<h4>Chapter 241: Drifting Mind</h4>


    Cammy took a slow breath, willing the heaviness in her chest to settle. "Come on," she said quietly, turning to Richard and Ric. "Let me show you the apartment."


    They followed her, the soft thud of their footsteps against cement floors echoing like a heartbeat in the stillness of the new building. Cammy’s hand trembled slightly as she slid the key into the lock, turning it with a click. She pushed the door open.


    And froze.


    The sunlight spilled into the room, revealing soft cream couches that looked like they belonged in the pages of a design magazine, warm wooden floors adorned with textured rugs, sleek furniture, and delicate lighting that made the entire space glow with quiet elegance.


    Her gaze swept over the walls—paintings in muted tones, fresh flowers in ss vases, a soft throw folded neatly over the arm of a chair. Everything was chosen with care. Tasteful. Thoughtful.


    Ready to live in.


    But she hadn’t even moved in yet.


    "W-What’s goin’..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, her body frozen at the threshold.


    Her lips parted, breath catching somewhere between disbelief and confusion. Slowly, her eyes turned toward Ric, who leaned casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed, and just shrugged at her,pletely clueless.


    Her brows furrowed, and before she could press, Richard stepped forward, his presence filling the room in a quieter, gentler way than she was used to. He moved like someone walking into something sacred, like he didn’t want to disturb the air around her.


    "I know you wouldn’t let me give you a house," he said calmly. "So I gave you a home."


    Cammy’s eyes locked on his, and the air between them thickened with something deeper than gratitude—something tender and raw and unspoken.


    "I didn’t want you to move into an empty space, surrounded by boxes and silence," Richard continued, his voice softening. "You deserve to walk into warmth. Into beauty. Into something that’s already waiting for you."


    "I didn’t ask for this," she said, her throat tightening, though her voicecked any real protest. It was fragile, her disbelief still coloring every word.


    "No," Richard replied. "But I think, deep down, a part of you wanted to feel—what it’s like to be taken care of. Even if just once."


    She blinked rapidly, overwhelmed by the details—the throw pillows in colors she loved, the coffee table books that mirrored her interests, the kitchen stocked with her favorite teas. Everything was hers, yet she hadn’t done a single thing.


    Richard saw her scanning the whole ce, so he said, "Greg told me what you liked, so I bought them. You have such a reliable big brother..."


    The word ’big brother’ echoed in her mind. ’Right, he is my brother...’ she reminded herself.


    Her chest rose and fell with the effort to hold herself together.


    "I don’t know what to say," she murmured.


    "You don’t have to say anything right now," Richard said gently. "Just... allow yourself to enjoy it. That’s all I want."


    She swallowed hard and turned to Ric again, needing an anchor in that moment.


    "Mommy, this is so pretty!" Dn’s voice came from the entryway, breaking the spell as he and his nanny entered. Dn dashed into the living room, jumping on the couch and giggling, while the nanny froze, her jaw ck in stunned amazement.


    Richard offered to keep Dnpany in his bedroom while Cammy, Ric, and the nanny unpacked their stuff.


    As thest box was tucked into a corner and Dn curled on the couch with a coloring book Ric had quietly pulled from a shelf, Richard checked his watch.


    "I should get going," he said, adjusting the cuff of his suit.


    Cammy looked up from where she was straightening a stack of tes in the kitchen. "You don’t have to leave just yet," she said softly.


    "There’s not much left to unpack anyway... and we’ll all be eating downstairs soon. Stay. I will introduce you to ourndlords."


    Richard paused, surprised—but not displeased. His gaze softened, and he nodded. "Alright then. I’d like that."


    They settled into the dining area as Cammy offered them some tea, the three of them—Cammy, Ric, and Richard—surrounded by the faint scent of fresh wood and new beginnings. For a moment, there was only the hum of the city through the open windows, the gentle scratch of Dn’s crayons, the calm after the chaos of moving.


    Then Richard leaned forward, resting his elbows lightly on the table as soon as Dn transferred to his room. "So," he began with a deliberate ease, "have you and Ric talked about the wedding?"


    Cammy blinked, her fingers tightening around the warm mug of tea in her hands. Ric, across from her, nced away discreetly, giving her space to answer.


    She took a breath, steadying herself. "We haven’t talked about anything specific yet," she admitted. "But if we do it... I don’t want anything extravagant. Just something small. Intimate. Family and friends. That’s all I need."


    "I would love that too. I don’t want to attract too much attention. I want to keep our lives private as much as possible. Away from the public eye from my job," Ric said.


    Richard nodded, a spark of something fond lighting in his expression. "I get that. I know a few ces that might be perfect then. Quiet vineyards just outside the city, or there’s this secluded garden up north, hidden behind an old monastery... the kind of ce where the silence feels like a blessing."


    He leaned in, animated now, talking about wildflower fields and rustic chapels, his voice rich with visions he was already imagining for her. But his words started to blur around the edges, fading into the background.


    Because Cammy’s mind was drifting.


    She didn’t mean to. But the moment Richard said "secluded," the memory unspooled inside her like a ribbon.


    A beach.


    Golden sand, warm beneath bare feet.


    The waves whisper secrets against the shore.


    White linen swaying in the sea breeze, the scent of salt and orchids wrapping around her like a dream.


    And Greg.


    Standing there—barefoot, tanned, a crown of sunlight tangled in his curls. That raw, unguarded smile. The way his eyes locked onto hers was like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth. His vows, whispered against her ear, were trembling with emotion. Her name on his lips, like a promise and a prayer.


    Her throat tightened.


    That wedding was nothing but a ghost now. No rings. No documents. Just two hearts foolishly thinking love was enough to rewrite fate.


    "Cammy?" Richard’s voice gently pulled her back.


    She blinked, the ache still wrapped around her chest, and forced a small smile. "Sorry. I was just thinking about something."


    "Something happy, I hope?" Richard asked kindly.


    She nodded. Lied. "Yeah. Just... picturing the kind of ce you mentioned."


    Ric’s gaze lingered on her a beat longer than necessary. He saw it, she knew. He always did.


    But he said nothing.


    At least not for now.