The Night I Left, He Turned Grey

Sean Sinclair was about to say more, but Leila Jennings was anxious about the package. "We’ll talk later," she said. "I’ll ask Cecilia."

"Don’t worry. It must be somewhere you didn’t see. Cecilia wouldn’t mess with your things."

’But Cecilia is the *only* one who would mess with my things.’

Leila Jennings was tired of repeating herself all these years, and she was just as tired of hearing Sean Sinclair’s platitudes. So she hung up.

Sean Sinclair was stunned when she abruptly hung up. He frowned. ’Leila Jennings actually hung up on me?’

He got up, grabbed his jacket, and left the office. On his way out, he even remembered to text Leila Jennings the dishes he wanted for dinner tonight.

Lately, he’d been eating either out or at the office, and the food was bland. He would just have a few bites to get by each time.

’Tonight, I can finally have a proper meal.’

Leila Jennings ignored his message and called Cecilia Sinclair.

The first call, she hung up.

The second, she hung up again.

On the third, she finally answered slowly.

"Well, well, Leila Jennings. To think you’d actually call me yourself, huh?"

Her tone was pure provocation.

Leila was immediately certain. "You took my package."

"So what if I took it?" Cecilia Sinclair admitted without beating around the bush. "That orphanage sends you useless junk every year, and you turn around and give it to us. Who would dare eat stuff from those hicks? We don’t even know if it’s clean! Just don’t give it to us this year. We always have to sneak around to throw it out, and if my brother finds out, we get an earful."

Leila Jennings’s pupils shrank. "You threw them all away?" she asked, her voice cold.

"What do you think?"

"If you didn’t want them, you could have given them back to me." Leila Jennings clenched her jaw. She knew it was useless to say this now; years had passed. She took a deep breath. "Give my things back."

"Oh, you want them? Come get them yourself, then," Cecilia Sinclair giggled on the other end of the line. "But I’m not free today. As for when... you’ll just have to wait until I *am* free. And don’t even think about telling my brother, or I’ll tear up all the drawings and letters from those little runts."

Obviously, Cecilia had already opened it and looked inside.

Leila Jennings demanded, "What exactly do you want? If you want me to divorce your brother, you should go convince him, not threaten me."

"Tsk. If my brother wanted to divorce you, would he need us to say anything? It’s so frustrating! My brother obviously likes Sarah, so why won’t he just divorce you?"

"He’s sick in the head," Leila Jennings muttered.

"You’re cursing my brother behind his back? Believe it or not, I’m going to go tell him."

"You might as well tell him you took my package while you’re at it."

Cecilia backed down. "I’m not wasting my breath on you. If you want this stuff back, you’ll have to wait until I’m in a good mood. I’ll contact you then."

CLICK.

The line went dead.

Leila Jennings texted Cecilia: [Don’t touch my things. If anything is even slightly damaged, you can kiss your study abroad money goodbye.]

Cecilia: [Leila Jennings, why don’t you just go die!!!]

Cecilia: [I knew it! You’re the one holding onto my brother’s money! You just can’t stand to see me succeed!!!]

Leila could feel her rage, even through the screen.

Cecilia: [I wouldn’t touch that stuff anyway! Who knows what kind of germs and viruses are on it!]

Leila Jennings’s lips curled.

’I don’t care if she misunderstands me. All that matters is that I get the result I want.’

Only after confirming her things hadn’t been thrown away could she breathe a sigh of relief. Staring at the endless bags in front of her, she suddenly had no idea where to put them.

Leila Jennings called Professor Cheney and asked for the property’s address. She tried to transfer him the rent, but he refused to accept it. His only request was that she take good care of the place and clean it well, as it had been unoccupied for years and was covered in dust.

Leila Jennings didn’t stand on ceremony. She thanked him profusely and prepared to move all her things to the building entrance before calling a cab.

Just as she moved her things out of the elevator, Sean Sinclair came home.

They ran right into each other by the elevators.

At that moment, Leila Jennings was wearing a baseball cap, a mask, and a large black jacket. Sean Sinclair didn’t recognize her.

Leila paused for just a moment, but she didn’t call out to him.

In four years of marriage, Sean Sinclair had walked right past her without recognizing her on multiple occasions. Even Leila herself thought it was a joke.

’Just like their marriage—a joke from start to finish.’

Sean Sinclair stepped into the elevator. As he reached to press the ’close door’ button, he had a sudden feeling that the person who’d just brushed past him looked familiar.

’Like Leila.’

He wasn’t sure.

’Leila usually dressed simply, but not like this. That jacket obviously belonged to another man—a middle-aged one, by the looks of it.’

’But it really did look like her.’

Just as the elevator doors were sliding shut, Sean Sinclair jabbed the ’open’ button and strode back out.

"Leila Jennings?"

Leila Jennings froze. That momentary hesitation was all it took to deepen Sean Sinclair’s suspicion.

Sean Sinclair strode over, yanking off her hat and pulling down her mask.

"Why are you dressed like this?"

His eyes fixed on the baggy jacket. "Whose clothes are you wearing?" he demanded.

"An elder’s."

"Besides Professor Warren and Butler Duncan, what other elders do you even know?" Sean Sinclair challenged her. "Is it Butler Duncan’s? No, that can’t be right."

"A professor you’ve never met." Leila Jennings was still holding the bags, the plastic handles digging into her palms and turning them red.

Sean Sinclair stared into her eyes for a moment, but he couldn’t find any holes in her story. His gaze shifted to the bags in her hands, and his tone softened considerably.

"You were only gone a few days, and there’s already this much trash to take out?"

The items sent by the director of her orphanage had just been ridiculed by Cecilia, and now Sean Sinclair was calling them trash. Leila ignored him, tightening her grip on the bags as she tried to walk past him.

Sean Sinclair assumed she was angry that he wasn’t helping, so he reached for the bags.

"I’ll throw them out. Did you buy groceries?"

Leila Jennings dodged his hand, explaining deliberately, word by word, "This isn’t trash. They’re local delicacies sent by the director of my orphanage. I won’t be leaving them for you this year. It’ll save you the trouble of having to throw them out."

Sean Sinclair looked slightly stunned. "You knew? My parents didn’t mean to... they just aren’t used to that kind of food."

"Mhm." Leila had no desire to argue with him. "I have to go."

"I just got home, where are you going?" Sean Sinclair grabbed her arm. "I didn’t even finish my work. I heard you were back and made a special trip home to have a nice dinner with you, and now you’re planning to run off to The Thorne Residence?"

"Leila Jennings, do you even care about this family?"

Leila Jennings looked back at him. "I should be the one asking you that."

"If I didn’t care about this family, why would I have dropped everything at work to rush home?"

"Because you realized that restaurant food isn’t as good as a home-cooked meal," Leila Jennings replied instantly. "But one gets tired of home cooking eventually. Sometimes you want to eat out, try something different, something new. Then, after eating out for a while, you start craving a simple home-cooked meal again."

Sean Sinclair had never seen Leila speak with such harsh severity. He had a faint feeling there was a deeper meaning to her words.

He pressed his lips together, then explained, "You might not be a five-star chef, but my stomach is used to your cooking. Your food is what suits me."

Leila Jennings scoffed. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

’So this was why Sean Sinclair wouldn’t divorce me.’

’Suitable.’

’The food she made was what suited his stomach.’

’And she was what suited his idea of a hardworking, uncomplaining housewife.’

"Besides, it’s not that I haven’t been coming home for dinner. It’s you who hasn’t been here. Leila Jennings, do you even know how many days you’ve been gone?"

Leila Jennings shot back, "How many?"

Sean Sinclair opened his mouth, but no answer came out.

"I’ve been busy. I don’t have time to count the days." He grabbed Leila Jennings’s hand, forcibly pulling her back. "You’re not going anywhere tonight. Don’t you forget that you have a husband and a family."