Under Lydia's insistence, Mrs. Lucy reluctantly handed her the phone, which was still charging. As soon as Lydia unlocked it, she saw a string of missed calls, including one just five minutes ago. The familiar number on the screen made her hesitate. She wanted to hear Quincy's voice more than anything, to feel his concern, but every time her fingers hovered over the screen, memories of his mother's harsh words flooded her mind. Just as she was wavering, the phone buzzed again, startling her so much that she almost dropped it.

"Mrs. Lucy, could you answer that for me?" Lydia asked, her fleeting courage draining away. "I'm not ready to talk to anyone right now."

Though puzzled, Mrs. Lucy agreed and picked up the call. To her surprise, the voice on the other end belonged to a man, and he sounded exhausted.

"Lydia, you finally answered," Quincy's relief was palpable, almost bursting through the phone. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you and couldn't replace you. I'm sorry for what my mom said. Please, come back." Mrs. Lucy, caught off guard, awkwardly interrupted, "Sir... I'm not Lydia."

There was a long, stunned pause on the other end before Quincy's voice, now more uncertain, came back. "Then who are you?"

"I'm just a housekeeper. Miss Lydia said she doesn't want to come back right now. She doesn't want to talk to anyone, especially not you. She asked me to tell you not to call again. She... she just needs some time alone." Lydia gestured anxiously from the side as Mrs. Lucy struggled to relay her message to Quincy. When she finished speaking, the silence on the other end stretched on, feeling as though it lasted an eternity.

After what felt like ages, Quincy's voice finally came through again, sounding utterly drained. "I understand... just make sure she takes care of herself."

As the call ended, Lydia burst into tears, her sobs uncontrollable. Mrs. Lucy, though compassionate, was at a loss on how to console her. She was of a different generation, unfamiliar with the intricacies of young love. "Mrs. Lucy, you can leave. I'll handle this," Eugene's voice interrupted as he walked in.

Relieved to be off the hook, Mrs. Lucy quickly excused herself, leaving Eugene alone with Lydia.

The bed dipped slightly as Eugene sat down beside her. Lydia shifted subtly, widening the space between them. Eugene noticed but said nothing, though his dark eyes seemed to cloud over as he watched her. "Is he really worth all of this?" Eugene asked quietly, his tone carrying an edge.

"You wouldn't understand," Lydia replied, her voice hoarse from crying.

"No, I don't," Eugene admitted, walking over to the nearby desk. He pulled out an old, rusted tin box from a drawer don't understand what makes Quincy so special that he's worth giving up everything-your life as the Fay family's daughter, your friendship and even yourself."

Lydia froze when she saw the familiar box. Her eyes locked onto it, and Eugene noticed the shift in her expression.

Taking advantage of the moment, he

opened the box, revealing a delicate

hairpin and a collection of small trinkets, each worn with age. These were objects from years ago.

Treasures that had clearly been carefully preserved despite the

passage of time.

The hairpin, once elegant, was now outdated, but it had been kept in perfect condition, as though time hadn't touched it.

"Do you remember these?" Eugene asked softly, pulling out a tiny veil. It was designed like a miniature wedding veil, complete with a small crystal crown. It was a childish trinket that had once held so much meaning.

His movements were gentle, as if he

were handling the rarest of

treasures. He placed the veil carefully in front of her. "What I said before still stands," he murmured. "What Quincy can't give you,bcan. Let me marry you."

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