When Simon Howe returned home, I sat there, holding the diary, feeling lost and helpless.

"Dear?" His clear, cool voice came from the hallway.

He called my name several times, but got no response.

So he began to search room by room.

Just as he was about to reach the study, I snapped out of it, quickly shoved the diary into the drawer, and wiped away my tears.

The door opened, and Simon Howe and I locked eyes.

He noticed my red eyes, paused for a moment, and instinctively pulled me into his arms. His soft hair brushed lightly against my cheek.

His voice was deep and full of concern....