Chapter 24
The Blue Candy

The four days Layla spent alone were strangely unreal.

She did exactly as Uncle Bill had jokingly instructed—locked the windows, and even carried the hunting rifle from his room to keep beside her bed.

But even with such precautions, sleep eluded her. She startled at her own cries in the night, tormented by nightmares that came unbidden. Usually she was beaten, or abandoned. And sometimes, between those dreams, his face would flicker—the man’s face. Then the memory of that kiss would rise, sinking her deeper into the mire of dream.

When the sun came up, it seemed as though the day would never end.

She kept herself constantly busy. Feeding the animals, tending the garden, scrubbing every corner of the already spotless house. She laundered every curtain and sheet, organized the shed. Yet she could not bring herself to read or study. For some reason, the words refused to focus before her eyes.

Still, the daylight dragged on endlessly, and she was alone. Pacing in restless anxiety until night returned, bringing more nightmares.

On the fourth morning, apron tied tight, she stepped into the yard—and froze.

Strange. Bill had always spent most of his hours at work, and unless she helped him, Layla had her own studies and chores to fill her time.

They hadn’t spent every moment together. But they had shared meals, and each evening he returned to the warm glow of the house, where they exchanged small stories about their day. And so…

“This is the first time.”

The realization struck her dumb. Since being cast out to Berck and meeting Uncle Bill, not a single day had passed without him by her side. He had always been there. She had never been truly alone.

But now, she was.

The sudden awareness made her remember something else: just how lonely, how bitter, how frightening her wandering childhood had been, before him.

She forced herself to move again, scattering grain for the chickens, milking the goat. But her eyes kept darting to the far side of the yard.

The wish for his return grew so fervent it was almost prayer. If only Uncle Bill came back, everything would be fine again. If she was no longer alone, the sorrow of growing up, the horror of that first kiss, this confusion and despair—they would all vanish.

“Kyle Etman.”

Startled, Kyle looked back. His father stood quietly behind his chair.

“Father.”

He rose at once. The same book lay open on his desk, untouched for days since the evening he had declared he wanted to marry Layla.

“You’re home early.”

He glanced from the bright window to his father’s face. Dr. Etman’s lips curved warmly.

“It’s the weekend, Kyle.”

“What? Already?”

“I don’t need to ask where your mind has been. I can see well enough.”

Smiling softly, Dr. Etman took the chair his son had just vacated. He clearly meant to talk. Nervously, Kyle pulled up another chair and sat opposite him.

That night, his father had given no answer—only told him to wait, to think for a few days. And Kyle knew, from that tone, no further words would move him. So he had waited. Waited, instead of running to Layla. Endured the slow, torturous crawl of the clock. He couldn’t risk hurting her with promises he couldn’t keep.

“I understand your heart,” his father said now. “I know how much you care for her. But Kyle, marriage… you and Layla are both still young.”

“But you married Mother the very year you entered medical school.”

“That was twenty years ago.”

“And Lady Brandt—she’s only a year older than Layla, and she’s already getting engaged next week.”

“That’s…”

“And the young lady from the Arndt house—she’s Layla’s age. The one Mother introduced me to.”

Kyle countered every point calmly, firmly. At last, Dr. Etman laughed softly.

“So it’s more serious than I thought.”

“I know I’m young. I know what you’re worried about.”

“And yet you’re stubborn enough to push ahead anyway? For Layla?”

“Yes.”

His answer was immediate, without hesitation. To Kyle, it was as natural as breathing.

“If it’s about her studies, well—we could sponsor her. Our family could help her go to university.”

His father’s gaze was gentle, but grave.

“Layla is a good girl. Upright, intelligent. I would gladly help, if that’s what she wished.”

“I do want her to study, Father. But what I want most is to marry her.”

“Marriage isn’t just about the two of you.”

“I know. Family, conditions, appearances, status—I’m not saying those things don’t matter at all.”

“Then why be so obstinate?”

“Because no matter how important those things are, they can’t matter more than the person you’ll spend your life with.”

“Kyle.”

“I want to be a good doctor, a good husband, a good father—just as you’ve been. But Father, for me, all of that begins with Layla.”

His heart pounded, but he pressed on, voice steady.

“I want to live beside her, to be her good man. Her good husband. The good father of her children. Without her name next to mine, none of it makes sense.”

He looked up, eyes clear and unwavering.

“Without her, I can’t be that man.”

Dr. Etman studied his son’s face in silence.

“I don’t want to lose her,” Kyle said. His gray eyes shone with resolve.

“Help me protect her, Father.”

Evening came, and still Bill Remmer had not returned.

With no more chores left to keep herself occupied, Layla sat on the porch, staring at the empty chair that loomed so large without him in it.

What if there’d been an accident?

The thought made her shoot to her feet. She remembered a newspaper story about a train crash. And why only trains? Carriages overturned, automobiles collided—accidents were everywhere.

She paced the yard, circling, circling. At last, as the sun began to set, she gathered her courage and walked toward the mansion’s gates—the very path she had avoided these past days for fear of the duke.

With every step, she thought of Uncle Bill.

As a child, she had trained herself to imagine the worst. Unprepared misfortune was deadly. But if she braced herself—just a little—it hurt less.

When her relatives’ glances turned sour, she prepared for the scolding, the blows, the words that would cut. Even when she was cast out, she tried to act with dignity, to smile brighter on the road to the next house.

Perhaps because of that, the hurt had always been a little less.

But with Uncle Bill… she had no such preparation.

“Uncle…”

The word slipped from her lips like a prayer as she crossed the threshold of the gates.

He wouldn’t leave her. He would come back. He had to.

Please come back.

Don’t leave me alone.

Just days ago she had laughed at his worries about leaving her. Now she was crushed by the weight of those same days.

‘Mom, where are you going?’

She had asked innocently, clutching the glass jar of candy her mother had given her. The jar was beautiful, full of bright jewels. Her mother had been just as beautiful that day.

‘Far away.’

After a long silence, her mother had answered briefly.

‘Then… you’ll be late?’

Impatient, eager to eat one of the candies, Layla had pressed.

‘Yes.’

‘How long?’

‘Very late.’

‘But you’ll be back before I finish these, right?’

She had shaken the jar of colored sweets, and her mother had nodded, wordless.

‘Yes.’

Another short answer.

‘I promise.’

She shouldn’t have said it, not if she meant to leave forever.

Too beautiful to remain the wife of a poor man, her mother had abandoned her husband and child. Some said she became a nobleman’s mistress. Others, that she married a rich merchant and went abroad. People whispered, twisted, and enjoyed their rumors until they lost interest.

But the reality left behind was cruel: a ruined man and an abandoned girl.

Her once kind father drowned himself in drink, unable to look at the face that reminded him of the woman who had left.

Layla had eaten the candy slowly, waiting. When the jar was nearly empty, she finally knew her mother would never return—but refused to admit it. That was why she could never eat the last candy.

She only did, at last, when her father too was gone. Wasted by drink and illness, he had smiled at her one final time.

‘When the flowers bloom, let’s go to the park together, Layla.’

His weak voice had spoken those words, and that evening, he died. The promise became his last.

If you’re going to leave, don’t leave promises behind.

While her relatives bickered over what to do with her, Layla had been left alone in the empty house, with nothing but that promise and one piece of candy.

She still remembered it. Blue, transparent, glimmering like a jewel.

On the day there was nothing left to eat, she had crushed it between her teeth. The shards cut her tender mouth, salty with blood, but she had crunched it down, sobbing.

Sweet, bitter sorrow. Outside, the blossoms fell in pink showers, like spring snow.

“Uncle!”

On the plane tree road, Layla’s eyes widened.

“Uncle!”

Her wan face lit up with a radiant smile.

“Uncle Bill!”

She ran toward Bill Remmer, striding down the lane.

And just then, a black car carrying the duke turned into the same road.