Chapter 38
Evelyn held the phone, frozen for a second.
She looked at Matthew.
Matthew's brow had already furrowed, and he reached for the phone.
But Emma's voice continued from the other end:
"Miss Arden, my mother-in-law keeps mentioning that porridge you made for her. The one from before."
"If you're free today, could you come by?"
An image of Marsha flashed through Evelyn's mind.
Silver hair, eyes crinkling when she smiled, always holding her hand when she talked.
She was the only one in the Perkins family who'd never looked at her that way.
"...Okay," she said. "I'll come tomorrow."
"Thank you." Emma paused, then her tone shifted. "Also, there's something I need to say."
Evelyn didn't respond.
"Matthew is already engaged," Emma's voice turned sharp. "You know that, right?"
"So stop chasing after him. Your little schemes won't work. Not just anyone can marry into the Perkins family."
Evelyn listened, her lips slowly curving into a faint, cool smile.
"Mrs. Perkins," she said evenly, "you should probably figure out who can't leave who first."
"If you can get Mr. Perkins to let me go, I'd be thrilled."
Emma paused, her tone changing. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—" Before Evelyn could finish, her phone was yanked away.
Matthew's voice was ice cold. "Mom, I'm the one who can't leave her. Anything else?"
Silence on the other end for a few seconds.
"Matthew, you..."
"If not, I'm hanging up." Matthew cut her off. "I'm bringing her with me later."
He hung up and handed the phone back to her.
Evelyn took it without a word.
Matthew looked at her, voice low. "I'm sorry."
Evelyn paused, then smiled faintly. "I'm used to it."
Matthew's brow furrowed.
"We'll go to the nursing home together later," he said. "I haven't visited Grandma in a while either."
Evelyn nodded and said nothing more.
---
The Perkins Group nursing home was built on a mountain, far from the city, surrounded by dense vegetation.
Evelyn leaned against the window, watching the passing trees, her mind drifting.
She'd seen Marsha a few times since being with Matthew.
The first time was at the Perkins Estate.
Matthew had left to handle something, and she sat anxiously on the sofa, unsure what to do.
While she was spacing out, an elderly woman in a wheelchair was wheeled over by a caregiver.
The old woman's eyes lit up when she saw her.
"Oh, you must be Eve! Matthew showed me your picture."
Evelyn knelt down. The old woman took her hand, smiling as she looked her over.
"You're so pretty. That boy has good taste."
That was the first time she'd felt genuine kindness in the Perkins family.
She learned later that Marsha had stomach issues, and she happened to know how to make gentle, nutritious porridge.
Her grandmother had taught her, saying girls should learn to take care of themselves.
She'd made porridge for Marsha a few times. The old woman loved it, always saying, "You treat me better than my own family."
After that, her visits became less frequent.
Thinking about it now, it had been over six months since she'd last seen the old woman.
"What are you thinking about?" Matthew asked beside her.
Evelyn snapped back to attention.
"Nothing," she said. "Almost there?"
"Yeah."
The car rounded the last bend, and the nursing home's white walls and red tiles came into view.
---
As soon as Evelyn walked into the room, she saw Marsha in her wheelchair, looking toward the door.
When she spotted Evelyn, the old woman's eyes lit up instantly.
"Eve!"
Evelyn hurried over and knelt down.
Marsha grabbed her hand, her mouth trembling like a wronged child.
"Why haven't you come to see me in so long?"
Evelyn's eyes stung.
She gently hugged Marsha, her cheek against the old woman's white hair.
"I'm sorry, Grandma. I'll come more often."
Marsha's hand stroked her face, murmuring, "Silly girl, you've gotten so thin."
Evelyn closed her eyes. Marsha's hands... were as warm as her grandmother's.
---
In the kitchen, Evelyn tied on an apron and started making porridge.
The fragrance slowly filled the air, steam drifting out the window.
The porridge was almost ready. She was about to ladle it out when—
"Smells wonderful."
An elderly voice came from behind her.
Evelyn turned.
An old woman in a wheelchair was being pushed in by a blond man, peering curiously into the kitchen.
Her hair was completely white, deep wrinkles on her face, but her eyes were bright and curious.
"Young lady, what are you making? I could smell it all the way down the hall." The old woman smiled warmly.
"It reminds me of someone from long ago... Many years back, she used to make this kind of fragrant porridge for me too."
Evelyn smiled. "Nothing special. Just good for health."
"Could I try some?" The old woman looked at her hopefully.
Evelyn nodded and ladled out a small bowl.
The old woman took it and brought it to her lips.
Her hands stilled.
Her eyes slowly reddened.
"...So similar. Just like hers."
Evelyn didn't know what she meant, but didn't ask.
She and the blond man simply watched as the old woman slowly finished the bowl.
Just then, a little boy suddenly appeared, clutching his leg as he approached Evelyn.
"Miss, I scraped my leg. Can you bandage it for me?" He looked up at her pitifully.
Evelyn glanced down. His knee was indeed scraped, with some blood.
She turned to the housekeeper in the kitchen.
"Could you bring the porridge to the front room?" she said. "I'll help him bandage up and be right back."
The housekeeper nodded.
Evelyn took the boy's hand and left the kitchen.
By the time she finished treating his wound and returned, the pot was empty.
The efficient housekeeper had already served everything and taken it away.
The old woman was gone too.
Evelyn didn't think much of it, wiped her hands, and headed to the front room.
---
In the front room, Marsha was holding a bowl of porridge.
Evelyn walked over and sat beside her.
Grandma took a sip and looked up with a smile.
Evelyn was about to speak when she suddenly noticed red welts breaking out across Grandma's hands.
She froze.
Then Grandma's breathing became labored, her face turning pale.
"Grandma?!" Evelyn jumped to her feet.
The bowl slipped from Grandma's hands and shattered on the floor with a crash.
"What's going on?!"
A sharp voice cut through from the doorway.
Emma rushed in. Seeing Marsha's condition, her face went white.
She spun around, eyes landing on Evelyn.
"This is the porridge you made?" she demanded.
Evelyn's mouth opened. "Yes, but—"
A sharp slap cracked across her face.
Evelyn's head snapped to the side, her cheek burning.
Emma's voice was shrill and piercing. "What were you thinking?! What did you put in that porridge?!"
Evelyn pressed her hand to her face, ears ringing.
She stood there watching as Grandma was rushed to the medical room, her mind completely blank.