Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 87

Even if she couldn’t truly cure anyone, at least her efforts could become a valuable case study for doctors–an experience worth sharing.

It was true what they said: once hope creeps back into your life, everything feels a little lighter, a little calmer.

After her meridian therapy session, she wandered through a nearby mall and spotted a newly opened ice cream shop. She treated herself to a scoop of pistachio, savoring every bite before hailing a cab home.

Next on her list was booking her student visa appointment.

She chose the earliest available date. When the confirmation email arrived, she felt a

flutter of joy—small, but real.

Traveling these past few days had left her somewhat drained.

After securing her appointment, she ate a little, took a shower, and slipped into bed early. Lying there, she scrolled through her phone–searching for rental listings, reading posts about studying abroad, looking for potential classmates.

It didn’t take long to figure out how to rent an apartment; soon, she was browsing a website filled with listings.

As images of foreign apartments and unfamiliar streetscapes filled her screen, emotion welled up inside her, sudden and overwhelming. Before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face–tears she couldn’t stop.

But these were happy tears, the kind that come after a long struggle, when hardship finally gives way to hope.

She imagined wings sprouting from her back, stretching wide and strong. Soon, when they were fully grown, she would be ready to fly–to someplace far away, toward a brand new sky.

Night had fallen outside her window, cloaking everything in darkness. She realized, with a bittersweet pang, that there was now one less day until she would leave this place behind.

These days, she counted her life out by the days remaining.

She had no idea where Theodore had gone tonight after returning to Cresthaven, and for the first time, she didn’t care.

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Once upon a time, she would have waited up for him–especially in those early days of marriage, when she was still hoping to bridge the distance between them. But the truth was, before they married, their lives had never truly intersected.

She’d yearned to draw closer, asking where he went, what he did.

Every day, his answer was the same: “Work.”

Of course, she knew he’d gone to the office. But was that all he had to say to her?

She wanted to share her own days–what she’d read, what she’d done–but he never

seemed interested.

Eventually, she understood: his indifference wasn’t thoughtlessness, but a deliberate wall. He had no desire to talk, no interest in sharing his world, and certainly no curiosity about her quiet days at home. As long as she was alive and untroubled, he didn’t see the need to pay attention.

It was after ten when Theodore finally returned.

Her tears hadn’t yet dried. Hearing the door open, she quickly cleared her phone’s browsing history.

“Sir, would you like anything to eat?” Fallon’s voice called out.

“No, I’ve already had dinner,” Theodore replied, then headed straight to the bedroom.

Emma rolled over, pretending to be asleep, unwilling to let him see the tears she’d shed for the future she longed for.

The night passed in silence. After his shower, Theodore went straight to bed, never noticing anything amiss.

The next morning, Emma had an early session–her meridian therapy was scheduled for eight. She rose before dawn, bustling about the house to get ready. Just as she was about to leave, Fallon reminded her, “Ma’am, sir’s suitcase still hasn’t been unpacked.”

Theodore’s suitcase sat by the front door.

In the past, whenever he came home from a trip, she would unpack his suitcase that very night, wash his clothes, and put everything back in its place.

To her, a suitcase was a personal thing–something she felt should be handled by herself, not left for Fallon.

But today, she suddenly realized how misplaced her feelings had been. If the suitcase

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truly was something personal, then her fussing over it was unnecessary. To

Theodore, she and Fallon were little different–just two people living under the same roof, strangers in everything that mattered.

Chapter 88

Chapter 88