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."

the milk, her expression cool. “I'm not thirsty. Take it

arched an eyebrow.

shook her head. "No, but the thought makes me sick. I can't drink it." Realizing he had no intention of telling her about her mother,

window, making it clear the conversation

then handed the mug back

a blanket and

sir." The flight attendant offered the

accepted them with a polite,

her recline the seat into a flat

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

a few seconds, then finally

was calm. The

morning, the private jet landed

all. Her night was a jumble of

a dull

gust of morning wind

teeth, and, with her brow furrowed, followed behind Stewart