Chapter 34: Neither Love Nor Hate
“That man keeps staring at our car,” the driver muttered nervously, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
Evelyn Carter glanced indifferently out the window. “You must be mistaken.”
“No, no—he’s definitely watching us. I’ve driven for twenty years without a single accident. I couldn’t have scratched his car…”
“Sir, did you see him when you arrived at the hospital?”
“Exactly! He was standing in the rain earlier. Now that we’re turning around after picking you up, he’s still there getting soaked. What kind of fool does that?”
Evelyn took a deep breath and turned away. “Just focus on driving.”
“Oh no—he’s coming this way!”
Suddenly, Evelyn despised the perpetually gridlocked traffic outside the hospital.
What was he doing here?
Would he knock on the window and demand answers? Or yank the door open?
What could they possibly say to each other if they met?
They’d already settled everything. Why show up now?
“Can we take a detour?” Her voice tensed slightly.
“Look at this traffic—it’s a parking lot. Where would we go?”
The figure drew closer through the rain, heading straight for the taxi.
Evelyn braced herself for the impending awkward confrontation. But then—
Alexander Hamilton walked past their car and approached another taxi on the opposite side. He bent down, opened the door, and carefully shielded the roof with his hand as he helped Annabelle Taylor—her belly swollen with pregnancy—step out.
“Oh, he’s just picking up his wife. False alarm.”
Amid the chorus of car horns, Evelyn gave a faint, wry smile.
“Miss, what’s so funny?”
“Why were you so afraid of him approaching?”
“Didn’t you see the look in his eyes? Like he wanted to devour someone. Didn’t that unsettle you?”
Evelyn shook her head. “He’s not frightening.”
Truly, he wasn’t. In three years of marriage, she’d never seen Alexander lose his temper.
Except once.
A week ago at Cloud Terrace Resort, she’d stood on the balcony and heard the violent argument from the eighth floor. It was the first time she’d heard him speak with such sharpness—each word a blade, each sentence a strike to the heart.
So it wasn’t that he couldn’t get angry. It just depended on the person.
With Annabelle, the emotions he’d suppressed for twenty years had finally found release. He resented her—for offering twenty years of friendship only to turn back when he’d already let go.
And as for Evelyn… She’d merely been a placeholder. Without love, there could be no hate.
“Mind if I smoke?” The driver surrendered to the standstill.
Evelyn meant to refuse, but instead said, “Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
He lit a cigarette but considerately rolled the window halfway down. The post-rain air, laced with tobacco, drifted in—making the scene outside even clearer.
Alexander supported Annabelle as they walked slowly past. Just as they neared the window, Evelyn abruptly reclined her seat, vanishing into the shadows.