Fated love: the unwanted bride

“Charles Mcintosh.” Sylvan Cheney called out lightly.

“Master, I’m here.”

“Go buy that biscuit.”

“Okay.”

Charles Mcintosh knew that Sylvan Cheney hadn’t slept at all on the way, he was just resting with his eyes shut.

Sylvan Cheney walked to the dining table, where a hearty breakfast had already been prepared.

However, it seemed rather tasteless.

Jasmine Yale didn’t sleep well all night; it was almost dawn before she dozed off.

But as soon as she did, she would dream of Little Chale clutching the corner of her clothes, crying pitifully.

“Jasy, don’t leave me, don’t abandon baby alone…”

A cry like that always startled her awake.

She checked her phone. There was still no message from Mr. Yale.

She didn’t know if she had offended Mr. Yale. Last night, she had just said, “I will take care of Little Chale, Mr. Yale, please give me a chance.”

Later, when there was no response, she sent a few messages, “Mr. Yale, are you there?”

Still, there was no reply.

Had Sylvan Cheney badmouthed her to Mr. Yale?

Mr. Yale was a good friend of Sylvan Cheney, and he had never even met her.

Of course he would trust Sylvan Cheney more.

What would Sylvan Cheney say about her?

That she was ungrateful? That she failed to appreciate kindness? That she was a white-eyed wolf?

Ha-ha…

Yes, she was a white-eyed wolf.

Sylvan Cheney took care of her for twelve years, and now, she didn’t even want to sleep with him for a single night.

The room was dark with the curtains drawn, sunlight unable to filter in.

Jasmine Yale nibbled her fingers, scrolling through her phone.

There was a gradual cooling sensation around her heart, devoid of warmth.

At some point, her pillow had gotten wet, stained with patches of moisture.

“Sylvan Cheney, you’re really a bastard.”

Every time she thought of Little Chale, she felt distressed. It was a sorrow that lanced through the heart.

She had never cared so deeply about a child before; she didn’t know if it was fate.

But now, Sylvan Cheney was preventing her from seeing Little Chale.

Was he going to persuade Mr. Yale not to allow her to adopt Little Chale?

Unable to resume sleep, Jasmine Yale tossed and turned restlessly in her bed.

The room was quiet2, save for her soft sobs.

She lay in bed all morning, feeling as if her heart had been pricked several times.

Provoking waves of pain.

Suddenly, she remembered — from three years ago —

After the loss of her child, she spent days on end in bed without eating or drinking, gazing listlessly at the ceiling.

Sometimes she would cry, but more often than not, she remained silent.

At that time, she hadn’t even had the courage to confront Sylvan Cheney.

Nor had Sylvan Cheney called her once.

She made a decision then: from that day forward, she would erase him completely from her heart.

She would love him no more.

If possible, she would never see him again.

However, she never thought he would return from overseas. She assumed he would stay in the US for the rest of his life.

What did he come back for?

Jasmine Yale was lying on the bed, aimlessly flipping through her phone.

She couldn’t read a single word; all she saw was Little Chale’s little face.

She dearly wished to hold him tight, eat cake together, and listen to his fun little stories.

Sylvan Cheney, what a hard-hearted man he was.

Thus passed Jasmine Yale’s Sunday, spent in bed.

But what she didn’t expect was, when she got to work on Monday, the daily rose was no longer there.

Old habits are scary things.

The absence of the rose caught her off guard.

She then bitterly curled her lips into a smirk.

She removed the vase, throwing away the roses from the previous days.

She knew Sylvan Cheney was a man of his word, ruthless and unyielding..