I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 33

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 33

Ava cried in her office for a long time.

Ethan was outside. He didn’t ask any questions. When she finally opened the door, he handed her a cup of warm chamomile tea.

“Better?”

She accepted the mug. The warmth was a comfortable weight in her hands.

“Yes,” she said, her voice still a little hoarse. “Much better.”

The days passed.

Nashville’s summer grew blazing hot, and Angel’s Share’s reputation grew even faster.

The results of the San Francisco World Spirits Competition were announced.

Their first batch won double gold.

A columnist from *Whiskey Advocate* wrote in the tasting notes: “This Tennessee newcomer possesses an astonishing complexity and soul… It reminds you of every good old memory while declaring the arrival of a new era on the tongue.”

The news came that afternoon. Ethan pinned the email to the notice board, and the entire distillery erupted in cheers. The employees surrounded Ava, tossing celebratory confetti over her head.

Ethan stood at the edge of the crowd, just smiling and applauding.

Ava looked past all the jubilant faces and met his eyes. She saw the light in them, the same light that was in her own heart.

That evening, she found a quiet spot by the Cumberland River. The water glowed gold in the sunset, and the rhythmic sound of oars came from afar, cutting through the calm surface.

Ethan sat beside her and handed her a brown paper bag.

“My grandpa’s smoked beef jerky,” he said. “He told me to bring it to you. Said you’re as thin as a stalk of malt.”

Ava accepted it. The jerky still carried the distinctive scent of hickory smoke.

“Is your grandpa well?”

Ethan was silent for a moment. “His hearing is getting worse,” he said softly. “I went back last week and talked to him for half the day about a new kiln I’d bought. He just kept nodding. Later, I realized he hadn’t heard a word.”

Ava looked at him.

“Then you…”

“I stopped talking.” Ethan smiled and took a small piece of wood from his pocket. It bore a trace of charring. “I gave him a smoked piece of oak to smell, then an unsmoked one. He smelled them, picked up a pen, and wrote: ‘Five minutes too long on the fire.’”

He handed the small piece of wood to Ava. “After that, we didn’t speak all afternoon. We just smelled the wood, passing pieces back and forth, and he taught me everything. For a moment, I felt like I understood him better than if we’d said ten thousand words.”

The simple words touched Ava’s heart.

She looked at Ethan’s profile. The sunset glow fell across his glasses, warm and soft.

This man had been by her side since the day she stepped out of the Nashville station with her suitcase.

He had helped her find a nearly abandoned warehouse, stayed up all night with her tuning equipment, and when she was worried about funds, he had taken out all his savings. When she was hurt by her past, he handed her hot tea. When she stood in the spotlight, he applauded for her.

He was never loud, never forceful, just quietly there.

She had never asked him why.

Now, it seemed there was no need to ask.

Some things were clearer when left unsaid.