He intentionally drew out his words, walking over to Silas Sutton.
Tilting his head to inspect the crumpled bedsheets, he made no effort to hide his gossipy curiosity.
Sean Crane, on the other hand, was more restrained and steady.
Pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses, he coughed lightly and nudged Ryan Rhodes’s arm.
“Stop messing around.”
Then, he turned to Silas.
With a sincere expression and a considerate tone, he said, “All men are like this.
It’s nothing to make a fuss about.
“It’s my fault for not planning thoroughly.
Mr.
Sutton has been cooped up in there for three years.
I should have made arrangements for him yesterday.
Then Mr.
Sutton wouldn’t have had to…” At this point, he pressed his lips tightly together, trying hard to hold back a laugh, but ultimately failed.
“HAHAHA!” Ryan had already burst into laughter at Sean’s deadpan teasing.
“Sean, did you see that?
Mr.
Sutton is blushing!
My God, I’ve known him for twenty years, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen him blush!”
Silas’s face was indeed red.
It wasn’t the flush of embarrassment, but a mixture of annoyance and helplessness that spread all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears.
Gritting his back teeth, he squeezed out a single word.
“Scram.”
His voice was low, carrying a warning.
His two best friends exchanged a glance and laughed even harder.
Silas took a deep breath, trying to claw back a shred of his dignity.
He tossed the bedsheets aside.
Since he had already been exposed, he might as well own it.
He then turned his back to them and tightened the belt of his bathrobe.
“I dreamed about her again last night,” he said suddenly, his voice low.
Ryan’s exaggerated laughter came to an abrupt halt.
The room fell silent, save for the chirping of birds outside the window.
“Dreamed about who?” Ryan asked, though he already knew the answer.
The teasing glint in his eyes deepened.
“Was it Mrs.
Sutton?
HAHAHA!”
Sean, however, sharply caught the word “again” in Silas’s sentence.
“Again?” Sean repeated.
He walked over, placed a hand on Silas’s shoulder, and sighed.
“Did you dream about Mrs.
Sutton often while you were locked up?”
Silas didn’t answer.
He took a deep breath and walked over to the window, gazing out at the meticulously manicured garden.
For three years, the garden had been well-tended, but he no longer recognized the flowers.
Just as he wasn’t sure if Sprout was still the same girl from his memories.
“Yes,” he admitted without any hesitation.
His voice was calm but carried a heavy weight.
“During those days inside, that longing and concern…
it grew wildly like weeds.”
As he spoke, he turned around to face his two friends.
The morning light streamed in from behind him, casting his face in shadow and obscuring his expression.
But the heaviness in his voice made both Ryan and Sean drop their smiles.
“For the first few months, I dreamed of her almost every night.
I dreamed of her sitting on the steps of the orphanage, waiting for me.
I dreamed of rainy days where she didn’t have an umbrella and had to hide under the eaves.
“Later…
the dreams began to change.
I dreamed that she had grown up, but she couldn’t recognize me anymore.
I called her Sprout, and she turned her head, asking me with a blank face, ‘Who are you?’
“I was so scared…” Silas’s voice was very soft, yet it rang incredibly clear in the quiet room.
Sean’s expression turned completely serious.
He pushed up his glasses, the guilt in his heart intensifying.
“It’s all my and Ryan’s fault,” Sean said softly.
“If you hadn’t taken the fall for us…”
“That’s enough,” Silas interrupted, waving a hand.
Ryan was truly thick-skinned; his guilt only lasted for a brief moment before he took the initiative to shatter the heavy atmosphere.
He clapped his hands loudly.
“Since you miss Mrs.
Sutton, what are we waiting for?
Let’s go pick her up right now!
Kyle is already waiting in the car!”
Silas nodded and headed to the en suite bathroom to wash up.
When he reached the door, he glanced back at the crumpled bedsheets he had tossed onto the floor.
His mouth twitched.
“You two, deal with that.”
“Yes, Mr.
Sutton!” Ryan stood at attention and saluted, a cheeky grin on his face.
Sean just shook his head with a smile.
He bent down to pick up the sheets, naturally rolling them up.
“I’ll have the housekeeper handle it.”
Steam filled the bathroom.
Silas stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water wash over his body.
The showers in prison were timed—five minutes each, and whether the water was hot or cold was entirely up to luck.
He had grown so accustomed to washing quickly that now, standing under his own showerhead with its eight adjustable spray modes, he actually felt a bit unaccustomed to it.
A layer of mist covered the mirror.
He reached out and wiped a patch clear, revealing his own handsome, resolute face.
After finishing washing up, he dried his body, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked into the walk-in closet.
The closet was massive, practically the size of a small bedroom.
Wardrobes lined three of the walls, packed with clothes sorted by color and season.
Silas reached for a dark gray bespoke suit.
It was perfectly tailored and made from premium fabric.
He pictured how he would look wearing it: proper, steady, and successful.
Exactly how a thirty-year-old man ought to look.
But the moment his fingers brushed against the suit, his hand stopped.
After a few seconds of hesitation, he withdrew his hand and pulled open the bottommost drawer.
A musty scent of old fabric wafted out, mingled with the faint smell of mothballs.
Neatly folded inside the drawer were old clothes.
Most were out of style, and some had even faded.
He rummaged through them with a sense of urgency until his fingertips brushed against a familiar, coarse fabric.
He pulled it out.
It was a dark brown jacket with a prominent tear on the left sleeve.
“Thank goodness, it’s still here.” The corners of Silas’s lips curled up slightly.
Five years ago, when he was injured and met Sprout for the first time, he had been wearing this exact jacket.
The jacket was a bit tight now—three years of prison life had made the muscles in his shoulders and arms much firmer.
He managed to zip it up and stood before the full-length mirror.
The man in the reflection looked like a walking contradiction.
He had the face of a mature man—chiseled features, sharp eyes, and an undeniable air of nobility—yet he was wearing an outdated, tattered jacket.
The tear on the left sleeve was especially conspicuous.
But he smiled.
It wasn’t his usual roguish smirk or a disdainful sneer, but a genuinely warm smile from the bottom of his heart.
Going to see Sprout, he wanted to put away his usual harshness and show her a warm, gentle smile.
“This is the one,” he murmured to himself.
When Silas walked out of the closet wearing that worn-out jacket, the expression on Ryan’s face was a sight to behold.
“Mr.
Sutton, you…
you’re wearing that?” Ryan circled Silas, eyeing him like he was an alien lifeform.
“Did you dig this out of an antique shop?
Or did you fish it out of a dumpster?”
Sean blinked, his eyes also clearly betraying his surprise.
“This is what I was wearing the first time I met her,” Silas explained simply, adjusting his collar in the entryway mirror.
“It’s been three years.
Maybe if I wear this, she’ll actually recognize me.”
Ryan curled his lip.
“Whenever it comes to Mrs.
Sutton, you really are…”
“Incredibly meticulous,” Sean finished for him, a hint of emotion in his voice.
Silas said nothing more.
He merely took one last look at himself in the mirror, then turned around.
“Let’s go.”