Chapter 146 Someone Will Accompany You to the Future
There's an old saying: to expect nothing was a gift, but to hope for everything was to lose it all.
Quinlan hadn't understood it before. When she finally did, it was far too late.
Leopold set the suitcase down in the guest bedroom and watched her from behind. She was surveying the space, her eyes holding a complex mixture of unspoken hope and quiet relief.
In that moment, he guessed that she, too, had once genuinely wanted a family.
When Quinlan turned, her gaze collided with his. She quickly looked away, feigning a composure she didn't feel. "The apartment is nice."
"The bathroom is right next door," Leopold said, his tone even. "You might hear the water running if you go to bed early."
Quinlan was a light sleeper; the slightest noise could wake her. "That's fine," she replied.
Caroline entered and switched on the humidifier. "Mom, this room is a little smaller than your place in Silverpeak City, but at least it's clean."
"It's not the size of a house that matters, but how comfortable it feels," Quinlan said, her voice softer now. "I quite like the decor." Everything about the space felt warm and inviting.
Caroline opened the closet. "I cleared out some space for you. You can hang your clothes in here."
"You're always so thoughtful."
"Mom, what are you in the mood to eat? I can find a good restaurant, and we can go out," Caroline asked, the question innocent. But it struck a nerve, and a shadow flickered across Quinlan's face. She managed a faint, tight smile.
"Let's just eat at home."
Leopold draped an arm around Caroline's shoulders. "Come on," he said gently, guiding her out. "Let's go to the market and get some groceries."
Only when they were gone did Quinlan close her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she tried to quell the ghosts of her past.
She had once believed that Preston loved her more than anything in the world. She had gambled on it and lost, spectacularly and publicly.
Not long after she first moved, Gemma had found her again. Her apartment was trashed, and she was beaten. She called the police, but Preston intervened, smoothing things over until the issue was dropped.
The news that she was a homewrecker, however, spread like wildfire through the community. Neighbors who had once been friendly now averted their gazes with disgust, their whispers and insults following her like a shroud. Some of the more vile men would make lewd comments to her face.
As Leopold grew, he couldn't be cooped up in the apartment all day. Quinlan started taking him downstairs to play, and every time she passed the gossiping neighbors, she was met with a barrage of thinly veiled insults. It was as if their own husbands had cheated, and she had become the perfect target for their collective rage. Rumors, vicious curses, and vulgar harassment became her daily reality.
Quinlan moved a third time.
For more than a year, the pattern repeated itself. No matter where she moved, Gemma would eventually track her down and cause a scene. At first, Quinlan endured it. Then, pushed to the brink, she started fighting back. She had always disdained such crass, shrewish behavior, yet in the end, she had become the very thing she despised. She could understand Gemma's hatred, her resentment, but no one could live like that indefinitely.
The breaking point came when Leopold was two and ready for preschool. Quinlan decided it was time to return to her career, but Preston shot down the idea.
She could still hear his exact words, dripping with a man's condescending disdain. "I give you money. Why do you need to work? Your job is to take care of our son." He had punctuated the remark with a dismissive glance. "Take a look at yourself in the mirror. What company would even hire you looking like that?"
"What's wrong with me? What do I look like?"
"Just look in the mirror," he had said, his voice laced with impatience.
Quinlan stood before the mirror, her mind still clinging to the image of her most beautiful self. But when she truly saw the reflection staring back, she finally understood what he meant.
She studied the woman she had become over two years: her figure had softened, she had gained weight, the skin on her face was slack, and her hair had thinned. Dressed in a loose, plain housedress with a bare face, she found even herself repulsive.
Her eyes welled with tears. Where had the vibrant, captivating woman she used to be gone?
Preston, seeing her cry, came over to comfort her. Quinlan clung to him, as if he were the last shred of dignity the world had left her.
From that day on, she threw herself into a new regimen: workouts, morning runs, and skincare treatments at a salon. It took her a year and a half, but she transformed herself completely.
When Leopold was just over four, Quinlan, now radiant and confident, was ready to re-enter the workforce. After much pleading, she finally secured Preston's reluctant approval. But just as she was poised to make her comeback, Gemma's hired hands struck again. At a major business event, they ambushed her, screaming insults and beating her. Several strong women pinned her to the ground, tearing her clothes while shouting to the horrified audience that she was a homewrecker.
After that, wherever she went, Gemma's people would find and harass her. Over time, Quinlan's nerves frayed. The immense pressure left her caught between a desperate desire to prove she could succeed and a paralyzing fear of Gemma's next attack.
When she finally learned the whole truth, a devastating clarity washed over her. She knew she had to leave Seaside City.
In an era where a woman's reputation was everything, she had become exactly what Gemma had called her: a cheap woman who would do anything for money.
She went to Preston and laid out her terms. He would pay monthly child support and buy her a house in Silverpeak City. He insisted she stay in Seaside City, but her resolve was absolute.
On the day she left, she looked him in the eye, her voice calm and devoid of passion. "Preston, you don't love anyone in this world. The only person you truly love is yourself."
At first, Preston thought she was just throwing a tantrum. He visited them frequently in Silverpeak City, but Quinlan's temper grew shorter, her demeanor more volatile. She no longer bothered to save his pride. Deciding to teach her a lesson about her spoiled arrogance, he stopped visiting.
It had no effect. Quinlan thrived, starting her own jewelry business.
As Leopold grew older, his face became a startling echo of a young Preston. The more he resembled his father, the more Quinlan's resentment festered. All her pain, everything she had lost, was embodied in the man whose face her son now wore. She began to distance herself from Leopold, lashing out at him, ignoring him. From his earliest memories, Leopold knew one thing for certain: his parents did not love him.
Meanwhile, at the market, Caroline and Leopold were walking back, their bags full of fresh produce. "Did I say the wrong thing earlier?" Caroline asked, a worried line between her brows.
"No," Leopold said, shifting the grocery bags to his other hand so he could take her wrist. "Don't overthink it. My mom's just tired."
"Really?" Caroline sounded unconvinced.
"I bought all her favorite things. I'm going to show off my cooking skills for you two tonight," he said, giving her arm a gentle shake, his eyes crinkling with a smile.
"Your mom comes to visit and sees you doing all the cooking while I just stand around," Caroline fretted. "She's going to think I'm the laziest wife in the world."
Leopold chuckled. "She won't. My mom's picky. She only likes my cooking."
Before she could respond, he tilted his chin toward the convenience store at the entrance of their complex. "Go on. I'm thirsty. Buy me a popsicle."
Her attention instantly diverted. "The banana-flavored one?"
"You know it," he confirmed with a nod.
Caroline returned a moment later, tearing open the wrapper and holding the popsicle to his lips. "You first," Leopold said.
She took a small bite. Before she could even chew, he cupped her chin and, seeing no one around, leaned in and stole the piece of frozen treat from her mouth.
Caroline's face went supernova-red. She quickly glanced around. "What are you doing? What if someone saw us?"
Leopold wiped a stray smudge from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, his grin wild and unrestrained. "Your lips are so soft."
Her eyes widened. She raised her hand as if to strike him, but it landed softly on his arm. "We're outside. Can you please be serious for one second?"
He dodged her playful swat and took off running down the path.
The winding walkway was paved with smooth cobblestones, shaded by the lush, bowing branches of trees on either side. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling their skin as she chased after him, her laughter as bright and warm as the afternoon sun.
No one could predict the future, but she had someone to walk into it with.