Chapter 233 102
A hush fell over the compound the moment Adrian made the request.
The twins gasped dramatically. George swallowed hard. Even Wendy’s eyes widened in quiet curiosity.
And Amelia… Amelia actually blinked.
Did Adrian just ask her that?
For a split second, she wondered if she had misheard him. Tea? Inside this house? The very house she had walked out of years ago with her dignity barely stitched together?
She smiled, that controlled, elegant smile she wore when she needed time to think. She was already forming the polite refusal in her head.
‘No, thank you. Maybe next time.’
‘The boys need to leave.’
‘I have work.’
But before a single word could escape her lips—
“Yeah! That is a great idea!” Gabriel burst out.
“Yes, mummy! Come in! We would love it!” Gaddiel chimed, gripping her hand tighter as if she might disappear again.
Amelia turned to them, her smile softening into something maternal and patient.
“Honey,” she said gently, smoothing Gabriel’s hair, “we really need to head back home, you know. School tomorrow, and I have to be at work. We need to go back home on time.”
Her tone was firm but kind, the voice of a responsible mother who had already made up her mind.
But the twins were not backing down.
“Pleaseee!”
“Just small time!”
“We want to show you something!”
George cleared his throat politely.
“It would only be a few minutes, ma,” he added respectfully.
Adrian said nothing at first. He simply looked at her, not pleading now, but hopeful. But vulnerable, and waiting.
Then quietly, “Just tea,” he said.
There was something in his voice. Not pressure. Not command.
Just… sincerity.
Amelia exhaled.
Her shoulders dropped slightly, that was the smallest surrender.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Just tea.”
“Just tea,” Adrian echoed quickly, as if sealing a fragile agreement.
“Yeeeee!” the boys screamed in triumph, clinging to her arms as though they had won a championship.
And together— ex-wife, ex-husband, children, staff, they walked toward the grand doors of the mansion.
Amelia crossed the threshold slowly. The first time she had stepped out of this house, she had been heartbroken. Now, she stepped back in. Just for tea.
Late into the night, the mansion had grown quiet.
The twins had gone back with Amelia, probably asleep in their bedroom right now, their earlier excitement finally surrendered to exhaustion. Wendy had retired to her room, George maybe. Even the night seemed softer and calmer, as though it, too, was aware that something unusual had happened within those walls that evening.
Adrian sat alone at the dining table.
His laptop was open before him, spreadsheets and proposals glaring back on the screen, but he hadn’t typed a single word in the last ten minutes. The cup that had once held tea now sat empty at his right hand, a faint ring of amber at the bottom.
He exhaled slowly.
The evening replayed in his mind with relentless clarity.
Amelia sitting in that very chair across from him. The twins squeezed on either side of her, arguing over who would pour her more tea. The sound of her laughter which was restrained at first, then freer as the boys teased her, filled the air. The way she had instinctively wiped Gabriel’s mouth with a napkin. The way she had thanked George politely.
And the way she had avoided looking at him for too long.
A small smile tugged at Adrian’s lips.
For a brief hour, it had felt normal.
Like before.
Like the house had remembered what it was built for.
Hazel would run gaga if she heard, he thought, shaking his head faintly. She had warned him for years that he would regret his choices. She would probably scream “I told you so!” from across the world.
The smile widened.
He was still lost in the memory when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.
He jolted slightly.
“Oh! George,” he said, looking up.
George stood beside him, hands clasped respectfully in front of him, a knowing smile resting on his face.
“You are pretty having a great time, sir,” George said lightly.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, closing the laptop halfway.
“Why won’t I?” he replied with a soft chuckle.
George laughed quietly and nodded.
“Indeed, sir.”
There was a pause, a comfortable one.
“She is such a homely woman, sir,” George continued carefully. “I mean… your ex-wife.”
Adrian’s smile deepened, though this one carried weight.
“I know,” he said. “Thank you.”
He glanced down at the table, fingers tracing the wood absentmindedly. Then the smile faded slowly, like a candle running out of wax.
“I wish I could turn the hands of time,” he murmured.
Regret lingered in the air.
George shifted slightly but did not interrupt.
“I thought I was in control,” Adrian continued, voice lower now. “I thought I could manage everything.” He scoffed faintly at himself. “I was foolish.”
George chose his words with care.
“Sir… sometimes people only understand the value of a thing when it is no longer theirs.”
Adrian nodded once.
“The house felt alive today.”
“It did,” George agreed. “The boys were… different. Lighter.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened subtly.
“They miss her. And it's their first time seeing her here.”
“They do.”
“And she…” He paused. “She belongs here.”
The statement hung heavy between them.
George studied his employer quietly before speaking again.
“Sir, forgiveness is not impossible.”
Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh.
“You say that like it is simple.”
“It is not simple,” George admitted. “But neither is regret.”
Silence settled for a moment.
Adrian rubbed his palms together slowly.
“When she walked out of this house, I told myself she would cool off. That she would come back. I underestimated her.”
George nodded slightly.
“Madam Amelia carries dignity with her everywhere.”
“That she does,” Adrian whispered.
He leaned back, staring toward the staircase as if expecting to see her descend again.
“I have tried to keep things steady for the kids,” he continued. “Given them structure. Stability. But tonight…” He exhaled. “Tonight reminded me that stability is not the same as wholeness.”
George’s expression softened.
“Sir, may I speak freely?”
Adrian glanced at him.
“You always do.”
George smiled faintly.
“Then forgive me. But if there is still something in your heart for her… you must decide whether you will fight for it or continue watching from a distance.”
Adrian looked away.
“I betrayed her,” he said quietly. “And she does not forget easily.”
“No, sir,” George agreed gently. “But she came in.”
That made Adrian look up.
“She stepped into this house again,” George continued. “That is not a small thing.”
Adrian’s brows furrowed as he considered that.
“She could have refused the tea,” George added. “She could have stayed outside. But she came in.”
Adrian’s chest tightened at the thought.
“She was uncomfortable,” he said.
“Yes,” George replied. “But she did not leave.”
Another long silence followed.
Adrian closed the laptop fully this time and pushed it aside.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted.
“Begin honestly,” George said simply.
Adrian let out a slow breath.
“She has even moved on.”
George hesitated.
“That for one, isn't a barrier.”
Adrian stared at the table again, mind racing. He thought of her laughter earlier. The way she had avoided staying too long. The way she had left quickly once the tea was done.
“She keeps her walls high, you know,” he murmured.
“Walls are built when foundations are shaken,” George replied calmly.
Adrian gave him a long look.
“You sound like a philosopher tonight.”
George chuckled.
“Old age brings reflection, sir.”
That drew a genuine laugh from Adrian. The tension eased slightly.
After a while, George straightened.
“It is late, sir. You should rest.”
Adrian nodded slowly.
“Thank you, George.”
“For what, sir?”
“For speaking truth.”
George bowed his head slightly.
“Goodnight, sir.”
“Goodnight.”
George turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Adrian remained seated for a few moments longer, staring at the empty teacup.
The house was quiet again.
But it no longer felt hollow.
He rose slowly from the chair and switched off the dining lights, his mind still full, not of spreadsheets or contracts, but of a woman who had once called this place home.
And perhaps, just perhaps, still could.