Goodbye, Mr. Regret

After a while, Henry picked up the phone.

"Henry, have you had dinner yet?"

Sheila's voice was as gentle and caring as ever.

Maybe it was because Henry wasn't in a great mood-he didn't sound nearly as cheerful as he usually did when she called.

His aunt had told him he should really call Sheila "Great Aunt" according to the family tree.

His mother had been furious about his behavior and was now completely ignoring him.

He should probably do as his aunt suggested.

"Good evening, Great Aunt," he said.

Sheila almost dropped her phone.

"Henry, what did you just call me?"

"Great Aunt. You're Dad's aunt, after all. I should address you properly."

Sheila had so many things she wanted to say to Henry, but his sudden formality left her speechless.

Wasn't he always closest to her? What had changed?

"Henry, it's true I'm your dad's aunt, but we were born the exact same day, month, and year. Technically, yes, I am your great aunt, but you've always just called me Miss Sheila, haven't you?"

"That was my mistake. I should have used your proper title. Is there something you needed, Great Aunt?"

Sheila had heard the entire Zimmerman family was back in the country and had planned to get some information out of Henry. But with how things were right now, she figured it was best not to ask.

"No, nothing really. I just haven't seen you in a while. I missed you, so I wanted to check in and see how you've been."

He hadn't been well at all lately, actually. He'd cried more than a few times.

But he didn't want to tell Sheila any of that.

His mom seemed to dislike the closeness between him and Sheila, and if she found out, she probably still wouldn't speak to him.noveldrama

He'd only ever reached out to Sheila because he worried about his mother-since she couldn't speak, he struggled with the embarrassment if others found out.

It was never about needing Sheila specifically.

"I'm doing fine. If there's nothing else, I'll say goodbye. It's almost time for dinner."

"Alright. Take care."

Henry hung up.

Sheila felt like something was stuck in her chest.

This kid really couldn't be counted on.

It hadn't even been that long, and he'd already forgotten her-after all she'd done for him.

Annoyed, Sheila tossed her phone aside.

Not that she truly wanted Henry, anyway. What she really wanted was Timothy.

If Henry didn't want to be close to her, he was nothing more than a pawn.

Timothy arrived at the Zimmerman estate.

By then, night had completely fallen.

The lights were on inside Zimmerman Manor, and he rang the doorbell.

The swered, and upon butler

seeing who it was, said, "Mr.

Lawson, you really shouldn't come. This

puts us in a difficult position."

Timothy held up a portfolio. "I'm only here to drop something off. Could you please give this to Jessica for me?"

The butler remembering how

Timothy had arranged specialists for

Mr. Larkin's heart condition,

accepted the portfolio. "I can pass it

along, but I can't promise Miss

Jessica will take it."

Taking the illustrated book, the butler walked back into the mansion, while Timothy

stepped aside and lit a cigarette.

He wanted to wait.

Maybe, if his son truly apologized from the heart, she'd soften.

By now, the Zimmerman family had finished dinner.

Mrs. Zimmerman, knowing there were some of Jessica's paper-cut artworks in her husband's study, wanted to understand more about her daughter's past. She asked Jessica to join her in the study to look at them together.

The butler approached the study and knocked on the door.

"Ma'am, it's me."

"Come in."

The butler entered, holding out the portfolio. "Miss Jessica, Mr. Lawson just dropped this off for you."

Jessica recognized it immediately it was an illustration portfolio.

When she used to create paper-cut illustrations, she always prepared portfolios

with the same design, just in different colors.