The cool night breeze brushed gently across Mindy’s face as she stepped out of Knight Penthouse. For the first time in years, she did not feel suffocated. The air felt lighter, cleaner, as though the weight pressing against her chest had finally lifted.
She paused at the entrance and turned around slowly. The magnificent building towered above her, its glass walls reflecting the glittering skyline of Greendale. It was a breathtaking sight—one that had once filled her with awe and pride.
When she first entered this place as Layton Knight’s wife, she had believed she was stepping into a dream.
She had carried endless hope in her heart, convinced that if she loved him enough, cared for him enough, and waited long enough, he would eventually love her back.
How foolish she had been.
A home, she realized now, was never built with expensive walls or luxurious furniture. It wasn’t defined by marble floors or panoramic views.
A home was where someone waited for you, where someone worried when you were hurt, where your laughter mattered.
Knight Penthouse had never been that place. It had been a house filled with silence, a space where her presence went unnoticed, where her voice echoed back at her unanswered.
It had never been her home. Not once.
A faint smile curved her lips as she whispered softly, "I’m finally free."
The words drifted into the night, carried away by the wind. She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.
Her finger hovered over one contact for only a second before pressing the call button. The name on the screen warmed her heart instantly—Poppy.
The phone barely rang once before a familiar, cheerful voice answered.
"My little Minny! What miracle is this? You finally remembered your old grandfather?"
The teasing tone was so full of affection that it made her eyes sting. For a brief moment, she couldn’t speak.
She simply stood there, listening to the voice she had missed for so long.
In her previous life, she had been so consumed by Layton and the Hawthorne family that she had slowly drifted away from the two people who had loved her without asking for anything in return.
The last conversation she remembered having with them had been months before the warehouse incident.
They had called to ask if she was eating properly, if she was sleeping enough, if she was happy.
She had hurriedly ended the call because Layton had returned home, promising to call them back later.
She never did. That small act of neglect had become one of her greatest regrets.
Taking a deep breath, Mindy smiled brightly through the lump in her throat. "Hi, Poppy," she said softly. "I’m coming home."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Jasper Wilson blinked several times, certain he had misheard. Then, slowly, his wrinkled face broke into the happiest smile he had worn in years.
Jasper Wilson was one of the country’s most respected physicians.
Throughout his long career, countless influential families had sought his help. His medical research had earned him international recognition, and even after retiring years ago, people still travelled from across the country hoping to consult him.
To the outside world, he was the legendary Dr. Jasper Wilson—a man whose name carried weight in every medical circle. But to one girl, he was simply Poppy.
His wife, Emma Wilson, was no less remarkable. Years ago, she had been hailed as one of the greatest fashion designers of her generation.
Every collection she created became an instant sensation, and her designs had influenced countless young artists.
Maria Hawthorne had inherited her extraordinary talent from Emma, and Emma had quietly passed every bit of that knowledge to her granddaughter as well.
After Maria’s tragic death, the elderly couple had poured every ounce of love they had into Mindy.
It wasn’t that they loved Drake and Jagger any less, but they could clearly see what was happening inside Hawthorne Mansion.
The warmth that Maria had spent years building had disappeared. The laughter that once filled every corner of the house had vanished.
And little by little, the brightest child in that home had begun losing the sparkle in her eyes.
Emily had often visited the Wilson residence during college, back when she was still Maria’s friend.
Maria had always described Emily as kind, hardworking, and dependable. But neither Jasper nor Emma had ever been completely convinced. It had nothing to do with Emily’s background—the Wilsons had never judged wealth or status.
What unsettled them was the way Emily looked at Maria. There had always been something hidden behind those smiling eyes—a trace of envy, a quiet resentment, a desire to possess what belonged to someone else.
They had warned Maria several times, gently at first, then more firmly. But Maria had only laughed.
"You’re overthinking, Mom," she had said with her usual warmth.
"Emily is my best friend."
They both had eventually stopped insisting, unwilling to sow discord between their daughter and her friend. Looking back now, it remained one of their greatest regrets.
After Maria’s death, Raymond had remarried Emily only a year later.
The news had shattered both Jasper and Emma. Each visit to Hawthorne Mansion afterward only deepened their heartbreak.
Maria’s paintings had disappeared from the walls.
Her flowers had been replaced by sterile arrangements.
Her favourite reading corner had become someone else’s sitting room.
Even the servants who had adored Maria had gradually left. The house no longer resembled the home their daughter had lovingly built. It felt foreign, cold, and unrecognizable.
What hurt them most, however, wasn’t the house—it was Mindy.
Every visit, she smiled a little less, spoke a little less, laughed a little less.
The light in her eyes dimmed with each passing year. Eventually, when Mindy turned sixteen and Layton began dating Missy, Jasper could no longer bear watching his granddaughter slowly disappear.
He had personally asked Raymond if Mindy could live with them in Rithol City. To his surprise, Raymond had agreed almost immediately.
At the time, Jasper had convinced himself that Raymond trusted them. Now, thinking back, he realized the truth was far simpler—Raymond simply hadn’t cared enough to object.
"You little rascal," Jasper finally said, his voice breaking through the silence.
"So now you remember your grandparents? You haven’t called us properly in over a week. Your grandmother has been nagging me every single day.
’Did Minny eat? Did Minny sleep well? Did Minny catch a cold?’ I’m starting to think she loves you more than she loves me."
Mindy burst into genuine laughter, the sound light and carefree, exactly as it had been years ago.
"Oh, stop complaining, old man," she teased. "I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Tell Granny to make my favorite lotus root soup."
Jasper pretended to snort. "So now we’re your personal chefs? You’ve become quite shameless after getting married."
She giggled softly. "I learned from the best."
"Hmph. Flattery won’t save you," he said, though his tone softened almost immediately. "But... Minny, did something happen?"
The question carried no suspicion, only concern. Unlike everyone else, Jasper always noticed when something was wrong.
Mindy looked up at the night sky. The stars seemed brighter than usual, scattered across the velvet darkness like tiny promises.
"I divorced Layton," she said gently.
"I’ve also left the Hawthorne family." Her voice was calm, without bitterness, without tears.
A long silence followed. Jasper closed his eyes. He had expected this day to come eventually, but hearing it with his own ears still made his heart ache.
Not because she had divorced, but because he knew exactly how much courage it must have taken for his granddaughter to finally let go.
For years, he had watched her cling to a love that gave her nothing in return, watched her fight for a family that never fought for her. Now, she had finally chosen herself.
Finally, he smiled. "My Minny," he said softly, "has finally come home."
Those five words shattered the last wall around Mindy’s heart. Her vision blurred, and she quickly blinked away the tears threatening to fall.
This time, they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of relief. She wasn’t alone anymore. She still had a home waiting for her.
After ending the call, Mindy drove toward the café where Ana was waiting.
The streets of Greendale were quiet at this hour, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement. When she arrived, she spotted Ana immediately.
The moment Mindy stepped inside, Ana dramatically stood up with both arms spread wide. "Come here!" she declared. "My newly divorced best friend deserves a celebration hug!"
Mindy laughed as she walked over, and the two women embraced tightly. For the next three hours, they talked endlessly.
There was no business, no schemes, no mention of the Hawthorne family—just two best friends laughing over coffee, exactly as they used to in high school.
The café was nearly empty, the soft hum of music blending with their laughter. For the first time in years, Mindy felt like herself again.
She told Ana everything that had happened at the penthouse—how Raymond had officially severed their relationship, how she had left with only one suitcase, how she had finally walked away without looking back.
Ana listened quietly, her expression shifting from disbelief to anger to admiration. When Mindy finished, Ana slammed her hand on the table, startling the barista behind the counter.
"You know what?" she said firmly. "I’ve decided."
Mindy raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I’m throwing you a divorce party."
Mindy blinked. "A divorce party?"
"Of course!" Ana grinned mischievously. "People celebrate weddings, don’t they? So why can’t we celebrate escaping one?"
Mindy gave a short laugh. The sound was bright and unrestrained, echoing through the quiet café. For the first time in years, her smile reached her eyes. Ana leaned back in her chair, smiling with satisfaction. "That’s better," she said. "You look alive again."
As the night grew deeper, Mindy finally stood up. "I should leave," she said softly.
Ana rose with her and pulled her into another hug. "Go home," she whispered. "Rest. And don’t worry about Greendale. I’ll keep the idiots entertained until you come back."
Mindy chuckled. "I know you will."
Before leaving, she opened her phone and quietly submitted the final online request she had prepared earlier that evening. The screen displayed the form she had filled out:
Name Change Application
From: Mindy Hawthorne
To: Mindy Wilson
She stared at the screen for several seconds, her reflection faintly visible against the glass. Wilson. Her mother’s surname. The name she had always been proud of. The name that carried warmth, love, and legacy. A gentle smile spread across her face as she whispered, "This is where my new life begins."
Outside the café, the night air was cool and calm. The city lights shimmered in the distance as her car slowly pulled away from the curb.
The road stretched ahead, leading her out of Greendale and toward Rithol City. The hum of the engine was steady, the rhythm of the tires against the asphalt soothing. For the first time in a long while, she felt at peace.
As the city skyline faded behind her, Mindy glanced at the horizon. The faint glow of dawn was beginning to touch the edge of the sky.
She thought of her grandparents waiting for her, of the house filled with warmth and laughter, of the smell of lotus root soup simmering in the kitchen.
She thought of her mother’s paintings, her grandfather’s gentle scolding, her grandmother’s soft hands brushing her hair.
She was going home.
The thought filled her chest with quiet joy. The pain of the past still lingered, but it no longer defined her.
The scars would remain, but they were proof of survival, not defeat. She had walked through fire and come out whole. The woman who had once begged for love was gone.
In her place stood someone stronger, wiser, and free.
The road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, she wasn’t afraid. She had people who loved her waiting at the end of it.
She had a name that belonged to her, a legacy she was ready to reclaim. The night air rushed through the open window, carrying away the last traces of the life she had left behind.
Mindy smiled as the lights of Greendale disappeared in the rearview mirror. The city that had once been her cage was now just a memory.
Ahead of her lay Rithol City—the place where her story had begun, and where it would begin again.
She was finally going home.