My Great Escape Led Me to You novel Chapter 149

Emily Blair unlocked her phone again, staring at the two new messages from Andrew Lane.

Her thumb hovered, scrolling through the long archive of conversations between her and Andrew. She remembered the first time she’d added Andrew Lane on social media—it was right after she’d arrived at the Lane estate, when everything about the family felt intimidating and unreachable. It was Andrew who’d approached her, who’d offered to exchange numbers and spoken the very first words.

“So, you’re Emily Blair?”

Clutching her battered, faded backpack, she’d nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yes. Hello.”

Andrew had smiled. “Alright, from now on, I’m your brother. No need to be so formal.”

She’d snuck a glance up at him, only to quickly cast her eyes back down.

A moment later, she’d murmured, “Brother…”

In that unfamiliar world, Andrew had been the first—and only—person to show her genuine kindness. It was only natural, really, that she’d grow attached to him.

At first, Emily had felt only gratitude, and she’d barely dared to do more than send the occasional “good morning” or “good night” message. Then she’d spend the whole day clutching her phone, waiting for his reply.

Andrew always responded. Sometimes quickly, sometimes hours later—but he never left a message unanswered.

Every reply felt like sunshine, sending her grinning into her pillow, unable to stop smiling.

She’d longed to message him more, but always worried she’d be a bother, so she stuck to sending him cute stickers or emojis.

As time passed, they grew more comfortable. Gradually, Emily found herself sending longer messages, gently testing the boundaries, wondering where Andrew’s line was.

And Andrew, for a while, seemed to indulge her. Maybe he really had come to see her as a little sister during that time, gentle and endlessly patient.

Even when he was at work, she’d send him a flurry of messages without overthinking it, never worried she was being a nuisance, never anxious over whether he’d reply.

It was a warm, easy familiarity she’d never known before.

In those two or three years, their chat logs grew and grew—endless green bubbles filled with her little stories from school or the Lane estate, tiny daily moments she couldn’t help but share.

Andrew’s replies were always brief, but always there. He never left her hanging.

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