Page 19 of Entwined with My Best Friend's Brother

Surprised and amused, she nods, "Of course."

"How did he die?"

Her sudden quiet demeanor makes me almost take my words back when she starts talking as if it is someone else's story, "He was a history professor at Chicago University. The day it happened, I was out with Cale and some friends. I didn't even know something had happened until much later that night when I realized he wasn't home yet. I called him, but he didn't pick up. I called his office but kept waiting for Someone to pick me up. Finally, I called the university, and again, I was waiting for Someone to respond.

So, I never called him again that evening, thinking he would call me eventually. After all, this had happened many times. He was in charge of many societies and club activities since he was close to his students and the faculty. Everybody knew him and liked him. He was earnest about his responsibility to his students. And even today, I think maybe that's what killed him.

It was only when I turned on the television for the latest updates in the news that I found out – that Chicago University had been raided by a hostile party, many students and staff injured, and several dead. Even then, I held out hope that maybe he was alive. Still, when the coroner's office called me for identification, I didn't want to believe my eyes. Still, denying something is more complicated when it's right before you.

It had been days, and a hundred other relatives of the victims and I were waiting for some arrests, news, or anything, but the media had quieted down suddenly. No one was talking about it after a few months. A lot of us still have yet to find out what happened. But what could we have done? We were merely a group of powerless relatives who belonged to the middle-class society in Chicago. And I still had Cale's future to think about. So, there you have it. I don't exactly know how he died."

Just as soon as she's answered my question like she is telling a story, she returns to whatever work she was onto before. She is pretending to be okay when she is not. But humans tend to choose this method of adapting when they lose Someone important. And I am no exception, but I could never have thought her husband had died in such a situation. And she insinuated that the higher class of society was involved somehow. Still, she clearly shut up before saying anything more.

I don't know how to continue from here when I realize something, "What was your husband's name?"

Her eyes pause on her screen, her expression indifferent, "Why do you ask?"

I stare at her, "You didn't tell me."

She sharply glares, "Why?"

I stare at her calmly, "You're still struggling with letting it go, right?"

And I can see her expression break. I don't want to be the one to say this to her, but sometimes, it is better to say something than let them suffer endlessly.

I can almost see the tears overflowing when she furiously blinks them back and glares at me, "Who are you to ask me that? You have no close relation to me or anyone in my family, and I would like it if you kept your distance. Thank you."

Her laptop closes, and she is about to get up when I can't help holding her back.

She pulls her arm away, her teeth clenched. "Let go of me," when I can't help but share, "I also lost someone."

That makes her stop as she stares back at me, confused.

I let go of her wrist and instead held her hand, "He was like a parent to Gwen and me. He died about a couple of years ago as well. Because of him, I opened up the Hale Security firm. Hale isn't our last name, but his."

She stares at me apologetically, comfortably rubbing her finger in circles on the back of my palm, "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know."

I look back at her, confused because Gwen seemed to share everything with Jen, but this was weird, "Gwen didn't tell you?"

She shakes her head in the negative, "It is weird that Gwen didn't tell me. But it's fine, you know. We don't share everything with each other after all."

Seeing her downhearted expression, I can't help asking, "But you seem hurt."

She sighs, looking at me, "Why wouldn't I be? She doesn't have to share everything, but this is something that I should know, you know?"

I nod, understanding, "I know."

She smiles, making me reciprocate, "Shouldn't you let my hand go now?"

I act as if deeply contemplating and shake my head, "I don't know why I would do that."

This leads to another back and forth when Gwen clears her throat from behind us, "Well. Well. Well. It's like other people don't even exist."

Jen and I turn to find Gwen in a Bugs Bunny costume, "Why are you dressed like that?" I question.

Jen answers fondly, looking at me, "She likes to dress up like that because Cale likes it."

I am amazed. Gwen has never in her life dressed up like that. Maybe my feelings become apparent, so Jen continues, "Gwen is Cale's Godparent."

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