Chapter 102: Destroying the Past
Dozens of scanned pages of yellowed paper filled the screen, bearing Damian’s earnest, youthful handwriting.
[Evelyn, I saw those idiots bullying you again today. Next time that happens, you have to tell me. I’ll break their bones. I promise to protect you forever. No one will ever hurt you.]
[I was staring at you again during class today. The sun on your hair is brighter than any jewel I’ve ever seen. I swear, I will only ever love you.]
[I was truly scared during the earthquake. Not scared of dying, but scared of never seeing you again. As long as you’re alive, I’m not afraid of anything. Damian Green’s heart will always beat only for you.]
Every single line was a vow Evelyn had once believed without question. She gripped the phone, her knuckles white. The screen was cold, but it burned her fingers. A tear splattered onto the screen, blurring the word “forever” written by Damian.
More tears followed, blurring her vision. Two scenes flashed violently in her mind. One was the earthquake six years ago. The classroom shook violently, dust fell from the ceiling, and classmates screamed. Just as a slab of concrete was about to fall, teenage Damian threw himself over her, shielding her with his body. The stone slammed into his back with a sickening thud, but he gritted his teeth, whispering, “Don’t be afraid, Evelyn, I’m here.”
The other was the St. George High field today. The adult Damian, in a ridiculous uniform, passionately kissing another woman while murmuring his wife’s name.
Evelyn clutched her chest. It was hollow, the pain making it impossible to breathe. She hadn't fully let go because she remembered the young man who was willing to die for her. But now she knew that young man was long gone. He had died over the last eight years of marriage, drowned by power and lust. The last ember of sentiment in her heart was extinguished, crushed by the collision of memory and reality, turning into cold ash.
She scrolled to the end of the email. The teacher had written a heartfelt closing line: [I sincerely wish you both a love that endures, staying as true as the day it began.]
Staying true as the day it began? Evelyn looked at the line and suddenly laughed. It was a soft sound, yet filled with infinite sorrow and absurdity, echoing in the empty hospital room.
The nurse came in, removed her IV, and advised her to rest. Evelyn closed the email, leaving it unread and undeleted. She threw off the covers and left the room. Her movements were calm, her eyes now devoid of pain or struggle, only cold resolve.
She had one thought: get back to the mansion and destroy all traces of Damian.
Evelyn returned to the mansion after dark. The house was empty; Damian wasn’t home yet. Good. She walked straight to the storage room, a place she usually avoided because it was filled with “junk” Damian had ordered her to put away—her cherished design drafts and trophies.
She found several dusty boxes in the corner. Opening the first, she found a high school couple’s photo album. Each photo had a date and a mood written on the back: selfies of them secretly eating snacks in the library, their backs running on the beach, his silly grin the first time he used his scholarship money to treat her to dinner… Evelyn looked at her own radiantly happy face in the photos, feeling a terrible sense of alienation. She tossed the album aside.
The second box contained various small gifts: a crudely woven bracelet, his first handmade gift; a silver ring engraved with their initials, now oxidized black; a broken music box, his first birthday present. There was even their wedding vow card, which read: [For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I will never leave you.]
Evelyn picked up the card, tracing the gold lettering with a cold smirk. “Liar.” She whispered the insult, then fiercely tore the card in half, tossing it onto the pile of junk. She carried everything to the center of the living room, piling it into a small mountain. It was all her youth, all her love, and all her foolishness from the last eight years.
Evelyn pulled a lighter from her pocket. Click. A pale blue flame flickered in the darkness. Without hesitation, she touched the flame to the corner of the photo album. The fire quickly licked the paper, curling the edges before leaping higher. Their happy faces on the photos twisted, blackened, and turned to ash.
The fire grew, consuming the bracelet, the vow card, the music box… Thick smoke filled the living room, the acrid smell making Evelyn’s eyes water, but she didn’t blink. She watched silently. The flames cast an orange glow on her pale face, burning in her pupils as if to incinerate all her past.
That’s right. Garbage belonged in the trash, or burned to ash.
“What are you doing?!”
The front door was flung open, followed by a roar of alarm. Damian stood there, still holding his suit jacket, staring in shock at the blazing pile and the expressionless Evelyn. He was clearly startled by the smoke and fire, thinking the house was burning. But when he recognized the burning objects—the music box, the photo album—his expression changed.
“Evelyn! Are you crazy!” Damian rushed forward, tearing off his jacket to beat at the flames. “Stop it! Those are our memories! What the hell are you doing!” He swatted at the fire, glaring at Evelyn, his voice a mix of habitual accusation and patronizing softness.
“Alright, stop this nonsense! I know I’ve been neglecting you and you’re upset. I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay? Stop burning things!” He assumed this was just another one of her “tantrums” to get attention. Just like before, a little coddling and a sweet promise would make her compliant.
But this time, Evelyn didn’t move. She stepped aside, avoiding Damian’s hand as he reached for her, her movement cold, as if avoiding something filthy.
“Don’t touch me.” Evelyn’s voice was dangerously calm.
Damian’s hand froze midair. He stared at her. The firelight danced between them, casting long, twisted shadows. Evelyn stood in the shadow, her eyes calm as still water, showing no anger, no sorrow, no hatred. Only a profound, chilling indifference.