Grace Aunty worked fast.

I answered anyway. "Hi..."

"Where are you?" She got straight to the point.

"I'm on my way."

"I know that. On your way where?"

I looked out the window. "...To Alan."

"You skipped college?"

"...Yes."

"You've gone alone?"

"Yes."

"Milie Parker."

I smiled despite myself.

She only used my full name when she was trying very hard not to panic.

"You've completely lost your mind."

"I'll be okay."

"It'll be almost evening before you get there."

"I know."

"What if the cab breaks down?"

"I'll call you."

"What if your phone dies?"

"I have a charger."

"What if—"

"Mom."

She stopped.

"I need to do this." I said warmly.

A long silence followed.

"Did you hurt him?"

The question landed somewhere deep.

"...Yes."

"So badly that you couldn't fix it over the phone?"

My throat tightened. "No."

The city slowly disappeared outside the window. Open fields replaced tall buildings.

"Then all the best, darling."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"If your heart says you need to go..."

"...then go."

Relief flooded my chest. "Thank you."

"But call me the second you reach."

"I will."

"And don't tell your father."

A laugh escaped before I could stop it. "I wasn't planning to."

"He'll panic even more than I am."

"I know."

"And Milie?"

"Hm?"

"Don't tell Alan you're coming."

I frowned. "What?"

"If you're going to do something dramatic..."

I already knew where this was headed.

"...at least surprise him properly."

"Mom!"

She laughed

.

"I still can't believe my daughter is doing something this romantic."

"Bye… Bye… Mom!" I hung up before she could tease me any further.

The farther we drove, the quieter everything became.

Traffic disappeared. The roads narrowed. Old brick storefronts replaced glass buildings.

Children chased a soccer ball across an open field.

The whole town felt slower and warmer.

A few minutes later, the driver finally pulled over. "We're here."

I paid him, stepped out, and checked the address once.

Yeah, I was there.

A white farmhouse sat at the end of a gravel driveway. Flower boxes rested beneath every window.

Wind chimes swayed lazily beneath the porch roof.

It wasn't grand. It felt warm and cozy.

I stared at the house. "Why did Alan never mention this place, his grandparents, not once, not even by accident?"

I stepped closer through the lush green patio and heard music through the open windows, followed by laughter.

I stood by the window, and there he was—Alan.

The air left my lungs. For two days, I'd carried a weight so heavy that I thought it would crush me.

But the moment I saw him, it disappeared. Tears blurred my vision.

Not from sadness, but from relief that he was okay.

Inside the living room, Alan was dancing with an older woman.

She couldn't have been much taller than his shoulder.

He spun her dramatically. She laughed so loudly it echoed through the house.

"Alan!"

"What?"

"You're trying to kill me!"

"I'm giving you exercise."

"I'm seventy!"

"Exactly!"

She smacked his arm. He laughed harder—a real laugh.

The kind that reached his eyes.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him laugh without holding something back.

Without pretending everything was fine.

Across the room sat an older man as well. He watched them quietly from an armchair.

His expression barely changed.

After a moment, the old woman marched over, grabbed his wrist, and tugged him.

"Come dance."

"I'm not dancing."

"You danced with me once."

"That was forty years ago."

"So?"

"I was younger."

She rolled her eyes. "So was I."

Alan chuckled. Together, they somehow managed to pull the old man to his feet.

For a brief moment, the three of them stood together.

But something felt different.

Alan smiled, yet the ease he had with his grandmother wasn't there with the older man.

There was respect, kindness, even affection, but also distance.

A distance I couldn't explain, or maybe I was overthinking.

"You must be Alan's girlfriend."

I nearly jumped.

An elderly woman stood beside me holding a basket covered with a checkered cloth.

The smell of fresh bread floated toward me.

"I..." My mouth opened. Then closed again.

What exactly was I supposed to say after everything?

Were we together?

Were we not?

She smiled. "I'll take that as a yes."

Heat rushed into my cheeks.

She then looked through the window. "I'm so happy to see them this happy."

"They've waited a long time for this day."

"For what?"

"For him."

I frowned. "He visits often... right?"

Her smile softened. "No."

My stomach tightened.

"He hasn't been back here in years." She added.

"...Years?"

She nodded. "Yes, but his grandmother never stopped hoping."

"One day, my grandson will walk through that gate again. She used to say."

The woman smiled warmly. "Looks like today was finally that day."

I turned back to the window. Alan had stopped dancing.

His grandmother cupped his face. Then kissed his forehead.

He smiled affectionately.

Grace Aunty's unfinished sentence echoed in my mind. "Something has shaken him badly... Otherwise..."

"He wouldn't have come here." My brain instinctively processed her unspoken words.

"But how?" Why does my rejection make him return to people he had avoided for years?" So many questions whirled inside my head.

"It seemed like a big deal. Aunty even asked me not to force him to come back."

"You should go." The elderly woman adjusted the basket in her arms.

"Hm?"

"They'll be happy to see you, too."

She smiled warmly before continuing down the path.

I remained where I was, looking at the boy I loved, the boy who had disappeared because I broke his heart.

The boy who had come here to mend pieces of himself.

What if he didn't want to see me? What if I only made things worse?

I looked at the front door and took one slow breath, then another.

Finally, I gathered every ounce of courage I had left, walked up the porch steps, and pressed the doorbell.