Clara stopped.
She slowly looked back.
Don Baste was still staring at the photograph.
“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted honestly.
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
“At least you’re honest.”
Clara hesitated.
“People talk about you a lot.”
“I know.”
“They call you terrible names.”
His fingers tightened around the photograph.
“I know.”
“But I don’t think someone is a monster just because people decide they are.”
For the first time since their wedding, Don Baste looked directly at her.
And Clara noticed something strange.
His eyes were not the eyes of a cruel man.
They were the eyes of someone who had been hurt for a very long time.
That night, Clara found a small box outside her bedroom door.
Inside was a diamond bracelet.
Attached was a note.
“Thank you for not looking at me the way everyone else does.”
There was no signature.
But Clara knew exactly who had written it.
