Chapter 4 The Dreams She Buried
1730 Words
The blue folder sat exactly where the notebook said it would be.
Top shelf.
Back corner.
Hidden beneath a thin layer of dust.
Damien stood on the small wooden stool Evelyn used to keep beside the bookcase. For a moment, he only looked at the folder without touching it.
The label was written in Evelyn’s neat handwriting.
Paris.
He frowned.
Paris?
She had never mentioned Paris to him.
Not once.
Slowly, he took the folder down and carried it to the drafting table.
Inside was the first shock.
A boarding pass.
Then a hotel reservation.
Then a competition schedule.
Then a printed map of Paris, marked carefully in blue ink.
Every detail had been planned.
The flight.
The hotel.
The studio tour.
The museum visit.
The final presentation.
It wasn’t a dream she had vaguely imagined.
It was a future she had already packed and paid for.
Damien turned the next page.
Across the airline ticket, one red word cut through everything.
CANCELLED.
Below it lay another document.
Withdrawal Confirmation
International Jewelry Design Competition
Reason: Participant Request
At the bottom was Evelyn’s signature.
Quiet.
Clean.
Final.
Damien stared at it.
For the first time, he didn’t wonder why she had left him.
He wondered why she had stayed so long.
A memory returned in pieces.
Three years ago.
Three days before their wedding.
He had been in study, preparing for an overseas acquisition call.
Evelyn had stood at the door with a blue folder in her arms.
“I wanted to show you something.”
He hadn’t looked up.
“Leave it there.”
“It’s important.”
“So is this meeting.”
She had gone quiet.
Then she said softly, “Okay.”
That was all.
No argument.
No tears.
No demand.
Just one quiet word.
And then she had walked away.
Back then, he thought she was being considerate.
Now he understood.
She had been learning how to disappear.
Another page slipped from the folder.
It was handwritten.
The ink had faded slightly, but he recognized her handwriting immediately.
If I win, I’ll tell Damien everything.
If I lose, I’ll try again next year.
Either way…
I hope he’ll be proud of me.
Damien’s fingers tightened around the paper.
Proud.
That word hurt more than accusation.
Because she had not wanted money.
Or praise.
Or permission.
She had only wanted him to look at her dream and see that it mattered.
At the bottom of the page, another sentence was added later.
Smaller.
Almost hidden.
You never asked what I wanted.
Eventually… I stopped telling you.
The studio was silent.
Damien stood there with the blue folder open in front of him, surrounded by every version of Evelyn he had never bothered to meet.
A designer.
A finalist.
A woman who had been ready to fly to Paris.
A woman who had turned back before he even knew she was leaving.
He carefully placed the handwritten note back into the folder.
Not because he wanted to hide it.
Because touching it suddenly felt too intimate.
Like reading a confession meant for a man he had never become.
Across the city, Aurora Jewelry’s boardroom was anything but quiet.
A senior director stood at the end of the long glass table, his voice controlled but firm.
“The Paris launch should be delayed.”
Several executives nodded.
“The European market is unstable,” he continued. “Investors are cautious. If we push forward now, we risk losing momentum.”
Evelyn sat at the head of the table.
Cream suit.
Hair tied back.
No wedding ring.
No hesitation.
She flipped through the report in front of her, then looked up.
“Where are your numbers?”
The director paused.
“We’re basing this on market sentiment.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
The room went still.
Evelyn slid the report across the table.
“Page twenty-three. Sales projections. Supply contracts. Currency risk. Distribution timeline. All calculated.”
The director lowered his eyes to the page.
His confidence thinned.
Evelyn’s voice remained calm.
“Fear is not a strategy.”
No one spoke.
Then she added,
“Paris didn’t fail before because the dream was wrong.”
A small pause.
“It failed because I walked away from it.”
The room fell completely silent.
She closed the file.
“This time, I won’t.”
No one challenged her decision.
Not because she was the president.
Because everyone in the room understood one thing.
Evelyn Hart never asked people to trust her instincts.
She showed them the numbers first.
Only then did she ask them to believe.
She closed the presentation.
“The Paris Collection launches next month.”
“Let’s move on.”
The meeting continued.
Designs.
Budgets.
Production schedules.
One by one, decisions were made.
Half an hour later, the directors quietly left the room.
Only Evelyn remained.
She stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Paris.
Three years ago, that word had meant possibility.
Today…
It meant something entirely different.
She wasn’t going back to reclaim the dream she had abandoned.
She was building a new one.
One that no longer required anyone’s permission.
A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.
Her assistant stepped inside.
“President Hart.”
“The Blackwood Group has contacted us.”
Evelyn didn’t turn around.
“What do they want?”
“They’d like to arrange a meeting with Designer E.H.”
For a moment…
Nothing changed in Evelyn’s expression.
Only the slight tightening of her fingers around the coffee cup betrayed that she had heard every word.
“So…”
“He finally opened the notebook.”
The assistant looked surprised.
“You knew he would?”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“I knew he would.”
“He just wouldn’t do it immediately.”
Silence settled between them.
The assistant hesitated before asking,
“Should I schedule the meeting?”
Evelyn finally turned around.
Her expression was calm.
Professional.
Completely unreadable.
“No.”
The assistant blinked.
“No?”
“He isn’t looking for me.”
“He’s looking for answers.”
“And those are two different things.”
She picked up the blue presentation folder from the table.
“There are still ninety-five pages left.”
The assistant looked confused.
“Ninety-five?”
Evelyn simply smiled.
“Never mind.”
She walked past him toward her office.
Her footsteps were steady.
Not once did she look back.
At the Blackwood mansion…
Damien remained inside the studio long after sunset.
The blue folder still lay open across the drafting table.
Every document.
Every cancelled reservation.
Every abandoned opportunity.
He read them all again.
Not because he had missed something.
Because he couldn’t accept that he had missed everything.
His phone vibrated.
Lucas.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
“What is it?”
“I found some information about E.H.”
Damien straightened immediately.
“What did you find?”
“Not much.”
“That’s the strange part.”
“There are hundreds of interviews about E.H.’s work…”
“…but almost none about the person.”
“No public photographs.”
“No personal profile.”
“No social media.”
“It was almost as if…”
Lucas stopped.
“As if what?”
“…as if someone wanted the designer to disappear.”
Damien looked back at the sketches covering the desk.
Disappear.
The word echoed strangely in his mind.
Had Evelyn disappeared…
Or had he simply never looked?
He opened the notebook again.
For the first time…
Not because he was curious.
Because he needed it.
Slowly, he turned to the next page.
Item No. 5 Go to Aurora Jewelry.
He frowned.
That was all.
No explanation.
He looked closer.
There was another sentence.
Smaller.
Written beneath the first one.
As though Evelyn had hesitated before adding it.
Ask for Designer E.H.
Damien’s heartbeat quickened.
Designer E.H.
Again.
The same initials.
The same name that kept appearing beside Evelyn’s forgotten dreams.
He reached for his phone.
His fingers hovered over Lucas’s number.
Then stopped.
No.
This wasn’t something another person could investigate for him.
If the notebook wanted him to go to Aurora…
He would go himself.
Across the city…
The lights inside Aurora Jewelry gradually went out.
Most employees had already gone home.
Only one office on the top floor remained illuminated.
Evelyn sat alone at her desk.
In front of her lay an identical navy notebook.
Except this one was blank.
She uncapped a fountain pen.
Thought for a long time.
Then slowly wrote a single sentence.
Some people only begin to see you…
after you’ve disappeared from their world.
She read it once.
Then quietly closed the notebook.
Outside the glass windows, the city lights shimmered against the night sky.
For three years…
She had written ninety-nine things she thought Damien needed after losing her.
She had never imagined…
He would actually read them.
Or that every page would force him to meet a version of her…
He had never taken the time to know.
The following morning…
A black Bentley stopped outside Aurora Jewelry’s headquarters.
Damien stepped out.
He looked up at the silver logo above the entrance.
AURORA JEWELRY
Employees hurried in and out of the revolving doors.
No one recognized him.
For the first time in years…
He wasn’t the most important person in the building.
He took one slow breath.
Then walked toward the reception desk.
The receptionist smiled politely.
“Good morning, sir.”
“How may I help you?”
Damien met her eyes.
“I’m looking for Designer E.H.”
The receptionist’s smile remained perfectly professional.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Damien hesitated.
“…No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Designer E.H. doesn’t meet visitors without an appointment.”
She paused for a moment before asking the question that made him unexpectedly uncomfortable.
“And may I ask…”
“…who should I say is looking for her?”
Damien instinctively opened his mouth.
“I’m her—”
The word caught in his throat.
Husband.
Was he still?
His eyes lowered briefly.
Then, for the first time in three years, Damien Blackwood introduced himself without using his title.
“My name is Damien.”
The receptionist nodded politely.
“I’ll see if Designer E.H. is available.”
She picked up the phone.
Upstairs…
A quiet office phone began to ring.
- Writer
