Marcellus Spencer stared at Elaine Miller with a vacant, shattered expression. "I’m not dead?"

Elaine didn't blink. "If you’re that desperate to kick the bucket, I’d be more than happy to finish the job for you."

He snapped back to reality, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate intensity. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt anywhere?"

Elaine felt a complex knot of emotions tighten in her chest. She shook her head. "I'm fine... thank you."

She exhaled, the air feeling lighter than it had in years. "I looked into what happened all those years ago. The death of my parents wasn’t entirely on you. You just delivered the final push... Let’s call it a wash. From here on out, let’s never cross paths again."

Marcellus closed his eyes, his mouth twisting into a bitter, hollow smile.

He had known. He had known the moment Elaine faked her death to escape. He knew that the woman whose every thought and gaze had once belonged to him was gone, and that he had forfeited his chance at love forever.

"And... the children? Max feels terrible about what he did to you."

Elaine sighed, the weight of motherhood pulling at her. "He was just a pawn in someone else’s game."

"Max is seven. He’s grown accustomed to your side of the house; keep him with you. As for Maisie, we’ll see what she wants. And Zeke..." She paused. "That’s your call."

Marcellus spoke in a low, gravelly voice. "If the choice were mine, I’d keep them all under my roof. The Spencer legacy needs them." He looked at her, his eyes pleading. "At least this way... you’ll have a reason to stop by every now and then."

Elaine was taken aback by his uncharacteristic honesty. She considered it for a moment, then gave a sharp, clinical nod. "Fine."

"Then, goodbye."

She turned and walked away, a silhouette drifting off just as she had in his dreams.

Marcellus watched her retreating back, his heart aching with a desperate, lingering hunger. He made a silent wish to the empty air: *Elaine, may the rest of your life be peaceful and bright. May you never see another storm.*

***

Outside the hospital entrance.

Charleigh Flores was crouched on the pavement, rhythmically plucking petals off a stray flower. "He’ll be my uncle... he won't be my uncle... he’ll be my uncle..."

Arthur Bennett, usually the picture of stoic indifference, watched her with growing irritation. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he squatted down. "What exactly are you doing?"

"I’m asking the heavens whether Aunt Elaine is going to end up with you!" Charleigh snapped, not looking up. "If she says no, I’m going to be stuck eating your cooking forever, and the thought is absolutely soul-crushing!"

Arthur laughed, a sharp, genuine sound. "She’s back now. I wouldn’t cook for you even if you begged."

"Aunt Elaine's food is way better than yours anyway. I’m still hoping for a taste of her cooking..." Charleigh let out a dramatic, elderly-sounding sigh. She suddenly leaned in, her eyes glinting with gossip. "Uncle, when did you actually fall for her?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, a distant, nostalgic look clouding his gaze. "Years ago."

Charleigh stopped mid-pluck, stunned. "You guys have known each other that long?"

"Yeah."

Arthur’s gaze drifted to the horizon, the memory of a miserable, lonely childhood surfacing. He remembered Elaine always trailing behind Marcellus, while he had remained curled up in the dark, forgotten corners.

Occasionally, Elaine would notice his isolation and his ragged clothes, and she would march over to force a piece of candy into his palm.

*“Little brother, eat something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”*

Later, he moved abroad with his family, took over the business, and climbed his way up. But he could never shake the memory of that little girl. When he heard she was suffering, he pulled strings, buying the apartment building just to rent a unit to her.

At first, he just wanted to see her, to bridge the gap of his own childhood regrets. But once he was near her, the dormant, desperate feelings ignited into a wildfire. He had been ruthless. He had been greedy. He wanted everything.

After hearing the story, Charleigh stared at him, jaw hanging open. "You... you are absolute trouble. Does Aunt Elaine know what kind of man you are?"

"Of course not," Arthur said with a warm, predatory smile. "Which is why I suggest you keep your little mouth shut."

Charleigh immediately clamped both hands over her lips, shaking her head frantically to show she would never breathe a word of it.

"Mr. Bennett! Charleigh!"

Elaine’s voice drifted from behind them.

Arthur scooped Charleigh up and stood, brushing the dust from his trousers. "Coming!"

After the storm, there is always a rainbow. The road ahead was long, but he had all the patience in the world to walk it, step by step, into Elaine's life.

(The End)