Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Chuck's expression was solemn. He glanced around, set down his glass of bourbon, and murmured to Leanne, "Can we talk in private for a second?" He guided her out of the bustling banquet hall to the balcony outside. The sliding glass door opened and then shut behind them, leaving the noise and festivities as if in another world, separated by the chill of the evening rain.

Chuck finally dropped his guard, adopting the tone of an elder speaking with gravity and concern, "Kid, you must stop bringing this up to others." "Why?" Leanne asked, her gaze direct and persistent.

Chuck sighed. "It's been years. Why dredge it all up now?"

"Because I care," Leanne replied. "No one seems to care about my parents' death but me. I need to find out who did it."

"I don't know where you'd even start. I don't know anything about it, and I don't know who you could trust."

She changed her approach. "Mr. Chuck, I can tell you had some respect for my dad. If you know anything, for his sake, could you tell me?" Chuck's expression was a mix of emotions, and he hesitated before cautioning her. "If you trust me, take my advice and stop digging. It isn't something you should get involved in."

"Just enjoy your life. Curtis loves you, so live well with him. That's the best way to honor your father's memory."

"Mr. Chuck..."

decided, swiftly turning and striding

but was afraid of

Mary, and Chuck, what were they

to the bone in

her like a wave of emptiness as she saw Curtis standing at the end

on her and then toward the balcony, though it was unclear how long he'd been

was too indifferent, devoid of expression

have seen Chuck coming

around her heart, wondering how to explain the ten minutes she'd spent

walked toward her, asking, "Enjoying

fetch a clean towel, gently wiping the dampness from her shoulders and hair with a tenderness that belied the coldness in

to speak but struggled to find