Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 270

The students loved to joke around, and soon the comment section was flooded: “Mr. Whitman showing off his love—what a rare sight!”

But one student broke the pattern, leaving a different message: “Happy birthday, Mrs. Whitman.”

That was all it took for everyone else to follow suit, and suddenly there was a string of “Happy birthday, Mrs. Whitman!” comments, each one playful and teasing in tone.

Only Carlisle stood out, typing: “Doesn’t she have a name? Who exactly is ‘Mrs. Whitman’? Can’t we just say ‘Happy birthday, Emma’?”

Among the uniform messages, his stood out like a beacon.

Renee and Theodore only shared friends from high school, so the only posts Renee could see were those from their mutual acquaintances.

Renee messaged her: “Did Theodore find you?”

Emma replied, “Yeah, I have no idea how he managed that.”

Renee sent a sighing emoji. “I still don’t get what’s going on between you two. You were always close since high school. It hasn’t been easy making it this far, but no matter what, I’ll always be on your side.”

This time, Emma sent back a string of question marks: “Since when was I close with him in high school???”

She honestly hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words with him! Where did people get the idea that they were close?

Renee replied, “Weren’t you? Back then, everyone gossiped that you and Theodore were dating.”

Emma: “??? No way! We weren’t!”

Okay, she’d had a crush on Theodore—she could admit that. But he’d always been ice-cold toward her. Where did this rumor even start? Besides, back in high school, the second there was even a hint that a guy and a girl were dating, the others would tease them relentlessly. Even if a teacher called two names together, the whole class would burst into laughter. But that never happened with her and Theodore—not once. No one ever teased them about being together.

But all of that was ancient history now. Whatever kind of person Theodore was, she couldn’t care less anymore.

Just as Emma was ready to drop the subject, Renee piped up again: “Is this the only time Theodore’s ever posted on his feed?”

Before Emma could respond, Renee sent a screenshot of Theodore’s entire profile page. There were no visible timestamps, but it was completely blank except for this single post.

Emma thought, “As if that’s the only one. He probably just deleted everything else.”

Not exactly something to brag about. Whatever. She brushed it off and changed the subject.

Renee clearly picked up on Emma’s reluctance and let it go, wrapping up with a cheerful, “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. Everything else can buzz off!”

That finally drew a smile from Emma, who replied with a thank you and a hug emoji.

That night, she slept soundly.

The next morning, they were set to leave Venice by boat.

At the dock, everyone bustled about, hauling their things onto the boat.

Emma wasn’t strong enough for heavy lifting, but whenever they moved from place to place, she always pitched in with the lighter props—and, of course, took care of her own luggage so as not to trouble the rest of the group.

She was wheeling her suitcase down the dock when, suddenly, someone took it right out of her hands.

“I mean… it’s a hard life, isn’t it? Always on the move, working yourself to the bone. You don’t even have anyone to carry your luggage, let alone help with the tough stuff. Wouldn’t life be easier if you stayed with me, let me take care of you?”

So that was what he meant…

Emma answered earnestly, “I’m happy—I really am. This is the life I want. I told you before: these past few days have been the happiest I’ve had in five years. I’m not being stubborn. I mean it.”

Theodore’s expression softened, a real smile flickering across his face. “I can see that. So…”

He hesitated, looking away. “So I’m leaving. Heading back.”

“Oh, okay!” Emma suddenly remembered the necklace from yesterday. “Wait—let me get your necklace from the boat. I’ll give it back—”

“No need,” he interrupted. “It was a gift. I never take back gifts.”

Emma gave him a helpless look. “If you won’t take it, I’ll just sell it to a secondhand shop!”

He chuckled. “Then sell it. At least it’ll have served a purpose.”

“Theodore, you—”

Her words were cut short when he pulled her into a gentle hug—just a brief, fleeting embrace.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Goodbye.”