CHAPTER 237: JUST ONE QUIET NIGHT...?

The air outside was cooler than expected, the city lights casting fractured reflections on the car windows as Logan drove them to a quiet restaurant tucked away from the main road. None of them really spoke on the way; the silence wasn’t heavy, but thoughtful... like each word was being weighed before it left their lips.

Inside, the restaurant was warmly lit, with the soft hum of low conversation and clinking cutlery. Logan asked for a private corner booth, wanting to give them at least the illusion of peace, even if their minds were anything but.

They settled in.

Hannah slid into her seat with a sigh, the leather squeaking faintly beneath her, while Jean sat beside Logan, her phone placed on the table between them like an unspoken promise she wouldn’t look... unless it lit up.

Logan ordered food for them, the waiter scribbling quickly before leaving them alone again. For a few moments, it felt almost normal... like three colleagues grabbing a late dinner after work.

But Logan couldn’t stop watching Jean. Her shoulders were tense, her posture rigid. When the food arrived, she barely touched the fork; instead, her fingers hovered just above her phone screen, as if expecting it to vibrate, to deliver an answer, a lead, anything.

He kept his tone low so Hannah wouldn’t hear fully, gently teasing but also coaxing:

"The pasta won’t eat itself, Jean."

She startled, blinking as if yanked out of a trance, and gave him a strained smile.

"I’m not hungry," She murmured, her gaze flickering back to the phone.

Logan’s brow furrowed. His voice softened.

"You need to keep your strength up. Emma would want that too, you know."

Jean’s jaw worked silently. For a moment it seemed like she might argue, but then she lowered her gaze, her hand still hovering protectively over her phone.

"I just... can’t stop thinking what she must be feeling right now," She whispered. "Waking up in a strange place... after so long..."

Logan reached across the table, covering her hand with his warm, steady palm.

"We’ll find her, Jean. And until then, you don’t get to fall apart. That’s my rule," He added with a small, crooked grin, trying to tease a real smile from her.

Hannah spoke up, her voice gentle yet nudging. "He’s right, you know. We’ll need your brain tomorrow too, so please... try."

Jean finally picked up her fork, pushing some pasta around, her appetite still nowhere in sight. Logan kept his hand close, thumb brushing her knuckles absentmindedly... grounding her, reminding her that she wasn’t carrying this alone.

And though Jean barely ate more than a few bites, she did take them... if only because she felt both their eyes on her, silently asking her to.

All the while, her phone stayed dark. Waiting.

Jean’s fork clinked softly against the plate. She’d barely touched her food... every so often she would lift a bite, only to set it back down untouched. After a while, she pushed her chair back, her voice barely above a whisper:

"I’ll be right back. Just... the bathroom."

Logan nodded, silently watching as she walked away. Her shoulders looked weighed down by the entire world; the subtle slump he’d grown to recognize in moments when her walls slipped, even just a fraction.

As soon as she disappeared past the corner, Logan drew in a slow, weary breath. His elbows rested on the table, palms clasped together just beneath his mouth.

His gaze drifted across the warm restaurant... families talking, couples laughing, people drinking wine without a single care about kidnappings or scandals.

And then there was Jean.

Jean, whose photo with Tyler Dominic had turned into clickbait across the entire country overnight. Jean, who now faced the horror of Emma’s sudden disappearance.

Jean, who kept going, shoulders squared, when most people would have fallen apart.

Logan’s chest tightened painfully. Just when would life stop testing her? He ran a hand across his jaw, exhaling hard through his nose.

Across the table, Hannah had gone quiet too. She stirred her drink with her straw, eyes flicking to the empty space Jean had left. Finally, Logan spoke, his voice low:

"Hannah... could you go check on her?"

Hannah glanced up, surprised. "You don’t think..."

"No," Logan interrupted softly, shaking his head. "But... she shouldn’t be alone right now. Not tonight. I’m worried what might go through her head when she’s by herself. Just... see if she’s okay."

Hannah didn’t argue. She pushed her chair back gently, the legs scraping against the tiled floor.

"Alright. I’ll go."

Logan watched her go, leaning back in his seat, staring at the empty spot where Jean had sat. A part of him itched to follow himself, but he knew Jean might not want to see him right now... not when everything felt so raw.

His thumb tapped restlessly on the tabletop. Just hours ago, Jean had stood next to him, fighting so hard not to let the cracks show. And now, she was probably standing in front of a mirror, hiding those same cracks from herself.

Please, just let her have one quiet night.

Logan’s phone screen lit up briefly, but it was only a calendar notification. He dismissed it quickly, his eyes still locked on the corridor to the restrooms.

All around him, plates clattered, silverware chimed, laughter floated through the air... the world continued, oblivious to their silent storm.

A minute later, Hannah’s silhouette reappeared by the bathroom entrance, peeking in carefully before stepping inside.

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

At least she’s not alone now.

Still, his heart kept pounding... heavy, protective, frustrated that no matter how much he did, some battles Jean would always fight within herself.

Hannah pushed open the door to the hallway leading to the powder room. Just before stepping inside, she stopped short. Two well dressed women had just stepped out, their voices lowered but still sharp enough to cut through the soft music of the restaurant.

"Isn’t she married to Logan Kingsley now? How could she cheat on him?"