Ezra was already halfway down the stairs when Blair, standing at the top, felt a sudden surge of panic. Without thinking, she called out, “Ezra!”
He paused, turning but not fully facing her. His silence felt like a chasm between them, widening with every heartbeat. She hurried down a few steps, reaching out; her fingers brushed against his wrist before wrapping around it gently. Her gut twisted into a knot, thinking it surely was the last moment she could see Ezra as the man she love with her whole heart.
Ezra didn’t pull his hand away. He remained still, his posture tense as he waited.
Blair looked up at him, studying his face as if it were the last time she would ever allow herself to do so. Her eyes lingered on every detail—the sharp line of his jaw, the faint crease in his brow, and the cold steel-blue eyes that always seemed to conceal more than they revealed. She gazed long enough to memorize the curve of his lashes, as if counting each one would somehow tether her to this moment.
Ezra remained motionless, revealing nothing.
After what felt like an eternity, Blair released his wrist, her hand trembling as she turned away from him. When her voice finally emerged, it was barely above a whisper, quivering with unexpressed sorrow. “Thank you for everything, Ezra. For all your service.” She paused, swallowing hard. “Forget everything about me, about the Wilsons, so you can live for yourself. Don’t dwell on the painful past. Just… begin your life by focusing on your own happiness.”
When she finally let go and turned away, her words struck him like a slow, inevitable collapse. Thank you for everything, Ezra. For all your service. The word “service” stung, a sharp reminder that she had finally acknowledged the truth—everything he had done for her, all the times he had stepped in, wasn’t because of some innate bond or personal desire. It had been a matter of duty, driven by their family’s obligation to repay the Wilsons for the support they had extended to the Taylor when they needed it most. Her words crystallized the distance between them, highlighting the unspoken truth that had always lingered beneath the surface of their connection.
Ezra closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the weight of her request to envelop him. Forget everything. How many times had he wished to do just that? To erase the resentment that simmered beneath his skin and the bitterness that had shadowed him for years.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, his hand slipped into his pocket and brushed against something. Pulling it out, he stared at the object in his hand, his expression tightening with surprise. It was the bank card he had left for her, accompanied by a note tucked beneath it, written in her messy, familiar handwriting.
“This is my new reality. Let me live it my way. It’ll be tough, but I’ll survive—just like everyone else who has nothing but the air they breathe.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, the corners twitching into an expression he couldn’t quite name as he tucked the black card back into his pocket.
Blair’s fingers trembled as she watched him from the window, moving further away from her reach. The sharp ache in her chest intensified as she realized how much she had relied on him and how essential his strength had been for her survival.
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She had waited so long for him to help her, to see her, and to understand the pain that had consumed her after Diane’s incident. The abandonment and betrayal had nearly killed her.
The first place Blair went was the small playground that Ezra had created when they were children, nestled deep in the forest behind the Taylor mansion. It had always been her sanctuary, the place she fled to whenever she felt upset which her parents, her grandfather, and even Ezra were aware of it. They had always found her there in the past. Surely, this time would be no different. They would come for her, she reassured herself, just as they always had.
But hours dragged on, and she lost track of time, remaining there for more than a day and no one came.
The rain poured relentlessly that night, soaking her to the bone. She sat beneath the swings, numb from the cold, praying for an end to her pain. In her despair, she even wished for a lightning to strike on her.
And then everything went dark.
When Blair opened her eyes, the sterile scent of disinfectant woken her senses before anything else. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, she gradually recognized her surroundings. The rhythmic beeping of machines, the distant murmur of voices, and the scuffling of footsteps confirmed it: she was in a hospital. Her heart surged with hope. Perhaps her family had found her. Maybe they had come for her after all.
She scanned the room, waiting and hoping to see a familiar face. However, as her eyes adjusted to the lights, that hope quickly faded. She found herself in a ward, not a private room. The chaos surrounding her was disorienting, with patients crammed into every corner, separated only by flimsy curtains.
This was not the Wilson Memorial Hospital; it was a public hospital, crowded and noisy. No one from her family came for her. No one had been searching for her—not even the Taylors, her second family.
Just then, the door creaked open, and an old woman walked into the room. Her face, deeply lined and weathered, furrowed as she looked at Blair with a pity and concern. The woman’s eyes, though tired, still held a sharpness to them, as if she had seen too much of life’s hardships but had endured them all.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the woman said, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “You gave me quite a scare out there, sitting in the rain like that. If I hadn’t dragged you here, you might’ve caught your death.”
Blair blinked, trying to process. “You…brought me here?”
The woman nodded, her voice gruff. “Who else? You were half-dead out there. If I hadn’t brought you to the hospital immediately, you’d be in a much worse state by now.”
Blair’s heart sank. So it hadn’t been her family after all. Just a stranger. She turned her head, the bitter taste of disappointment settling in her throat as the old woman began chatting casually, as if saving soaked, heartbroken young women was an everyday affair.
“Lucky I found you when I did,” the woman said, patting Blair’s hand as if they were old friends. “By the way, if you don’t have a place to go after this, I know of a nice little apartment. Very cheap—mostly ‘cause of the whole ‘haunted’ reputation, but don’t let that scare you. Rent’s low, and it’s quiet! Perfect for a fresh start. What do you say?”
Blair blinked, half wondering if this was all some sort of fever dream.
…
PS: The old woman found Blair at the secret playground while tracking her missing pregnant cat using a microchip. Sadly, the cat had died, but her newborn kitten survived, nestled beside Blair. Seeing Blair’s loneliness and despair, the old woman quietly left the kitten at Blair’s doorstep, offering her a source of comfort and companionship. The kitten became Blair’s silent companion during her darkest times, a symbol of resilience and a reminder that even in the hardest moments, life finds a way to carry on.