The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

It was rare for Chloe to see Leila Jennings show interest in anything outside of her research or her husband, so she immediately launched into a detailed breakdown of how luxury brands operated their bundling schemes.

Leila listened distractedly, her mind elsewhere. All she could think about was Sean’s absence the night before—and the silk scarf he’d pulled from his pocket that morning. It hadn’t come in any box or packaging.

Her gaze drifted toward the direction Sarah had left. "Ms. Lynch’s bag looks pretty new."

"It is. She got it last night," Chloe said without missing a beat.

Leila turned to face her directly. Even Professor Cheney looked up. "How do you know that?"

"I happened to see Mr. Jacobs talking to Ms. Lynch at lunch." Chloe sighed. "He noticed her bag and reminded her to be careful about what she wears. Ms. Lynch said a friend had given it to her last night as a gift, and she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. But that bag costs over $139,000... I wish I had friends like that."

Leila quietly repeated the word under her breath—"A friend." Sean had used that same word this morning. She asked again, "Did that bag come with a silk scarf as part of the set?"

Chloe nodded. "More than that. There are usually several pieces in the bundle. The scarf is just one of them, though people do buy it separately too."

Leila’s emotions swayed with every word. She turned to Professor Cheney. "I won’t be able to make the dinner tonight. Something came up at home."

Professor Cheney hesitated. "Is it... serious?"

"Very serious," Leila said, thinking that her entire world was falling apart.

Professor Cheney reassured her, "In that case, I’ll let Ms. Lynch know. You handle what you need to at home. The project is nearly wrapped up anyway, so things aren’t as hectic. You don’t need to come into the institute every day like before. We’ll reach out if anything important comes up."

"Okay." Leila put on her mask and left alone. But she didn’t go home. Instead, she took a cab to Stellaxis Technologies. And there, she unexpectedly came face-to-face with Sean Sinclair.

But Sean didn’t notice her. Maybe it was the mask. Or maybe it was because the after-work crowd was thick, and he was absorbed in a phone call. He walked right past her.

And they had been married for four years.

Leila hesitated for a moment, then turned and followed him. As she drew closer, she could hear his side of the conversation.

"So you have a dinner thing—I don’t need to pick you up from work?" Sean stopped walking.

Leila stopped too.

"Alright. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you." He hung up and walked past Leila again.

As he neared the elevator, Sean paused briefly. Something faint and elusive flickered at the edge of his mind. He turned and looked back.

"Are you looking for something, sir?" his assistant asked.

Sean shook his head. It must have been his imagination. Leila should be at home in the kitchen right now, not here at the office. But he wasn’t going home for dinner tonight—he should text her not to make too much food.

Leila’s phone buzzed with a message. It was a short line from Sean. She stared at it, unable to form a single word in response.

She decided not to go home. Instead, she waited until Sean came back downstairs and left the building. She hailed another cab and followed him.

Across the street, Leila watched as Sarah emerged through the revolving doors. She saw Sarah loop her arm through Sean’s, and together they walked to the car, chatting cheerfully. Sean opened the door for her himself, even shielding her head with his hand as she got in. He was careful, utterly gentle.

Sean had always been a mild-mannered gentleman. But she had never seen him show this kind of devotion to anyone. He was so absorbed in that woman—like he wanted to be glued to her side and never look away.

The car sped past Leila. Inside, Sean frowned and glanced out the window again.

"Sean, what are you looking at?" Sarah asked.

"Nothing," he replied, telling himself he must be tired—he’d even hallucinated seeing Leila a couple of times. He started to wonder if she was eating properly by herself.

But Leila stood frozen on the roadside. She pulled out that expensive silk scarf—worth $550—and looked at it. It was the most expensive gift Sean had ever given her after they got married. And it turned out to be nothing more than the freebie that came with the designer bag he’d bought for Sarah.

Leila’s fingers tightened around the fabric until her nails pressed deep into her palm through it. She told herself that maybe the physical pain would dull the ache in her heart.

But before she could sink further into her sorrow, her phone started ringing incessantly. It was her husband’s sister, Cecilia Sinclair.

A sobbing voice came through the moment she picked up. "Leila, please!"

The Sinclair family had never thought highly of Leila—they saw her as nothing more than an orphan who’d married up. Cecilia always called her by her last name and ordered her around. Only when she was in trouble and too afraid to tell her brother would she turn to Leila and actually use her first name.

"What is it now?" Leila asked flatly.

Cecilia had rear-ended someone. The victim needed compensation and surgery fees, and Cecilia herself was injured, lying in a hospital bed. She also repeatedly emphasized that Leila should not tell anyone in the family.

Leila nodded and hurried to the hospital.

The moment she arrived, Cecilia threw out a complaint. "What took you so long? I’m dying here, and you’re dragging your feet. Are you a damn snail?"

Leila, who had rushed over out of concern, was met with nothing but rudeness. Her face hardened, and she gave Cecilia a cold, sharp look.

Cecilia was stunned. Leila had always been the obedient one in the family. How dare she look at her like that now?

"What are you staring at me for? I’ll tell my brother about this!" Whenever Cecilia thought of her brother backing her up, her arrogance flared. Everyone around them knew that Leila loved Sean more than anything in the world—and that she would do and endure anything for his sake.

Cecilia’s expression shifted into a sweet, fake smile. "If you want me to keep my mouth shut... then I’m starving, Leila. Go buy me my favorite steak!" That particular steak cost $280 a serving and required a reservation.

Leila had always been the one to cover Cecilia’s bills. But now, she had absolutely no desire to do so. After all, the money she’d saved over the years for Sean had all gone into Sarah’s pocket instead. That thought broke her heart all over again.

"Go ahead and tell your brother then." Leila shrugged and walked out. Then she asked a nurse to call Sean instead.

The victim’s family was making a huge scene outside. Normally, Leila would have stepped in to handle it. But now, she just stood there as a spectator, watching with cold, distant eyes until her in-laws arrived in a panic.

When the victim’s family realized these were the driver’s parents, they swarmed them, demanding both an explanation and compensation.

Leila’s in-laws were well-dressed and clearly annoyed by the commotion. They craned their necks, searching for Leila, and when they spotted her, they shot her a glare—clearly intending to dump the victim’s family on her.

But Leila instantly caught on. She pushed her way through the crowd and said, "Hey, let me take you to Cecilia." Then she turned to the victim’s family and said, "Please don’t worry. Cecilia’s brother is President Sinclair of Stellaxis Technologies. He has an excellent reputation and won’t shy away from responsibility. We’ll take care of what’s ours."

Her sincere tone calmed the family somewhat. But the victim’s brother cut straight to the point. "Stellaxis Technologies, huh? If you try to dodge responsibility, we’ll camp out on your doorstep until the media shows up."

Henry Sinclair and Loretta White were not pleased that Leila had revealed their son’s company and title. They had tried to stop her from doing that—they didn’t want those "lowlifes" harassing their son. They shot her a furious glare.

After the victim’s family left, Mr. Sinclair sneered coldly, "You sure know how to give a speech, don’t you?"

Loretta adjusted her shawl and snapped, "Leila, you really are something else. You can’t make money. You can’t give us a grandchild. And now look what you’ve done to Cecilia! If her face or body is permanently damaged, she’ll be ruined! She won’t even find a husband! And dragging your husband into this mess—what kind of wife are you? You’re stupid and heartless!"

"Heartless?"

Ever since Leila married Sean, she had somehow become responsible for Cecilia. Whenever Cecilia so much as scratched herself, her in-laws would tear into her.

For four years, she had devoted herself and endured every unkindness—and all she got in return was being called "heartless."

Leila clenched her fists and fired back with a cold laugh. "Cecilia is your and Sean’s responsibility—not mine."

Henry and Loretta froze, hearing Leila talk back. She had always stayed silent when they scolded her. But now, the couple felt their anger spike—she was disrespecting them.

Henry roared, "As long as you’re with my son, everything in this family is your responsibility! What are you standing around for? Hurry up and get the money to pay them off! If this gets out, Sean’s future will be ruined!"

"I don’t have any money," Leila said, standing her ground.

"No?" Loretta’s fury flared at the mention of money. "My son’s money is in your pocket, and you claim you don’t have any?"

After Sean’s career took off, he bought his parents a house and hired a nanny. But the couple had been dying to take a world tour. Yet whenever they asked Sean for the money, he’d tell them to wait—he didn’t have it at the moment.

Sean never told them where the money went.

So his parents assumed Leila must be in charge of it. They were even more convinced when they saw Sean living frugally, barely buying any new clothes.

It broke their hearts to see their son living like that.

"Did he tell you I keep his money?" Leila’s heart sank even deeper. "He only gives me $417 a month. Want me to show you the bank statements?"

"Save your act. You probably photoshopped them!" Loretta snapped in disbelief.

Henry frowned. "Did you use Sean’s money to invest in stocks and lose it all?"

Leila was furious at the accusation. "Believe whatever you want. But I don’t have any money, and I’m not holding onto Sean’s either."

With that, she turned and walked away. But at that moment, Sean showed up. And he wasn’t alone—Sarah was with him.

Leila froze as their eyes met. Sean’s expression tensed too, and he walked toward them. His voice was cold as he asked what they were all doing here.

Loretta recognized Sarah instantly. Her face lit up with a warm, delighted smile, and she took Sarah’s hands, fussing over her. "Sarah, darling! It’s been so many years! How have you been overseas? Do you like the food here? Look at you—so skinny, but still as beautiful as ever."

"Mrs. Sinclair, you still look so lively and young. Your skin is just radiant." Sarah returned the compliments, then put on an apologetic look. "I heard Cecilia was in a car accident, so I rushed right over. I’m so sorry I didn’t bring you a gift—I’ll make sure to bring one next time I visit, okay?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Loretta couldn’t hide her joy.

Sarah smiled and turned to Sean. "Sean, aren’t you going to introduce me?"

Sean’s gaze softened. "Sarah, this is my... wife, Leila Jennings."

Then to Leila, he said, "This is my college friend, Sarah Lynch. Sarah is a woman with exceptional accomplishments."

"Your name is Leila Jennings too?" Sarah’s red lips curled into a smirk as she sized up the woman in front of her, making no effort to hide her disdain. "There’s someone named Leila Jennings on the project I’m leading. What a coincidence."