WHEN THE FOG CLEARS

Before leaving London, I went to visit Julian’s mother—that formidable, iron-willed matriarch.

Back then, she truly detested me, refusing even to grant me a single glance.

Julian insisted on marrying me anyway, almost completely severing ties with his family.

Later on, as situations shifted, she occasionally invited Julian to bring me over for a family dinner.

It wasn’t until our third year together that I learned how much effort Julian had secretly poured into repairing my relationship with his mother behind my back.

He would regularly ask his grandmother—who had raised him through thick and thin—to put in a good word for us, reminding his mother how difficult their early days in the capital were, and how the kind-hearted girl from the small neighborhood had helped them through dark times.

He also carefully studied his mother’s preferences, secretly doing filial deeds under my name and highlighting my achievements.

He told her that I graduated top of my class from a top university, and that even before graduation, I was capable of managing a company of over a dozen people—displaying her own youthful flair.

He boasted that the year I graduated, I turned down elite overseas scholarships to follow him back to the family business alone, proving my immense loyalty.

I never wanted to make things hard for him. Realizing I lacked the prestigious family background the family desired, I could only drive myself mercilessly to grow up faster.

She didn’t lack jesters or clowns; I had no need to play those roles. My goal was to stand tall as a proper daughter-in-law of the family.

And so, over the years, even though she always wore a cold face and never explicitly validated me, she meticulously taught me everything behind closed doors.

From fashion taste and conversational art to handling social etiquette, I followed her footsteps closely, gradually evolving into the independent, capable Evelyn of today.

She never formally accepted me, but she never denied my identity either.

This woman, back when Julian was seven, had resolutely cut ties and sent him away to protect his life, spending decades fighting off fierce rivals before finally establishing her domain and welcoming her only son back.

The room was brightly lit, the carpets spotless. Julian’s mother, Elena, held three incense sticks, raising them to her forehead in pious reverence before the altar.

Turning around, time had left virtually no marks on her face, save for a gaze that had seen through all the chaos of the world: “You were foolishly stubborn. If you had just been willing, as long as I draw breath, no one could ever touch the position of Mrs. Vance.”

I smiled: “Madame, my heart is too small; I can’t stomach this much bitterness.”

I had once tried to convince myself to endure being Mrs. Vance for the rest of my life, laughing at the mad dogs from afar—until I accidentally caught sight of a photograph.

Back in the capital when the ginkgo leaves fell all over the ground, in that photo, Julian and I had someone else standing between us, seemingly worlds apart.

Yet I remembered how secretly we used to hold hands, smiling as if we possessed all the treasures of the world.

Only then did I realize: I couldn’t do it.

She recalled the past with a faint sigh: “Julian is just like his father; I never really liked him. But he’s my son, and I can’t bring myself to condemn him.”

“He told me that when he was fifteen in the capital, unable to afford medical fees, he begged countless people until you used your saved-up New Year’s money to help him through the crisis.”

“The day you told me you were divorcing him, I remembered the year he brought you home to London.”

“He knelt and begged me to let him marry you. When I refused, he knelt for a full day and night. When I still refused, he cut ties with the family, swearing to build an empire from scratch just to be with you.”

“The day I asked him if he remembered you kneeling right here in this room, he didn’t dare answer a single word.”

I maintained a silent, faint smile.

Who would have thought that after crossing the highest threshold of class, even with his mother slowly warming up to me, just as we thought a smooth highway lay ahead, we would end up losing each other?

I stood up to hug her, kissed her cheek, and bid her farewell.

She smiled faintly, looking past me toward a distant horizon: “As Julian’s mother, I think you’re being irrational. But as a woman, I deeply admire you, and I have nothing but encouragement.”

She patted my hand: “Evelyn, your life is starting anew. Madame wishes you a boundless and prosperous future.”

The next day, local media tabloids published screaming front-page headlines:

【High Society Power Couple Goes Separate Ways: Celebrity Anchorwoman Scoops Up the Prize?】

That very evening, my driver, old Mr. Smith, escorted a heavily intoxicated Julian to my doorstep.

He looked at me awkwardly. In my memories, given Julian’s status and pride, he hadn’t gotten this drunk in ages.

A moment later, hurried footsteps approached.

Celeste shrieked furiously: “How do you drive?! Who talented you to bring him here?!”

Old Mr. Smith defended himself: “It wasn’t me, it was Mr. Julian. Whenever he gets drunk, he looks for his wife—it’s been like this for years—”

At that moment, Julian mumbled drowsily: “Evelyn… I want water…”

Celeste’s face contorted with rage as she shoved old Mr. Smith aside, struggling to prop Julian up.

Looking back, she puffed out her chest: “You and Julian are already divorced! From now on, stay away from us!”

I looked at her coldly: “Do you even need to check who is bothering whom?”

Celeste’s expression flickered: “There won’t be a next time! Don’t flatter yourself thinking he still has feelings for you, men drinking are just out of their minds—”

I directly slammed the door shut, cutting off Celeste’s screeching voice outside.

Looking down at my phone messages, from morning till now I had replied to countless texts.

Only one remained unanswered, because I hadn’t figured out how to reply yet.

【When are you coming back to the capital? I’ll come pick you up.】

When it came to timing and fate, Liam and I had known each other even earlier, though he had disappeared for a period due to unknown reasons.

It wasn’t until our paths crossed again later that Liam and I grew close.

Over the years, he sent holiday blessings every single festival without fail, never adding unnecessary words.

Today’s message was the very first non-holiday-related text he had ever sent me in all these years.

Ever since my mother passed away in London when I was twenty-five, I had sent her ashes back to her hometown, only returning once a year to sweep her grave.

My circle of old friends in the capital who maintained long-term contact was tiny, and Liam was one of them.

Replying to his text casually, I continued packing my bags to return home.

Julian only found out about my return to the capital a week later.

He was utterly convinced that with all my real estate and assets tied up in London, I had deeply rooted myself there and could never just pick up and leave.

Little did he know, back then I had managed to move across continents all alone; what stopped me from doing it now?

Hearing the news, Julian’s expression was calm: “Ask her when she’s coming back to HK.”