33| A Mother's Concern

Sophie felt somber.

Extremely somber.

It had been a week since her fight with Ethan, and they still weren't really talking. Instead, they seemed to be tiptoeing around each other, carefully avoiding anything that might break the fragile quiet between them.

To talk to him first? Or wait for him to talk to her?

She didn't know.

They had both hurt each other, and now they were stuck in this strange limbo, unsure of where they stood.

But if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that the silence between them was unbearable.

Sophie wasn't used to this—wasn't used to feeling so completely disconnected from someone she cared about. Growing up as the older sister, it was always Lily who ignored her after a fight, not the other way around.

Would she even call this the silent treatment?

No.

It was more like they saw each other but didn't see each other.

They avoided eye contact, stumbled through awkward, near-nonexistent interactions whenever they crossed paths. They existed in the same space without really existing together.

And she hated it.

At first, she had been angry. Furious that she didn't know where she stood in Ethan's life. But then again... had she ever asked?

She hated that he pushed her away whenever they got too close.

But before Claire, things had been good.

Hadn't they?

Had she ruined a good thing?

By letting Claire get to her?

They hadn't confessed anything, but maybe they would have.

But if Ethan didn't care, why would he have come to her shop after their fight? Why had he stood outside instead of coming in? Why wouldn't he just—

Fight for her?

The same thoughts kept circling in her mind, over and over, leaving her restless and unsure.

So when Evelyn Sinclair—Ethan's mother—called her out of the blue that morning to invite her to lunch, Sophie didn't know how to feel.

Would meeting his mother even help anything?

But maybe—just maybe—Evelyn could help her make sense of Ethan. The man she could never seem to figure out.

The restaurant Evelyn had chosen was one of those impossibly exclusive places Sophie wouldn't dream of stepping into on her own.

Everything about it screamed wealth, from the tasteful art on the walls to the immaculate table settings. Sophie smoothed down her floral dress as she stepped inside, feeling slightly out of place amidst the hum of polite conversation and the soft clinking of cutlery.

Evelyn sat at a table by the window, the city skyline serving as a picturesque backdrop. Even seated, her presence was commanding—poised and elegant, despite her small frame.

"Mrs. Sinclair," Sophie greeted as she reached the table.

Evelyn's lips curved into a faint smile. "Please, call me Evelyn. We're both Sinclairs now."

Sophie returned the smile, her nerves easing just a little. "Of course, Evelyn."

A waiter appeared, pulling out Sophie's chair and presenting the menu with a flourish. Sophie murmured a thank-you, but her attention kept shifting to Evelyn, who was studying her.

"Thank you for joining me," Evelyn began, her tone polite but guarded. "I've been meaning to get to know you better."

"Thank you for inviting me. It's a beautiful place," Sophie said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach.

She studied Evelyn more closely now, and she couldn't help but notice just how much Ethan resembled her—almost like a female version of him.

The resemblance was uncanny, except for one key difference.

The eyes.

Ethan's eyes were a deep, piercing blue—the same shade his father had.

While his father's gaze carried an icy, almost unfeeling chill, Ethan's had always held something warmer, something thoughtful. Even when he was lost in work, even when he thought no one was watching—

That quiet intensity had never felt distant.

Seeing Ethan in Evelyn brought an unexpected sense of comfort.

Like sitting across from her gave Sophie a glimpse into a piece of Ethan—

A part of him she was just beginning to realize she knew so little about.

They placed their orders, and as the waiter disappeared, Evelyn leaned back slightly, still watching Sophie closely. "How are you adjusting to being a wife? It must be quite an adjustment, especially given the circumstances."

Sophie hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It's been... challenging, but I'm managing. Ethan and I are still figuring things out." She silently applauded herself for sounding composed.

Being married to Ethan often felt like dating a celebrity—every word needed to be weighed.

Evelyn nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. My marriage to Robert was arranged as well. It's not as easy as people make it sound. Robert wasn't a kind or affectionate man, and it took years to find any common ground."

Sophie blinked, surprised by Evelyn's candor. "I didn't know that. That must have been hard."

"It was," Evelyn admitted, her tone softening slightly. "But you find ways to cope. You adapt."

Their conversation paused as the waiter returned with their drinks and appetizers. The plates were beautifully arranged, but Sophie barely noticed. She was still processing Evelyn's words.

"How is your flower shop doing?" Evelyn asked after a moment, her voice warmer now. "I imagine it must be hard to balance work and marriage."

Sophie brightened at the mention of her shop. "It's tough, but it's my passion. It gives me a sense of purpose and joy, even on the hardest days."

Evelyn's lips curved into a small smile. "It's good to have something like that. A place where you feel at home."

Sophie hesitated, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Earlier, you said you find ways to cope..." She trailed off before taking a quiet breath. "I've always dreamed of having a life partner I could love. Someone to share everything with. Do you think that's possible in... this world?"

Evelyn studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile, she replied, "You're right to want that, but love isn't always part of the equation here. What people lack in affection, they often make up for in assets. You just have to decide what you can live with."

Sophie smiled back, but there was sadness in it.

A life without love... it felt unbearably lonely.

She realized then that she had been so wrong about Evelyn. She had assumed she was too elegant, too composed, too distant to be relatable. But now, sitting across from her, Sophie felt something unexpected—

A shared understanding.

Evelyn took a delicate sip of her tea, her expression softening slightly. "Ethan has always been very dedicated to his work, sometimes to the detriment of everything else. He's very much like his father in that regard."

Sophie's face fell, the memory of their recent fight still raw.

"Actually, we had a big fight recently," she admitted, her voice quieter. "And I don't know how to reach him."

Despite her nerves, she felt strangely at ease confiding in Evelyn.

"Sometimes... he's so hard to reach. So distant," she whispered.

Evelyn's gaze turned thoughtful, her tone tinged with understanding. "Ethan's always been focused and driven. He's only ever been concerned with practical things. When it comes to emotions..." She trailed off, exhaling softly.

"I wish he didn't inherit our bad habit. You see, our family... well, we aren't the best at showing affection."

Sophie bit her lip, Evelyn's words settling over her like a quiet revelation.

That day—when Ethan had told her how he felt. When he told her he was hurt.

Had he actually been opening up to her?

And she hadn't even realized it?

Why hadn't she told him then and there that she—

"I guess it was hard for him," Evelyn murmured, pulling Sophie from her spiraling thoughts. Her shoulders sagged slightly, betraying a rare vulnerability. "I wish I could help more, but there's always been a gap between Ethan and me. I seldom call him unless it's necessary."

A wave of sadness washed over Sophie.

The thought of having such a distant relationship with her own child was heartbreaking.

"Do you ever wish to call him more often?" Sophie asked quietly. "To talk to him?"

Evelyn paused, her gaze drifting toward the window, eyes tracing the city skyline.

"I don't know what we'd talk about," she admitted. "It's hard to bridge a gap that's been there for so many years."

Sophie's heart ached at the quiet vulnerability in her voice.

"I think he'd like to hear from you," she said gently. "Even if it's just everyday things. He cares more than he shows."

Actually, he cared a lot.

He cared more than people gave him credit for. He was always thoughtful, always apologizing whenever he hurt her—even if it wasn't intentional. He never wanted to hurt her. Not really. Even when they fought, he tried to understand her feelings, even if he didn't always know how.

Evelyn turned back to Sophie, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Perhaps," she said softly. "Thank you, Sophie. It's... comforting to know he has someone like you. Someone who can talk to him about everyday things."

But had she hurt him?

The thought gnawed at Sophie, settling like a weight in her chest.

As their lunch continued, the formal politeness between them began to fade, replaced by something more open, more real. Sophie realized that the cold, untouchable exterior Evelyn carried wasn't indifference. It was habit. A carefully maintained distance built over years—one that she wasn't sure how to undo.

But beneath it, Evelyn cared.

She just didn't know how to show it.

Evelyn's gaze grew distant as she swirled her tea.

"Ethan has always been... complex," she began. "Even as a child, he was different. Quiet. Always in his head. He felt the weight of his father's expectations early on. It's just... how we raised him."

Sophie leaned forward slightly, drawn in. "What was he like as a kid?"

A faint smile played on Evelyn's lips, and for a moment, she seemed lost in a memory.

"Determined," she said finally. "Even as a boy, he was relentless about succeeding, about making us proud. Robert demanded perfection, and Ethan thrived under pressure, but..."

The smile faded.

"There's always a cost."

Sophie nodded, her chest tightening. "I see that in him now. He's so driven. Sometimes it feels like he's carrying the world on his shoulders."

"He is," Evelyn agreed, her voice tinged with regret. "And he's never known any different. We raised him to be strong, to be successful—but we forgot to teach him how to be vulnerable. How to express his feelings. It's a mistake I see now, but back then..."

She trailed off, and for the first time, Sophie saw something unmistakable in her eyes.

Regret.

It was clear now—Evelyn had wanted to do better.

She just hadn't known how.

The older woman took a sip of her wine, composing herself before continuing.

"I never knew love," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "So I didn't know how to give it to him."

Sophie's breath caught.

Evelyn's eyes remained fixed on the table, her fingers tracing the delicate rim of her glass.

"I was so cold," she said, almost to herself. "So distant. He never really knew warmth. His father was demanding, but sometimes... harsh. Unforgiving. It created a distance that Ethan has struggled with his entire life."

A heaviness settled over Sophie.

So that was how Ethan had grown up.

And yet—despite it all—he was kind. He was thoughtful.

"I want to help him, Evelyn," Sophie said quietly. "I really do. But sometimes it feels like he's shutting me out. Like he's afraid to let me in."

Evelyn's gaze lifted, her eyes meeting Sophie's with an intensity that belied her usual cool demeanor.

"Aren't we all?" she said, voice softer now. "Afraid of failing. Of being vulnerable."

Sophie's chest tightened.

She was right.

Even now, Sophie was still afraid. Afraid of letting Ethan in completely. She trusted him, but that didn't mean she wasn't scared.

"But I believe that if anyone can reach him," Evelyn continued, "it's you, Sophie."

Sophie exhaled, steadying herself.

"I'll try my best," she said. Then, quieter, more certain— "I really do like him, Evelyn. I want him to know that. That I'll be the person by his side."

Evelyn's expression softened further, and for a moment, she looked almost maternal.

"I know he cares for you, Sophie. More than he knows how to express." Her voice was quiet, but sure. "It's not easy for him, and it won't be easy for you either. But if you can break through those walls, I think you'll find my son—someone who loves genuinely and kindly."

The words settled deep inside Sophie, resonating in a way she hadn't expected.

She could reach him.

She wanted to reach him.

She glanced at Evelyn, taking in the woman's careful poise—the way she could freely express her love for her son to her, but never to Ethan himself.

Because both mother and son were trapped in the same pattern. The same inability to say what they felt.

They cared for each other deeply—but neither of them had ever learned how to show it.

And in that moment, Sophie knew.

She had to be the one to tell Ethan how she felt.

Because who had ever told him before?

As their lunch drew to a close, Evelyn reached across the table and placed her hand over Sophie's. The gesture was unexpected—but deeply moving.

"Thank you, Sophie," Evelyn said softly. "For loving my son. And for being willing to fight for him. It means more to me than I can say."

Sophie squeezed her hand gently, her own eyes misting with emotion.

"Thank you for sharing this with me, Evelyn," she said. "It helps... to understand where he's coming from."

Evelyn nodded, her gaze reflecting a mixture of hope and lingering sadness.

"I wish I had done more to show Ethan how much I love him," she admitted. "But perhaps... it's not too late for him to learn."

She looked at Sophie with something that almost felt like relief.

"With your help."

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