Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson)

"Okay."I took a seat beside him, trying to meet his piercing, clear gaze, and found myself growing more and more uncomfortable.

In the vast study, it was just Timothy and me, and Gary, who was making coffee on the side.

Sure enough, Timothy started, "So, you're still going for the divorce?"

My heart sank. He had seen right through me; hiding it was futile.

"Yeah... How did you know?"

He sighed but wasn't angry about being deceived. "You, always so independent and stubborn, never showed much on your face, but those eyes of yours, when have they ever looked away from him? But today, you haven't given him a single glance."

There was a note of regret in his words.

Hearing that, I felt a lump in my throat and couldn't say a word.

Indeed, loving someone is something you can't hide, even if you cover your mouth, it will shine through your eyes.

Even Timothy could see it clear as day, yet Bryant thought I had feelings for someone else.

Was he just clueless, or never caring enough?

I bowed my head, hiding my bitter emotions, my throat tight with words that eventually all condensed into, "I'm sorry."

"It's me who should apologize," Timothy gestured for Gary to serve me coffee. "If I hadn't pushed you to marry that boy, you wouldn't have fallen into this mess."

I took a sip of the hot coffee and shook my head. "No, it's not your fault... You just made a dream come true for me. Without you, I might have spent my whole life reaching for the stars. But now, I can move forward without regrets."

What you can't have, you'll always yearn for.

I had it, and now I can let go, which is much better than never having it at all.

This way, I wouldn't be forever longing, right?

All Timothy could do was look helpless. "Originally, I wanted to persuade you not to go through with the divorce, but hearing you talk like this, to say more would just show I'm too biased towards Bryant. You should know, in my eyes, you're no different from my own granddaughter. Even without the Mrs. Ferguson title, no one will dare to mess with you!"

His last words were said with such conviction.

It was a promise, and it gave me peace.

My voice was choked with emotion, "Timothy..."

"Jane," he called my name, his expression inscrutable. "Do you know why I never wanted Margaret or her mom to marry into the Ferguson family?" "Why?"

"Gary." He signaled Gary with a glance.

Gary, understanding, walked over to the safe, pulled out a leather-bound folder, and handed it to me with Timothy's nod.

"Take a look," he said.

I felt an inexplicable nervousness, as if about to uncover some secret.

And indeed, inside the folder was a memory card and several photos printed from surveillance footage.

In the photos were two women, one visibly pregnant, the other fit and attractive.

The former was Bryant's biological mother.

I had seen her in the Ferguson family's portraits; a beautiful woman with an air of elegance.

The latter, Teresa, I had met when Bryant and I visited her in the hospital, his stepmother.

As I looked through the photos, my heart raced faster!

Finally, I looked up at Timothy in disbelief!

I wanted to say something, but my throat felt tight. Timothy, however, understood my question and gave me a precise answer.