Her sketchbook was nearly full.
In it, a wedding dress, the epitome of elegance, took shape under her crayon, modeled by a stunning womanâ¦
Lauraâs hand, guided by a heart full of dreams, moved diligently.
Peter and his wife had always assumed the woman in Lauraâs drawings was Cathy since Cathy loomed large in Lauraâs memories.
But Laura never told anyone it was Cecilia she was sketching.
Laura understood Markâs marriage never happened because of her.
Cecilia never even got to wear her wedding gown.
Forever crafting stunning wedding dresses in her sketches, Laura dreamed of becoming a designer.
She harbored the hope of presenting Cecilia with one of her designs someday.
That way, she thought, Cecilia wouldnât hold a grudge against Mark.
When Edwin spotted Laura from the doorway, his gaze also fell upon the wedding sketches.
A fierce anger ignited in his eyes.
He mistook the woman for Cathy as well.
Marching up to Laura, Edwin did something heâd never done beforeâhe lost his temper and ripped her sketchbook apart.
That sketchbook was a collection of Lauraâs artistic endeavors, spanning two years.
Now, it was nothing but scraps.
They fluttered down, landing on the pristine bed, amidst Lauraâs hair, and over her body.
She stared, bewildered, at the little boy before her.
His skin was perfect.
His hair, a rich brown.
His features? Echoes of Markâs.
Almost instantly, Laura pieced together who he was.
With a complexion as white as a sheet, she bent down, trying to gather the torn fragmentsâ¦
But Edwin, a mix of guilt and resentment in his tone, demanded, âWhy are you always around?â
Lauraâs face lost what little color it had left.
Just then, Lina, arms laden with fruit, walked in.
She took in the scene with the two children and looked about, bewildered⦠Where had Mark and Peter gone?
Lina, doing her best to soothe Edwin, reached for her phone to call her husband.
Lina kept her voice down, querying, âWhyâs Edwin here? The kids seem to be at loggerheads.
â