Chapter 32 — Corners Of Nowhere

The Cloak And The Truth
He entered the tv lounge, and his gaze swept the room out of instinct rather than habit. 

She was not there. A faint crease formed between his brows because she was usually waiting for him when he returned from the office. 

He slipped both hands into his pockets and stood still for a moment before calling her name, his voice calm but carrying an edge of expectation.

“Jenna.”
There was no reply.

He looked around once more and then turned toward the staircase, climbing it with unspoken tension following every step. 

He half expected her to appear suddenly, just as she always did, but the hallway remained quiet. When he reached the bedroom, he opened the door slowly.

A soft breath left him when he saw her standing near the bed. She was carefully laying out his clothes and smoothing the fabric with practiced hands. 

She looked up the moment she sensed him, straightened, and offered him that familiar smile before hurrying toward him. She greeted him softly, poured a glass of water, and handed it to him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Her brows drew together when she noticed the strain in his expression, but before she could ask what troubled him, he spoke.

“What did you cook today?” he asked after a brief pause, his voice controlled but tense as he took the glass from her hands.

“Chicken biryani and grilled spiced chicken,” she replied gently. “Your favorites.”

“Then serve it,” he said shortly, returning the glass to her.

She nodded and turned to leave. Before stepping out, she handed him the neatly folded clothes she had prepared for him.

“Here,” she said softly, her fingers lingering on the fabric for a moment before letting go.

He accepted them with a slight nod and did not speak. She hesitated for a heartbeat and then left the room.

Later, he came downstairs to find the dining table set and the aroma of spices filling the air. 

She stood slightly to the side after placing his plate in front of him, her hands resting at her sides. Her eyes followed his movements closely, noting the tension in his shoulders and the careful way he inspected the food before eating.

He looked up at her sharply. “Why are you standing there?” he asked in a low voice edged with authority. “Come and sit. Have dinner.”

She took a step forward and then paused. “Ah, finally remembered. I forgot to bring the salad,” she said, and turned to retrieve it. At that moment, the maid appeared and placed the tray on the table before quietly leaving.

Jenna stepped closer, a small smile forming on her lips, and remained at his side as he picked up his fork and took a deliberate bite. His expression remained unreadable.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly.
He chewed slowly before meeting her gaze.

“I made it exactly the way you like it,” she continued, leaning forward slightly. “You did not eat at the office today, and I felt bad about it. That is why I made your favorites.”

He paused, allowing her words to settle, and then a faint smirk touched his lips.

“The food is better than before,” he said calmly. “And if you made it because you felt sorry for me, then it is exceptional.”

She released a quiet, relieved laugh, and warmth filled her eyes as she stepped back. The tension between them eased slightly, though it did not disappear entirely.

The silence lingered while he finished his meal. Suddenly, his phone vibrated on the table. He picked it up immediately and glanced at the screen.

“Alright,” he said into the phone. “I will be there in twenty minutes.”

Jenna’s expression fell, because she already knew what that meant. He wiped his mouth with the napkin, pushed his chair back, and went upstairs without another word.

Inside the wardrobe, he opened the cabin and scanned the neatly arranged shelves. He then reached past the obvious compartments until his fingers found the hidden lock embedded into the inner panel. 

From his pocket, he retrieved a small ring of keys and selected one with ease. A soft click followed, and the narrow cabin slid open.

The weapon case lay inside, cold and familiar. He removed the gun first and checked the chamber out of habit before reaching for the ammunition. 

His jaw tightened as he loaded the magazine carefully, one round at a time. When he was finished, he reached for the black cloak hanging quietly among his darker clothes. 

Its fabric was dense and heavy, swallowing the light as he pulled it free and put it on.

Moments later, she entered the room carrying a cup of tea in both hands. Steam rose gently from it, carrying warmth into the tense space. 

She stopped just inside the doorway and watched him for a moment, her eyes fixed on his back and the controlled precision of his movements. Her memory sharpened suddenly, and recognition struck her.

She had seen that cloak countless times before. She had folded it, touched it, and passed it many times, always sensing its familiarity but never understanding why. Now the memory clicked into place.

The cup slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.

Evan turned instantly, and the open cabinet behind him was fully visible. The gun remained in his hand.

She stood frozen, one hand pressed tightly over her mouth, her eyes wide, and her breath caught painfully in her chest.

Her gaze moved from the cloak to the weapon and then to his face. The room felt impossibly small, every corner suddenly exposed.

“What are you doing here, Jenna?” he asked sharply as he slid the gun into its holster, instinctively concealing it from her view.

She could not answer. Her eyes continued to study him as if seeing him for the first time.

The memory returned with brutal clarity. She saw the dark road, the sudden figure cloaked in black, the car she had seen earlier—the same one Evan emerged from later at the hotel—and the sound of the gunshot.

She remembered the cab driver collapsing forward and the voice she had heard. When she heard it again at the hotel, she guessed it was the same, but she wasn’t certain.

“Were you that man?” she asked, her voice trembling. “That night on the road?”

His gaze shifted away for the briefest moment.
“Jenna, step back,” he said firmly as he reached for his watch. “I do not have time for this. I need to leave.”

She did not move.

“Why did you kill the driver?” she asked, panic rising in her voice. “Why did you never tell me it was you?”

Silence settled heavily between them. He fastened his watch around his wrist and took a final look at his reflection before turning back to her. 

He stepped closer, not threatening her, but commanding enough to make her breath hitch.
“Just get back, Jenna. He is dead, and you do not need to know the reason after all this time. It has nothing to do with you,” he said quietly.

The words struck her harder than any raised voice could have.

“No, Evan. Tell me at least why you killed an innocent man for no reason.”

He raised one brow at her words. “Innocent? Damn!”

She did not let her gaze waver when he came closer, stopping two steps before her.

“He was paid to take you to one of my enemies,” Evan continued steadily. “If he had succeeded, you would not be standing here.”

Her knees weakened, and she had to steady herself.

“I was in that cab,” she whispered. “You knew that.”

“Yes,” he replied, his jaw tightening. “That is why he died.”

The truth landed with brutal force.
“My network is not small, Jenna. I receive information before threats are allowed to move.”

“You let me believe he was just a stranger,” she said, her voice shaking. “You let me doubt my own memory.”

“I let you survive,” he corrected calmly. “And I eliminated the threat.”

Her eyes filled with tears as fear blended with understanding.

“So every time you said you were protecting me,” she said, her voice breaking, “this is what you meant.”

Evan exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand over his face.

“There are things in my world that can never be allowed to touch you,” he said. “That night was one of them.”

Her gaze drifted back to the black cloak.
His eyes followed hers, and his expression hardened.

“That was not a coincidence,” he admitted. “And you were never meant to connect it.”

The truth settled between them, sharp and irreversible, and the room no longer felt familiar in any way.