chapter 2

present day

I stood silently in front of the full-length mirror, my eyes fixed on the faint scar etched across my abdomen. The pale line, a constant reminder of the accident that forever altered my life, glinted softly in the morning light. My fingertips hovered over it, tracing its length as unbidden memories surged to the surface.

It’s been a year since that fateful day—since the screech of tires and the violent crash catapulted me into a nightmare I can’t escape. Waking up in the sterile whiteness of the hospital room, disoriented and in pain, was only the beginning. The doctors’ words had shattered my already fragile world.

“The injuries were severe,” one of them explained gently, though his voice echoed with finality. “I’m so sorry, but the damage to your womb was extensive. You won’t be able to have children.”

I barely registered the words at first, numb to their weight until later—when the sterile quiet of the hospital room was replaced by the suffocating silence of my thoughts. The dream I had held close for so long, of having a family of my own, had been mercilessly torn from my grasp.

My parents were my constant guardians, shielding me fiercely from unwanted encounters. They were determined to protect me from further pain—even when Eric, guilt written all over his face, came to the hospital seeking forgiveness. My mother’s stern voice stopped him in his tracks, a wall of defiance that left no room for negotiation.

“She needs time, Eric. Time and peace.”

But time has done little to mend the cracks in my heart. Alexander’s involvement complicated things even further. His name remained a ghostly whisper—never directly mentioned but impossible to ignore. He paid my hospital bills in full and ensured a lawyer handled compensation discussions with meticulous care.

“No disclosure,” the lawyer said firmly. “Mr. Alexander wishes to avoid any public attention.”

Avoid scandal. I understood the sentiment, even if it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Money was no salve for what I had lost. Still, a part of me wondered about the man who preferred to remain a faceless benefactor, his presence looming invisibly over my recovery.

Taking a steadying breath, I pulled my hand away from the scar and lifted my chin. There was no undoing the past—no erasing the pain or reclaiming the dreams that had been stolen. But there was a life still waiting to be lived, and I knew I couldn’t spend forever trapped in mourning for what could have been.

Evelyn! The food is ready!" my mother’s voice echoed from downstairs, snapping me out of my thoughts. With a sigh, I whispered a soft, "Coming," though my heart wasn't in it. My eyes lingered on the faint scar etched across my skin, a constant reminder of battles both visible and unseen. The weight of memories pressed down on me, but I knew breakfast was waiting, and so was she. With a heavy heart, I pulled my shirt back down, hiding the mark once again. I straightened my posture and made my way downstairs, hoping the warmth of a meal could chase away the chill in my thoughts.

Heading downstairs I am greeted by The smell of coffee and sizzling bacon, which put an instant smile on my face. The kitchen was filled with the familiar hum of morning sounds—the clatter of plates, the low murmur of the radio playing an old tune, and the occasional clink as Dad poured his coffee. Mum stood by the stove, flipping pancakes, while Dad sat at the table, reading the newspaper.

"Morning," I greeted, sliding into my usual chair.

"Morning, love," Mum smiled, setting a plate of pancakes in front of me. "Eat up. You need energy."

"Morning," Dad echoed, his eyes still on the paper. "Any plans today?"

"Not really," I mumbled through a mouthful of syrupy pancake. My heart thudded as I rehearsed the speech I’d been preparing for weeks. This was the moment I had to tell them—I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. I took a deep breath. "Actually, there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you both."

Dad folded the paper, giving me his full attention. Mum arched an eyebrow, curiosity replacing her usual morning calm.

"Go on," she urged.

"I’ve… joined a cooking contest," I said quickly, my words tumbling out faster than I intended. "I’ve been saving for six months and practicing for it."

Mum blinked, taken aback. "A cooking contest? What do you mean?"

"It's an annual event where people from all over come to showcase their culinary skills," I explained, steadying my voice. "I've worked so hard for this. Cooking is the one thing I've always known I'm truly good at, and this is my chance to prove it. The competition is being held in New York next month."

"New York?" Dad’s tone sharpened. "That's a long way from here, Evelyn."

"I know," I acknowledged, keeping my voice calm. "But this is important to me. It’s more than just a competition—it’s my chance to rebuild my life and find myself again."

Mum shook her head slightly, worry flickering in her eyes. "But you’ve never traveled that far alone. And a competition… it’s risky. What if it doesn’t go well?"

"What if it does?" I countered, meeting her gaze. "Mum, Dad… I need to do this for myself. I know it’s a big leap, but I’m ready. I've been preparing and saving because I believe in this dream."

They exchanged glances, a silent conversation I couldn’t hear but could feel the weight of. Dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully, while Mum pursed her lips, clearly torn.

"Evelyn," Dad finally spoke, "we just want what's best for you. But New York… that's a different world from our little town. Are you sure you’re ready for something like this?"

"I am," I insisted. "I know it’ll be challenging, but staying here and not trying feels even worse. Please, trust me."

The room fell into silence, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I held my breath, waiting for their decision.

Finally, Mum exhaled slowly, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "If you believe this is what’s best for you, we’ll support you. But please be careful."

"And call every day," Dad added gruffly. "We’ll miss you, kid."

Relief flooded through me, and I grinned. "Thank you… really. You have no idea what this means to me."

"We’ll always be here for you," Mum said softly.

I smiled, feeling grateful that despite everything life has thrown at me, I can always count on the unwavering support and trust of my parents.

and for the first time in weeks, I felt a spark of hope.”New York”  the city beckoned in the distance, its skyline promising anonymity and opportunity. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but I was ready to find out.

Alexander remained a mystery, his name a lingering question mark in the back of my mind. But for now, I pushed thoughts of him aside. This was my journey, my chance to reclaim my life. And I wasn’t going to waste it.