Randall's Appearance

The moonlight cast a pale glow through the large windows of Yvette's penthouse office. The city lights below flickered like tiny fireflies, but inside, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. Yvette sat alone at her desk, her fingers tapping restlessly on the polished wood. The papers before her were untouched. Her mind was elsewhere — on Owen, on the divorce, and most of all, on the man he had become.

Yvette (to herself): "What happened to him? The man I knew... he was desperate for my love, for my attention. But now..."

Her eyes narrowed, as if trying to find clarity in the mess of her emotions. The more she thought about it, the more it confused her. She had witnessed Owen transform before her eyes — from a man who once begged for her affection to a cold, stoic figure who now meditated through storms, who had gone to the Himalayas to train. The changes seemed to have happened so suddenly, yet she couldn't pinpoint exactly when it all shifted.

Her mind flashed back to the early days of their marriage. The desperation in Owen's eyes when he first asked for her love, the times he struggled to gain her attention, to make her see him as something more than a possession, an accessory to her wealth and power. She had seen him as weak then, unable to stand on his own. But now, the very thing she had wanted — distance, freedom — was here, and it terrified her.

Yvette (muttering to herself): "He used to need me. He would have done anything to stay with me. But now... he doesn't need me at all."

She thought about their final confrontation, how Owen had spoken of his journey, of his path. His calm, unwavering expression — it wasn't the man she had once known. That man had been full of insecurities, of doubts, desperate to prove his worth to her. This version of Owen was something entirely different.

Yvette (frustrated): "What path did he choose? What did he see in the mountains? And why didn't he ever tell me?"

A pang of guilt, something she hadn't felt in years, stirred inside her. Despite everything — despite the hurt, the anger, and the years of neglect — she couldn't shake the feeling that she had lost something important, something valuable. She had been so consumed by her own world, her own needs, her own ambitions, that she had failed to see the change happening in Owen. She had pushed him away, but it seemed now that it was her who had been left behind.

The thought of Owen, deep in meditation in the cold, isolated mountains, made her shiver. He had given up everything for this. His family, his comforts, his life as she had known it. But why? What was he searching for?

Yvette (whispering to herself): "Was it me? Did he do this because of me? Because I couldn't give him the love he wanted? Or... was it something else?"

She closed her eyes and tried to quiet the whirlwind of thoughts. In the silence, she heard only the faint sound of her breath, as if the world around her had fallen away. She realized, deep down, she didn't know who Owen was anymore. And that realization was more unsettling than anything else.

Yvette (to herself, softly): "I need to know. I need to understand... before it's too late."

She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping against the floor. She paced back and forth, her mind racing. The words of the monk — the one who had trained Owen — echoed in her mind. "The man you knew is gone, and the man who stands before you is not the same."

She knew she had to find out what had happened to him, what he had become. She couldn't let him slip away into the unknown. But more than that, she needed to face the reality of what had happened between them — to understand if there was still a chance to fix what they had once had, or if it was already too late.

Yvette (determined): "I will find him. I will find out what he's become... and what I've lost."

Yvette was lost in thought, staring out the window at the skyline. The city lights flickered, but her mind was elsewhere—on Owen, his transformation, and the unsettling emptiness she felt in his absence.

Suddenly, a knock on the door broke the silence. Her assistant, Willow, stepped in with a cautious expression.

Willow (softly): "Madam, I have an update."

Yvette turned slowly, her sharp gaze locking onto Willow.

Yvette (impatiently): "What is it?"

Willow (hesitant): "Mr. Randall is in town. He arrived earlier today. Do you want to visit him?"

For a moment, Yvette didn't react. Randall—the man she had always considered her true match, the one she had convinced herself was the only person worthy of her. The reason she had never given Owen her heart. He was back.

And yet…

The news didn't stir the excitement she expected. There was no rush of emotions, no eager anticipation. Instead, her thoughts remained tangled around Owen—his piercing calm, his distant gaze, the way he had walked away from her with such certainty.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to refocus. Randall. He was the one she had always wanted, right?

Yvette (curtly): "Where is he staying?"

Willow: "At the Imperial Grand Hotel. He hasn't made any public appearances yet."

Yvette nodded, but her fingers unconsciously tightened around the pen in her hand. There was something different about this moment. Normally, she would have dropped everything to see Randall. But now?

She realized, with a deep sense of unease, that for the first time… she wasn't sure if she wanted to see him at all.