Chapter 52
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MRS. Harlow had just stepped out of her bathroom, beads of water glistening on her skin, her body wrapped neatly in a white towel. She reached for the smaller towel by the mirror and began to dry her hair. Just then, her phone buzzed loudly on the dresser.
She glanced at it. ‘Adrian p>
Her brows furrowed. A cold scoff slipped from her lips before she answered.
“Hello?” she said, her tone stiff, clipped.
“Mom… good evening,” Adrian’s voice came, soft but tense.
“Evening,” she replied flatly. Gone were the days when she would brighten at the sound of his voice, treating him like the son she never had. Now her tone was layered with ice, as though every word was dragged out of her.
There was an awkward pause before Adrian spoke again.
“Mom, Amelia has left the house. She took Hazel with her p>
For a moment, Mrs. Harlow froze. She pressed her lips together, then sat down at the edge of the bed.
“So now you remember I exist?” she said bitterly. “Now you call me? Not once since this whole issue started did you think to check on me, to talk to me, to even ask how I was coping with everything. You shut me out, Adrian. And now, suddenly, you find my number when your wife leaves p>
“Mom, please,” Adrian’s voice cracked, tired. “This isn’t about you and me right now. This is about my daughter. I’m asking you, where has Amelia taken Hazel?” 1
Mrs. Harlow chuckled dryly.
“You men. Always quick to run when the fire you lit begins to burn your feet. You know what hurts me most, Adrian? I thought you were different. I thought you were not like the rest of them. I held you in high regard. Defended you. Told Amelia over and over that you were a man who valued peace, who valued his home p>
Adrian sighed, dragging a hand over his face.
“Mom, I am still that man. Don’t judge me by a mistake p>
“Mistake?” she cut in sharply. “You call it a mistake? Having another woman wrapped around you while your wife slowly withers away in silence? Do you know what that did to her? To us? To Hazel? And yet… you dare to call it a mistake p>
Adrian’s voice grew firmer now.
“Mom, this isn’t the time. I will take responsibility for everything I have done wrong, but right now, I need to know where my daughter is. Where has Amelia taken her? Do you know p>
There was silence on the other end. Mrs. Harlow tapped her nails against the dresser. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. And even if I did, maybe I wouldn’t tell you. Because, Adrian, sometimes space is the only oxygen left in a suffocating room. Maybe that is what Amelia needs right now, to breathe p>
“Mom-” Adrian tried again, his voice desperate.
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But she cut him short.
“Get off my phone, Adrian. Don’t drag me into this mess. I am disappointed in you p>
The line went dead.
Mrs. Harlow dropped the phone onto the bed, her chest heaving as though the conversation had drained her completely.
Just then, the door creaked open. Claire slipped in quietly, already dressed in her silk robe, her hair loosely falling around her shoulders.
She leaned against the doorframe, her eyes watching her mother intently.
“You see, Mommy,” she said softly, “people aren’t as perfect as we think. Everyone carries their own storms p>
Mrs. Harlow looked up at her daughter. Her lips trembled slightly, but she said nothing.
Claire walked further in, her steps slow and deliberate.
“Amelia used to look like she had the perfect life. The loving husband, the adorable daughter, the home anyone would envy. But now, look, she is gone. Packed her bags and left. Marriage broken. And Adrian, the same Adrian you adored so much is planning to marry another woman. His mistress p>
Mrs. Harlow shut her eyes, as though the truth in Claire’s words was too much to bear.
Claire sat on the arm of the chair nearby.
“It is life, Mom. People break. They stumble. Sometimes they rebuild, and sometimes they don’t. But one thing is clear, everyone is fighting battles deeper than we can see. Amelia’s smiles were covering wounds. Adrian’s composure was hiding chaos. And us? We were busy believing in pictures, not reality p>
Her mother opened her mouth to speak but found no words. Instead, her eyes softened, glistening faintly with unshed tears.
Claire reached over and took her mother’s hand gently.
“Don’t be too hard on him. Don’t be too hard on Amelia either. Don’t be too hard on me as well. Life is never as straight as we want it to be. Everyone is just… surviving. That is all p>
Mrs. Harlow looked at her daughter, her throat tightening. For once, she didn’t argue. She didn’t scold. She just nodded faintly, her eyes heavy with thought.
Claire gave a faint, almost sad smile. Then she stood, straightened her robe, and walked toward the door.
At the doorway, she paused, her back turned.
“Rest, Mom. Tomorrow will come with its own weight. Tonight, just… rest p>
And with that, Claire walked out of the room, leaving her mother alone in the silence, staring at her reflection in the mirror, wondering when everything had gone so wrong.
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Cedella
Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella’s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.