Chapter 92: Do You Have a Cigarette?

The doubt in Kelvin's eyes angered the shop owner. Germans, he believed, valued honesty above all else and would never deceive a customer. He'd been in the business for over fifty years and had never encountered such a situation. To prove his honesty, the shop owner said, "Sir, this pen holds a secret. Soak it in hot water, and you'll see."

A glass tube was embedded inside, containing a charming drawing of Kelvin by Cheyenne. The pen's exterior was coated with a special black material that appeared ordinary but faded when exposed to hot water.

A female employee quickly brought a cup of water. The shop owner dipped the pen cap, then removed it. A small drawing appeared—Kelvin's image: a cool, aloof figure with a large round head, wearing a black suit and keeping his hands in his pockets. He then submerged the entire pen. Cheyenne's drawing emerged: a girl with long flowing hair cascading down her shoulders, lying on a desk in a white school uniform, an orange cat beside her. Both gazed out a window at a young man in a white shirt standing beneath a cherry blossom tree, the wind ruffling his clothes. Cherry blossoms fell, creating a fairytale scene. Next to the young man was an inscription: "He's like winter, but I'm summer. Let the autumn leaves bring my blessings to him."

Five years earlier, this design had won numerous international awards. He owed it all to Miss Lawrence and had cherished the pen ever since. He'd wanted to buy it then, but Miss Lawrence said it was a birthday gift.

The pen was Cheyenne's creation. Why hadn't she given it to him personally? Suddenly, Kelvin remembered his 22nd birthday and college graduation. Abbie had shyly handed him the pen, saying, "Kelvin, this is my handmade pen for you. Happy Birthday!" The applause and teasing glances from his peers flooded back. He'd been so touched by her thoughtfulness, especially considering her health.

Then, Cheyenne appeared, shouting, "She's lying! I made that pen!"

Sixteen-year-old Cheyenne had always been rebellious—skipping school, fighting, even going clubbing. Kelvin remembered that night, seeing tears stream down her face. The wronged girl's red eyes made her look like a cute rabbit, but she quickly transformed into a tigress. She grabbed Abbie's hand and slapped her. In front of family and friends, she unleashed a torrent of insults. "You thief! I was blind to trust you! This pen clearly…"

Abbie fell to the ground, clutching her chest, gasping for breath. Her heart condition had relapsed.

What about him? He'd believed Cheyenne was jealous and couldn't tolerate Abbie, so he'd defended Abbie. "Cheyenne, have you caused enough trouble? You came here empty-handed and claimed the pen was yours!"

He'd never seen Cheyenne so hurt. Her usually bright eyes were dull. A faint smile touched her pale face. "I understand. No matter what I do, I can't compare to Abbie in your heart."

"You're not even worthy to be compared to Abbie. She's gentle and kind, while you're arrogant and domineering, with no skills or knowledge!"

"Cheyenne, if you dare hurt her again, I promise you'll regret it!"

He watched her walk away alone, her black dress blending with the night. Her white back seemed to glow against the dark silhouette.

He'd used the pen for five years without discovering its secret. He'd wrongly accused Cheyenne. Now, the truth was a painful revelation. The kind, gentle Abbie was the deceiver, while the scorned Cheyenne was sincere.

Kelvin stared at the pen in the water, unsure what to do. Repair it? Replace it?

The shopkeeper returned the pen to its display case. "Sir," he said, "this pen wasn't easy to make. Miss Lawrence worked on it for over a month, here in my shop. Every day, she pounded iron and ground glass. Once, she cut herself badly but refused a break. The cherry blossom color is made from her blood. Miss Lawrence was one of the most determined and sincere young women I've ever known."

No wonder her hands were often bandaged. Kelvin had assumed Cheyenne was in another fight. His disgust for Cheyenne deepened. How could such an immature girl become his wife?

After a moment, Kelvin asked, "Can this pen be repaired?"

The shop owner hesitated. "The tip is made of a special metal, making it very smooth and durable. But I haven't made pens in a long time, and I don't have that material."

It would be difficult to source such a small piece of metal.

Kelvin produced his business card. "This is my card. Money is no object, as long as you can fix it."

"Very well," the owner agreed reluctantly.

Kelvin left the shop with a heavy heart, realizing he'd left his cigarettes in his study. Back in the car, Chris was asleep. Kelvin's voice startled him awake. "Sir sir, you're back."

It was almost nine o'clock. Why had Mr. Foley taken so long?

"Do you have any cigarettes?" Kelvin's icy voice echoed, leaving Chris bewildered.