One Last Call Before Goodbye Chapter 22
Time passed quickly; in the blink of an eye, two years had gone by.
During these two years, Marshall’s company grew like a tree sprouting from a crack in the rocks—struggling, yet tenaciously reaching upward.
After the first major project, word of mouth gradually spread, and several other companies approached them for collaboration.
His team expanded from just two people at the beginning to more than twenty, and they rented an entire floor of a proper office building. It was no longer the cramped little workshop squeezed into a residential apartment.
Sometimes Darlene went to the company to see him. The receptionist had changed three times already, but every group knew—”The boss has a precious girlfriend who was once ill, and he leaves work on time every day to go home and cook for her.”
A new project manager, unaware of this rule, once stopped Marshall before he left to report on work, only to be pulled away by a senior employee.
“Are you crazy? It’s time to go. The boss has to go home and cook for the lady boss.”
The new employee was left dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, Darlene’s design studio also opened.
It was called “Darlene Studio,” and the logo was drawn by her—a simple line-drawing flower with five petals, plain and straightforward.
At first, she was the only one in the studio, working from the living room at home.
Later, as she took on more projects, she rented a small office outside and hired an assistant.
On opening day, not many people came, but everyone who did was genuinely happy for her.
Louise brought a pot of pothos, saying it would purify the air. Darlene’s college classmates sent a flower basket.
Marshall gave her the latest model of a laptop, with a note stuck on the box: “For the chief designer of Darlene Studio.”
Darlene opened the note and smiled for a long time.
On Tabitha’s side, things had been unusually quiet these past two years.
There were no phone calls, no messages, no actions of any kind.
At first, Darlene felt uneasy, but later she realized Tabitha truly meant what she said—no interference, no involvement, no contact.
Once, Darlene saw her from a distance at an industry exhibition.
Tabitha was wearing a black coat, her hair still perfectly styled, talking to someone.
Her gaze swept over and paused on Darlene for a moment, then moved away as if nothing had happened.
There was no greeting, nor any coldness—just as if she were looking at a stranger.
Darlene stood there watching her back, and suddenly felt that perhaps Tabitha was also waiting—waiting for her to prove herself, or waiting for her to give up.
She took a deep breath and turned back to her own booth.
That night, she told Marshall about what had happened.
Marshall was washing plates, the suds still on his hands, and when he heard this, he was silent for a few seconds.
“My mom is not someone who changes her mind easily, but she keeps her word.”
Darlene leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching his back.
“Mardy.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you hate her?” Marshall rinsed the last plate, put it on the drying rack, wiped his hands, and turned around.
“I don’t hate her. She’s my mom. The things she did, she meant well for me, but she just doesn’t know what’s truly good for me.”
Darlene walked over and hugged him from behind, pressing her face against his back.
“What about in the future? When we get married, Mrs. Hendrix, she…”
“We’ll talk about the future when it comes. Marshall turned around and pulled her into his arms.
“Right now, you only need to think about one thing.”
Darlene buried her face in his chest. “What?”
“When will you marry me?”