I glanced at the screen… Magnus. I declined the call, but it started ringing again almost Immediately. Over and over. It was getting on my
nerves.
When I finally picked up, my voice came out sharp.
“Magnus, can you just stop?”
His voice on the other end was cold, cutting.
“Evelyn, come home. Now.”
He still thought I was the same as before.
“Not coming back,” I said quietly.
I was never someone who craved a quiet life. But for him, I gave up a lot. My career. My identity. Even my temper.
Magnus wanted his Mrs. Finck to be gentle, gracious, agreeable–the perfect woman. So I tried to become that, molding myself into what he wanted.
But honestly, living against your my nature… it’s exhausting. I was done with play–pretend. There was a pause on the other end, then he said, “Eve, don’t be childish. Come home.”
It was the first time in years he’d called me that–Eve. So casually, like we hadn’t become
strangers.
It pulled a memory to the surface–our very first meeting. He’d been kind then, warm. I remember the way he patted my head and said, “Eve,” so gently.
I was ten when my parents died in an accident.
Before that, my father and Magnus had been close–friends, despite the age gap. My dad had entrusted me to him with his final breath. After that, I moved into the Finck household. In the beginning, Magnus treated me like I was made of glass. Whatever I wanted, he found a way to make it happen.
Once, I asked for a rare comic book that was only available in limited release. He spent the entire day combing through bookstores across the city, only showing up at my door late that night–book in hand, exhausted but smiling.
Whenever thunderstorms rolled in at night and I curled up under the covers, too scared to sleep, Magnus would always appear–like clockwork.
