This was originally written for my own enjoyment, but thought I'd share *runs away and hides forever*

Douglas needed to see her. Just once more. He had to say goodbye. So he stopped as he neared the car, put his suitcase to the ground and simply said to Jean, 'I've forgotten my wallet.'

It was a slapdash lie, completely unbelievable and he knew Jean could tell. She didn't say anything. Douglas turned and took long, determined strides back into the hotel, to her room, to Evelyn. He didn't quite know what he was going to say, but he knew he had to say something. He couldn't leave without saying a farewell of sorts. Maybe he'd tell her that he had fallen in love with her, but then again how would that help anybody? He'd figure out what to say when he got to her.

"She's not back yet."

The sentence caught him and he stopped and spun to see Muriel in her chair, watching him. Her eyes gleamed in sympathy and her smile was compassionate. Douglas felt his heart drop as the words sunk in. Evelyn wasn't here and he wasn't going to say goodbye, he was never going to see her again.

"Evelyn? Are you sure?" he asked hopeful, stealing a glance to Evelyn's apartment. Muriel nodded. Douglas felt lost for a moment – he couldn't leave without seeing her again. It wouldn't be right. Alas, she wasn't here and there was nothing he could do to change that.

"Well, then. Perhaps you could tell her that I said," Douglas paused. "…goodbye?"

And with that, he reluctantly stepped away, his fists clenching. But then he stopped again. What was he doing? He couldn't just leave Evelyn with a passed-on goodbye. It was insensitive and meaningless. No, he needed to say goodbye, in whatever way he could – even if that meant just a little note.

He could almost feel Muriel's eyes peering at him over her spectacles as he spun on his heel and started back to Evelyn's room. She might have said something, but he wasn't listening. All he was thinking about was Evelyn. He took the stairs two at a time and stepped into her room. Breathing a touch heavily from his exertion, he found a piece of paper and grabbed a pen lain disregarded on the desk. The pen hovered over the paper, then swirled majestically across it fashioning her name with its black ink. It loitered again.

He closed his eyes and sighed, then started a little at the mention of his name, the pen leaving a streak of black on the paper in its wake.

At the balcony door Evelyn was stood, her expression sorrowful, her stunningly blue eyes shimmering faintly. It crossed his mind that she had been here all along, but only briefly. He was more immediately bothered that she was here right at that moment. She gazed at him diffidently and Douglas looked at her, failing to resist a small delighted smile.

"Evelyn," he almost whispered. For a moment, neither of them said anything, they just beheld one another.

Neither of them wanted to say anything, because speaking would mean having to say goodbye and that was the last thing either of them wanted. In the end, Evelyn sparked the unsolicited.

"What are you doing here, Douglas?"

"Well, you didn't expect me to leave without seeing you again, did you?" he answered, the flicker of a sad smile on his lips. Silence again as she awaited that word, the word to set all this to an end. Douglas looked at the floor, thinking, but no words came to him – except that one, but he wasn't ready for it yet. He wasn't sure he'd ever be. Instead he hesitantly stepped toward her and Evelyn observed him equally as tentative, shocked but largely delighted by the unexpected change in proximity. Slowly and gently, as if awaiting endorsement, he raised his left hand and cupped her face, brushing her cheekbone tenderly with his thumb. He gave a faint smile of satisfaction as she leant into his palm, closing her eyes contentedly, her own hand grasping his and holding it there. Evelyn opened her eyes as she felt him close the gap and wrap his arms around her. Her arms gripped him back, almost possessively, and she buried her head into his shoulder. She felt the tears beginning to brim, but held them back. She didn't want this to be any worse than it had to be. She could cry about it later.

She thought about their first embrace just outside the hotel little more than a week ago. He had saved her from an oncoming motorist and she remembered the overwhelming feeling of warmth and security as he had pulled her tightly into his embrace, veering her out of harm's way. It was the moment she'd needed to realise how much she had come to care about Douglas, just as it had been for him. She wished this embrace shared the same ambience as it had that day – now it was emotional and almost anguishing knowing that it would never be again.

With that thought lingering on her mind she slipped from his arms, pushing him ever so gently away with her palms on his chest. Their hug had said enough, but both yearned for some verbal validation of their feelings; the room seemed so terribly silent without their words. But neither of them could bring themselves to say them – what good would it do them now anyway?

Evelyn cleared her throat, withdrawing from their closeness with a small step. She glanced at the ground before returning her line of sight to him.

"Jean will be waiting for you," she spoke meekly, her thumbs twiddling. Douglas nodded as if he'd completely forgotten his wife waiting for him to retrieve his wallet, but didn't move for a moment. When he did, he leant down and kissed her on the cheek. She blinked in surprise and with one final caress of her cheekbone, he turned and left.

Evelyn blinked and then her eyes widened as she felt his lips on her cheek. She hadn't been expecting it, but she welcomed it. But then his presence was gone as quickly as it had come. She so wanted to return it but her opportunity was dashed away and she simply had to look on longingly as he strode out of her room. Her vision blurred for a moment and she swept away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

How had she let herself be so foolish? Falling for a married man? Well then again, could it be termed a marriage if it had long since become so devoid of trust and love? A marriage of habit – that's all Douglas and Jean's relationship was now. Surely he could see it too, but he didn't do anything about it and that's what exasperated Evelyn most. He deserved so much better, she wanted him to leave Jean and for him to be happy – to see him have that same gleeful and almost youthful demeanour that she was always able to appreciate when he was in her company, whilst Jean's presence alone seemed to sap him of his cheerfulness.

Then again, she could understand his reasons for remaining with her – but that didn't mean she had to like it. Evelyn sighed dolefully. Disappointment, she concluded, was something you must always have to cope with. Her eyes wandered to the piece of paper that he had scrawled her name on and traced his rushed hand with a finger. It was at that moment she heard a shrill voice resonate from the courtyard.

He daren't look back, he had to keep moving. He reached the courtyard where Muriel was waiting, still peeking out over her glasses and feigning interest in her newspaper. She appeared somewhat irritated and when Douglas spotted Jean waiting for him, he could formulate a pretty good guess as to why. Jean had her arms crossed and her expression was unpleasantly sour. His smile as he approached was feeble and fell short of his eyes.

"Darling," he addressed her. "You'll never guess where I found it, had it with me the whole time."

He patted his jacket pocket as he neared, only noticing his suitcase placed behind her at the last moment. He looked at her confusedly, which she returned with a watery glare. "What's going on?"

"I know you came back to see her," Jean muttered, a slight dash of spite embittering her words. Douglas' head drooped. "I've told you before Douglas – it is a most ghastly embarrassment."

He glanced up at her, almost apologetically, but said nothing. Muriel bristled at Jean's disrespect as well as Douglas' compliance but was cut short in her retaliation by Jean speaking again before she could comment.

"I stand by what I said – she's a simpering, pitiful–" This time Jean was interrupted by an irked exhalation from Muriel and, thankfully, by Douglas.

"Don't," he interjected tensely. "Don't speak about her like that."

Jean barked a harsh laugh, but it was brittle. She hadn't come here to belittle anyone, but it seemed such a trait had emblazoned itself into her nature and she couldn't avoid it. She had become bitter and demeaning in her old age, but she'd still be the last person to admit it. Jean felt her husband was so unsuited to her now, their love had given out years ago. She was looking for something more, something worthy of herself.

She observed Douglas, noted his almost cowering stance, his dispirited eyes and the nervous jiggle of his fingers. This wasn't how things were meant to be – they were both meant to be happy, not these miserable shells of their former selves. And Jean would be a fool to not recognise that Douglas was at his happiest when he was with that Evelyn. Jean saw the way he looked at her, the way he positively lit up at her entering of a room, as cliché as it may seem. She couldn't disregard their attachment to one another either – when she'd caught them embracing on the day of Graham's funeral, all she had thought about was how, in comparison, Douglas could hardly touch Jean when she needed comforting. She wasn't jealous of Evelyn for gaining her husband's affections, it was more envy of their happiness and the fact that she was no longer the one providing Douglas with it. As Jean looked at Douglas with harsh but tearful eyes, she knew she was the only one who could finish this. Douglas was far too kind and loyal, it wasn't in his nature. But it was in hers.

"Douglas this trip, however ghastly, has enlightened me," she started. "It's given us the chance to see what needed to be done."

He was flummoxed by her sudden change of topic and the seriousness that now tinged her words. He shuffled about on his feet. Muriel looked on, as baffled as he, but hoping she was correct in thinking what Jean was about to do.

"It's over Douglas," Jean's voice cracked slightly. "It's been over for quite some time."

Douglas flinched, but didn't say anything.

"I have to go, Douglas. For the sake of both of us, don't follow me. You… we, both deserve more than this." She smiled weakly as she turned to go. "Goodbye."

With that, she was gone.

Evelyn heard those shrill tones and immediately distinguished them as Jean's. Curiosity got the better of her and she stepped toward her window so she could look down into the courtyard. Jean looked tearful but stern, and Douglas was there almost cowering in front of her. From her vantage point, Evelyn could just hear what was being said.

"I know you came back to see her. I've told you before – it's a most ghastly embarrassment."

Evelyn mouth turned down in disapproval. She'd never taken to Jean. She was too disrespectful, too rude to be likeable, but Evelyn had never let that dislike alter her own mannerly conduct. Right now, she just pleaded mentally with Douglas to stand up for himself. Instead, he glanced up at Jean contritely, and Evelyn loathed how Jean made him so uncomfortable and feel as if he were in the wrong.

"I stick by what I said - she's a simpering, pitiful-"

"Don't. Don't speak about her like that."

Evelyn took a sharp intake of breath, put a hand to her mouth and felt her heart possibly skip a beat. As useless as he was at defending himself, defending Evelyn seemed to be almost instinctual. And it only managed to deepen her feelings for him. Jean looked taken aback and perhaps a little riled by the nature of his interruption. Nevertheless, she seemed to promptly drop the subject and instead moved on to one that completely astonished Evelyn.

"Douglas this trip, however ghastly, has enlightened me. It's given us the chance to see what needed to be done."

Evelyn's face creased with a small frown.

"It's over Douglas."

Evelyn gasped as Jean said a few more words, then walked away leaving Douglas astounded in the courtyard, his suitcase at his feet. He stayed there for a moment. Evelyn wondered if he'd follow her, but when he didn't Evelyn couldn't suppress a small sigh of relief. She watched over him as he clenched and unclenched his hands, nodded to himself then turned and moved back into the hotel.

Douglas proceeded straight to his room, deposited his suitcase at the foot of his bed and stood. Jean had gone and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Of course he was happy; he was finally free of her domination and lack of compassion. Free from a relationship that was doing neither of them any good. And he was free to stay in India, a place he had been enchanted by in more ways than one. But there was also a small sense of loss and disarray – he had thought that separation wouldn't be of any use to anyone, they weren't young anymore and it would be all too much to bother with. Only since meeting Evelyn, had those notions begun to gradually evolve.

Evelyn. He could also stay with Evelyn, and that was what thrilled him the most. He wondered if she'd seen Jean leave.

Deciding he needed time to think, to collect himself, Douglas swept out of the hotel into the bustle of the dusty streets of Jaipur. The sun hung low in the sky and a haze dulled its brightness. The late afternoon was warm but not uncomfortably so. He grinned at some children playing a makeshift version of cricket and spared a few rupees for a homeless man huddled in the arch of an unused doorway.

Unlike his now-estranged wife, Douglas revelled in simply wandering the streets, watching life roll by, experiencing the sights, smells and commotion of another culture. As he passed into a calmer street, his thoughts again wandered back to Evelyn. He thought about how they could now freely explore their feelings for one another, without having to hold back because of his marriage. Evelyn's presence alone managed to light up his day even at the gloomiest of times, which had been a godsend on the days Jean had been especially degrading. He had undoubtedly fallen in love with the woman, which he considered almost unbelievable considering their time of life and the shortness of the time they had spent together, and yet he was as infatuated with her as a lovesick teenager.

Music tranquilly captured him from his reverie, and he sighted a band of four musicians sat outside of a restaurant. The music was soothing and their hollering voices complimented the fluidity of the melody. Douglas noted that the sounds were familiar and realised the musicians were the very same as the ones who had sung to both himself and Evelyn just a week or so ago.

He smiled fondly at the memory of her in his arms and the bashfulness that ensued. Then, despite Douglas' declination, the musicians had commenced their melody, interpreting his act of 'heroism' as an expression of love – well they weren't too far off, if Douglas was honest. They serenaded the couple and regardless of the slight awkwardness of the situation, both he and Evelyn had started chuckling. Only when her attention was focussed solely on the musicians, had Douglas stolen a glance. She had been smiling bashfully and her blue eyes glittered in the lamplight. She was beautiful.

His stroll came to a rest at a flower stall that was a torrent of colour. He spotted a bunch of flowers that were a stunning variety of blues and violets. He edged closer toward the stall, a smile lightening his features. The woman at the stall smiled toothily in welcome. Douglas pointed at the cluster of blue to her right.

"I'll have those please."

She nodded as he slipped out his wallet, fingering out the correct amount of change.

"For a special woman?" she queried with a knowing smile, as she traded her flowers for the proffered money in his hand. He simply nodded, and with a 'thank you' and a wave of his hand, he began the walk back to the hotel, the musicians still playing their sweet tunes.

Evelyn was worried about Douglas. After Jean had left, she'd spotted him leave the hotel again – without his luggage, so she could be assured he hadn't ran after her – but he hadn't returned for going on two hours. She was concerned that perhaps Jean leaving hadn't been what he'd wanted at all, concerned that maybe she'd misread his affection toward her and as a result was distancing himself. But of course she knew that train of thought was nonsense born from a sudden rush of nerves and no small amount of delight.

She just wanted to talk to him, to see if he was bearing up okay. Whilst Mrs Ainslie was an especially dislikeable individual, losing a partner on any level was difficult – she would know.

Not knowing how long she was going to have to wait for his return, she pulled her shawl over her shoulders and adjusted it as she deserted the confines of her room.

As she crossed into the hotels courtyard, that was now veiled in hazy shadow as the sun sunk lower in the sky, she spotted Muriel just finishing perusing her newspaper. Muriel looked up as she sensed Evelyn's approach, and smiled.

"I tried to stop him from coming to see you," Muriel started, but Evelyn stopped her.

"Oh, I know. I was watching. Thank you, Mrs Donnelly."

"Anyway, I guess it was all for the best in the end," Muriel added, receiving a questioning glance from Evelyn. "Come now, Mrs Greenslade, don't insult my intelligence. I didn't offer to stop him from seeing you for no reason!"

Muriel smiled kindly.

"You're both smitten, I was just waiting for you both to realise it."

Evelyn shuffled awkwardly on her feet as she twiddled her ring aimlessly about her index finger.

"But in the end, neither of you said anything – I was all but beginning to lose hope. Lucky we had Mrs. Ainslie – not a thing I'd imagine myself to say often – and as abhorrent as she may be, I can do nothing but commend her for what she did."

Evelyn inclined her head marginally as a sign of shy agreement. Over their time spent at the Marigold Hotel, Evelyn didn't recall speaking to Muriel often, if at all, and despite previous circulating gossip that Mrs Donnelly was a terrible racist – which Evelyn had a sneaking suspicion wasn't completely untrue – she seemed to have a pretty sharp head on her shoulders. She was obviously a somewhat perceptive individual if she'd managed to spot the affection between Douglas and Evelyn with so little mingling on her part.

"I don't suppose you know where he's gone?" Evelyn queried, with a motion to the hotel entrance.

"He'll have gone for a walk I suspect, clear his head," Muriel replied. "Don't you worry, he'll be back."

Evelyn felt like a nodding dog as once again she acknowledged Muriel with a bob of her head. Sensing the conversation had reached its end, Evelyn turned to walk away but not before Muriel said, "He cares about you a great deal, you know. Only a fool could fail to notice. And Norman owes me 2000 rupees."

Mrs. Greenslade's lips were tugged into a bashful and grateful smile as she began walking to the kitchens. There, she asked one of the waiters for a pot of tea to be taken to her in the garden. In the oasis of green, she seated herself in the suspended chair hanging under the cool shade of a tree. Above, the sky was burning orange and pink, gossamers of vapour sweeping and evanescing in the light breeze.

Evelyn loved India – it was a perfect infusion of calm and commotion, of colour and sound. She'd never expected to feel so at home here, and she knew her son certainly hadn't. She wanted him to see her now. See her with her job and control of her own life, to see her experiencing things she hadn't before, and done all on her own. She knew her son meant well, but he was so controlling at times – like his father, she supposed.

The arrival of the tea plucked her from her musings.

Douglas returned to the hotel in high spirits, sighing happily. A mild evening was drawing in and it was an especially glorious one. With the flowers in hand, he stepped into the courtyard. Muriel was just moving back into her room when she caught sight of him. She noted the bouquet of violet held in his hands and grinned.

"She's in the garden," was all she said. Douglas acknowledged her with a nod of his head and lopsided smile then moved through the courtyard and to the gardens. He spotted a waiter just ahead of him exiting the kitchens, a tray with a pot of tea in his hand, also proceeding in the same direction.

"Um, excuse me," Douglas called, resulting in the young waiter turning his head. He had a courteous smile. "I don't suppose you would be taking that tray to Mrs. Greenslade?"

"Why, yes sir," he replied chirpily.

"And I don't suppose you could grab another cup?" Douglas asked.

"Certainly, sir," he said with a grin as he scurried back into the kitchen. He reappeared with the requested teacup, as well as – Douglas didn't fail to note – a small sprig of flowers whose shades subtly echoed the ones in his hand, stood in a small, dainty vase. Douglas smirked to himself and motioned for the waiter to go ahead of him. Douglas trailed behind until they came to the garden, where he paused and dallied at the entrance, electing to linger until the waiter had finished serving Evelyn before making his presence known. He watched her as she smiled in thanks, only her eyes evincing her bemusement to the presence of both the additional cup and flowers.

The waiter departed and Douglas took the moment to saunter toward Evelyn, who was currently pouring herself her tea, the sunlight dappling her features through the glowing green leaves and branches of the tree. She glanced up as she heard his approach and Douglas caught a faint intake of breath as she realised who it was.

"Oh hello," she said with a demure smile.

"Hello," he returned, almost as shyly, motioning at the bench across from her. She replied zealously with her own gestures, urging him to take the seat. He took the seat, looking at her amorously all the while. He pointed at the second teacup which she was now pouring tea into.

"I took the liberty of requesting another cup. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," she grinned. "What about the flowers?"

"Ah, not my own efforts, I'm afraid," he chuckled, as he indicated to the vase mounted upon the tray. "These however…"

He offered Evelyn the bouquet, his heart a flutter with a sudden rush of nerves. Her hand shifted to her chest in surprise and her smile broadened, crinkling her features charmingly. She took them, held them to her nose and inhaled the fragrance of the flowers.

"Oh Douglas, they're lovely. Thank you."

She rose from her chair, placed the flowers delicately upon the table and moved to sit next to Douglas on the bench. He beamed at her and she couldn't resist pecking his cheek in thanks. They both chuckled lightly and dipped their heads in timidity and joy.

"I assume you know what happened with Jean," he started quietly.

"Yes," Evelyn answered. "Are you all right?"

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little dazed, but yes, I think I'll survive."

Evelyn appreciated his honesty. Douglas and Jean weren't meant for each other, but pretending he hadn't ever loved his wife would have been bad form. She didn't press the subject of his separation though – he could speak to her about it if and when he was ready to, just as long as he was okay.

"Sugar?" she asked with a smile, her eyes alight with fondness.

"One, please," he returned her grin.

They sipped their tea and made the most of the balmy evening with innocent conversation, albeit a little flirtatiously, avoiding the subject of Mrs. Ainslie and – for now – their feelings. It would seem inappropriate to broach that matter so soon after that day's proceedings.

Instead, Douglas nattered about his favourite places he'd visited in India, telling Evelyn he would take her to them sometime, as well as asking her how her job was going. They got to know each other a bit more, and not just about their time spent in India, but their past lives. Favourite foods, events, television shows – all the trivial little snippets of their lives weaving themselves into the chatter before flitting seamlessly into further details. They only paused for Evelyn to put her flowers in a jar of water as well as to organise their evening meal, dining in the garden.

Unheeded by the chatting couple, the expanse above them burnt from orange to rosy pink until the fiery tones had been eclipsed by the advancing inkiness of night. Stars glittered, the moon glowed radiantly, and candles that had been lit around them flickered, their light pirouetting with the shadows.

Madge was passing when she heard the murmurs of their conversation, glass of white wine in hand. She peeked through the archway and beheld their joyful manner. They were sat closely together, Evelyn's head propped up on her hand, gazing affectionately at the man in front of her – a look which Douglas reciprocated. Madge had already caught up with the Ainslie relationship gossip, courtesy of Muriel Donnelly – who, considerately, hadn't divulged too much, just enough for both herself and Norman to get to grips with the situation.

As Madge looked on – for the moment overlooking the nagging feeling that she was intruding – a smile tugged her lips upwards. She was extremely happy for them both – which was a lot more than she could say for her love life. Now being – well, she liked to think so – a good friend of Evelyn's, Madge knew that she deserved it. And if Madge's perceptions of his marriage were anything to go by, so did Douglas. Simply the way they beheld one another charmed her heart. It was so innocent, so fresh, so amorous. It was everything she wished she could find too.

Evelyn chuckled wholeheartedly at some kind of joke Douglas had made and Madge smiled.

"I always thought it rude to eavesdrop," Norman said with a teasing smile as he approached, startling Madge and causing a splash of wine to slosh out of her glass. She gave him a playful tut.

"Shush, they'll hear you," she nodded to the chattering twosome, as Norman stood beside her and looked in the direction of Douglas and Evelyn.

"Nonsense, they're too lost in each other's eyes– ouch!" Norman replied in a sarcastic but light-hearted fashion before receiving a light tap from his friend. A comfortable silence descended before Norman asked, "I just came to see where you were – thought you might like to join me and Carol for some drinks."

At first she wanted to say yes, but with a glance at Douglas and Evelyn she decided not. It seemed to her that everyone aside from herself was getting partners – one of her main incentives for taking the trip! – and yet she hadn't. She wasn't bitter; on the contrary, she was most thrilled for her friends and their new relationships, but at that moment in time she'd suddenly become less inclined to spend time with couples, couples who would inadvertently make a point of her partnerless state. And anyway, she didn't want to be a hindrance to Norman and Carol's passion as it were, and on such a celebratory evening too.

"You know what, I think I'll leave you two to it," she said with a wink. Norman nodded and chuckled, then stepped away with a raise of his glass. She watched him as he walked away, took one final glance to the cheerful couple in the garden then retired to her room.

It was only when Douglas caught the flicker of a shiver run through Evelyn's body did he realise how late it had become, and alerted him as to how the balmy evening had turned into a refreshingly cool one. Douglas shrugged out of his jacket and stood to drape it over Evelyn's shoulders. She smiled her gratitude. A glance at his watch revealed it to be just about midnight.

"Gosh, would you look at the time," he said disbelievingly. It seemed time certainly did fly by when one was having fun, and he certainly had been. He could have stayed up all night listening to her voice, relishing in her company, but he knew she had her job to see to in the morning and the air was becoming increasingly cool. He held up his arm to escort her back to her room and with a delighted grin she nestled her own into the crook of his proffered arm, making sure to retrieve the bouquet of blue as she did so. They then moseyed through and out of the garden into the courtyard. Nobody else was about.

"When do you finish tomorrow?" Douglas raised the question.

"I get back about five," Evelyn replied with a curious glance.

"Teatime," he murmured, almost to himself as if he were mentally noting it down. "How do you take it?"

"With a little milk," Evelyn smiled.

They arrived at her room and both reluctantly released each other from their linked arms. For a moment they observed one another in silence before Evelyn muttered an 'oh' as she realised his jacket was still wrapped about her shoulders. She pulled it from her and passed it to him with a 'thank you'.

"I had a wonderful evening," Douglas said in hushed tones.

"As did I," Evelyn replied tenderly, grinning broadly.

"Thank you," he said. He wasn't just thanking her for a lovely evening, but also for taking his mind off Jean and not overstepping the boundaries just yet – not that he ever expected her to anyway. "I'll see you tomorrow then. At five-ish. With tea."

"I'll look forward to it," she said, and she really meant it. "Goodnight, Douglas."

He adored the way she said his name, with such care and fondness – so dissimilar to what he'd had throughout his life and it warmed his heart.

"Goodnight, Evelyn."

She loved how he spoke her name so softly, adoringly almost. He managed to sound more affectionate and loving than Hugh ever seemed to achieve.

With a small, shy smile from both of them they parted, Evelyn to her room and Douglas to his. His room seemed almost dissimilar now that he was the only one staying in it. Not lonely, not empty, just different. In fact it seemed a whole lot less constricting. With a contented sigh, Douglas took a seat at the end of his bed and reflected on the evening and could not restrain the grin that lit up his features. He knew now that he irrefutably loved Evelyn with all of his heart, even despite they're short time together and more so than he ever had Jean. At their time of life, depressing as it may sound, affairs couldn't afford to be handled slowly and apparently falling in love was no exception. Whenever he saw her he could feel his heart swell, could never manage to resist his lips raising in a loving smile, and suddenly all he wanted was to give her all the love and caring she deserved.

And now he could start.