The Day Our Promise Breaks

Time ticked by, second by second, and soon the hour they'd agreed upon had arrived yet there was still no sign of Evelyn.

Charles picked up his phone from the side table, wanting to call Evelyn and ask where she was. But he hesitated, worried she'd think he was being impatient, that he was rushing her, and that it would only upset her.

He set the phone back down.

Charles continued to wait, patiently.

His patience was a rare thing-he'd only ever given it, long ago, to Debbie, when she was five and he was ten.

After that, not once.

Now, twenty-two years later, he found himself offering it again-for her.

Cup after cup of coffee grew cold on the table. Aiden, ever attentive, replaced each one, but Evelyn never appeared.

"Mr. Jenkins, it's already eleven," Aiden finally reminded him gently.

He'd wanted to say something an hour ago, when Charles had already been left waiting.

It was clear-Ms. Evelyn wasn't coming.

If Ms. Evelyn truly intended to show up, with her sense of punctuality, she would have arrived on time. Even if something had come up, she would have called or at least sent a message to let Mr. Jenkins know.

But hours had passed since the agreed time-no word, no sign.

The message couldn't be more obvious.

Evelyn was standing Mr. Jenkins up-on purpose.

Charles said nothing, his gaze fixed on the phone lying on the table.

The screen was still open to his conversation with Evelyn. The last message was his: *Alright, 7 p.m. tonight, I'll be waiting for you at the restaurant. I won't leave until you come-promise!*noveldrama

His eyes lingered on those last four words: *I won't leave until you come.*

For years, it had always been Evelyn waiting for him.

Waiting for him to love her, to love Charlie.

Waiting for him to trust her, to trust Charlie.

Waiting for him to come home, even just to spend a little time with her, with Charlie.

Five years together-over eighteen hundred days and nights.

He'd disappointed Evelyn so many times, yet she'd always waited, always given him another chance.

But he had only ever left Evelyn and Charlie waiting.

The rare times he'd actually shown up were only because Evelyn had given everything to please him, bargaining for a promise that he'd come home to them.

And in the end, there was always an excuse-another business dinner, or because of Dahlia and her daughter-that kept him away.

He hadn't cared, back then.

Now, every memory came back to strike him, sharp as a boomerang, digging deep into his chest.

Drawing blood.

So, even though he'd known all along that this so-called "promise" to wait was only ever one-sided, he still stayed.

Evelyn wasn't coming.

She was making him wait, on purpose.

But Charles had no intention of leaving early.

He waited until midnight.

Only then did Charles quietly get up and leave the carefully decorated restaurant.

Aiden drove.

Charles sat in the back seat

His phone screen was still open to the chat with Evelyn.

Charles's long fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing a message, deleting, typing again.

There was so much he wanted to say. But there was too much-he didn't even know where to begin.

In the end Charles typed out just one solemn promise: *Eve, I'm willing to wait for you. I'll keep

waiting, until you turn back to look at me and give me the chance to make it up to you.*

He hit send.

And saw, immediately, that he'd been blocked again.

A red exclamation point appeared in the chat window. The hand holding his phone

went white at the knuckles.

It was a long time before he finally closed the app.

Accidentally, he tapped into his social media feed.

Charles almost never checked his feed,

then that when he saw Evelyn's

profile picture, his thumb

then quickly tapped into here

paused, page.

The screen refreshed, and Brooks' latest post appeared at the top.

Caption: *My whole world.*

Attached was a photograph of a restaurant.

It was another famous place in the heart of the city, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering

a popular spot for couples

on a date.

Charles opened the photo.

At first glance, he immediately noticed the detail others might miss.

Reflected in the glass were two figures.

One was Brooks.

The person sitting across from him was Evelyn.

It was a candid shot-Evelyn was looking down, eating, while Brooks gazed at

her with gentle affection.

A lock of her hair had fallen forward, and Brooks reached out, tenderly tucking it behind her ear.

Evelyn looked up.