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."

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

an eyebrow. "Worried I poisoned

me sick. I can't drink it." Realizing he had no intention of telling her about her mother, Briony turned

making it clear the

moment, then handed the mug back to the flight

blanket

sir." The flight attendant offered the items to

a polite,

the seat into a

anger, Briony lay down with her back to him, pulled the blanket over herself, and slipped on the mask,

stared at the back of her head for a few seconds, then finally closed his

calm.

six-thirty the next morning, the private jet landed

Her night was a jumble of

dull ache

gust of morning wind hit

and, with her brow furrowed, followed behind Stewart