Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Sheila opened the door, surprised to find Timothy standing there.

"Timothy, come in. Have a seat."

She reached out, ready to steady him, but Timothy sidestepped her hand. "I can walk on my own."

His sudden coldness stung in a way Sheila couldn't quite put into words. Still, she swallowed her discomfort.

"I'll make you some coffee."

"No need. I won't be staying long."

Sheila felt even more at a loss. What was he here for, then?

Timothy settled into the living room armchair. "Sit down."

Uneasy, Sheila perched on the edge of the couch.

Looking directly at her, Timothy got right to the point. "I just stopped by Ines's studio. From her, I learned that the reason she gave that painting, The Grand Canal, Venice, to Henry, was because she saw Jessy's style in one of Henry's papercut illustrations. So, that painting can't stay with you. I'm here to take it back."

Sheila stared at him, stunned.

This was the first time he'd ever asked to take back something he'd given her.

He really was starting to care more about Jessica.

But she didn't argue. "I see. Since it's hard for you to get around, I'll have someone bring it to you later."

correct him

it felt to Sheila as though everything had changed

forced herself to keep her composure.

in his own words and tried to explain. "I don't want our family to fall apart. I used to think she could understand our relationship, but I've

a small, strained smile. "Timothy, it's nothing.

you're not getting any younger. I hope you'll

froze, her smile

do you realize what

"I do."

found my biological father. If you refuse to accept me, then I'm your aunt—and as your elder, what right do you

were equals. But if he refused

Howards. She was Sandra and Abell's daughter,

lingered on her,

was the first time Sheila had ever used

said quietly, "Sorry. We grew up together, almost as equals, so I

back then? For seven years, I kept my distance, never crossing the

fighting tears. "All these years, I've racked my brain looking for ways to solve our problem, to bridge what separated

broke at

one who'd defied his family for her, determined

You promised me, even if we got married, we'd keep it secret-that was your promise, proof of

"That wasn't love."

Sheila felt herself unraveling.

She'd waited for him-waited until she was thirty, still a virgin, never even dated, never experienced the warmth of a lover's embrace. Night after night, she endured the loneliness and longing, all