We had met while she was coordinating charitable events connected to my family’s foundation.
What first attracted me to Evelyn was her complete lack of interest in my family name.
She never tried to impress me.
If she disagreed with something I said, she told me.
If one of my family’s formal traditions seemed unnecessary to her, she was comfortable saying so.
Her honesty made being around her feel easy.
My mother had always been more cautious about the relationship.
She was never openly unkind to Evelyn. Instead, she expressed her concerns in carefully chosen comments.
One evening, she told me, “Enjoying someone’s company and building an entire life together are very different decisions.”
I answered that Evelyn was the first person with whom I could genuinely imagine having a family.
A few months later, I had to leave for several weeks to oversee the opening of another hotel.
When I returned, Evelyn was gone.
Her apartment had been emptied.
My attempts to reach her went nowhere, and I never managed to speak with her directly.
Eventually, my mother told me that Evelyn had decided to end our relationship and wanted distance.
At first, I refused to accept it.
I searched for answers.
Then disappointment took over.
Pride followed.
Eventually, I stopped trying.
I buried myself in work instead.
