Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Briony lowered her gaze, staring at her tightly clasped hands. "I heard it's still pretty backward over there."

"It is," Stewart replied. "Most young people leave the island to find work elsewhere. The people who stay are mostly older-middle-aged or elderly."

Briony took a deep breath, summoning her courage. "Do you know if my mother's all right?"

Stewart hesitated. "It's hard to say for now."

She turned sharply to look at him, every nerve in her body suddenly on edge. "What does that mean?"

Just then, a flight attendant appeared with a mug of warm milk.

Stewart took the mug and held it out to Briony. "Have some milk, try to get some sleep."

But the last thing Briony wanted right now was to drink milk and fall asleep.

"Stewart, you can be honest with me. I'm going to have to face the truth eventually," she insisted.

He sighed. "You'll find out soon enough. There's no point in rushing it."

He nudged the milk closer. "Just drink it and try to rest."

expression cool. “I'm not thirsty.

an eyebrow.

can't drink it." Realizing he

stared out the window, making it clear the conversation was

then handed the mug back to

blanket and a sleep

flight attendant offered the

accepted them with a polite, quiet

the seat into

to him, pulled the blanket over herself, and slipped on the mask, determined to

a few seconds, then finally closed his eyes

the night sky was calm. The flight

next morning, the private jet landed

slept well at all. Her night was a jumble of restless,

woke, a dull ache throbbed

of morning wind hit her, making the

brow furrowed, followed behind