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."

Henry calling you his mother in public-please correct him in the future. All this confusion about family roles has to stop.

Sheila as though everything had changed in

to keep

caught the edge 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 realized recently that she can't. I hope you

strained smile. "Timothy, it's nothing. Why

younger. I hope

froze, her

do you realize what

"I do."

expression turned steely. "I've found my biological father. If you refuse to accept me, then I'm your aunt—and as your elder, what right do you have to comment

he refused her now, she had every right, as his aunt,

the Howards. She was Sandra and Abell's daughter, Timothy's aunt in every legal and moral

gaze lingered on her,

ever used her status as his

she said quietly, "Sorry. We grew up together, almost as equals, so I shouldn't have said that. But I can't

do you really not remember why I gave up back then? For seven years, I kept my distance, never crossing the line, and you know exactly why. You must

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

voice broke

defied his family for her, determined

you. You promised me, even if we got married, we'd keep it secret-that

"That wasn't love."

Sheila felt herself unraveling.

clung to, all these years. 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