Fated love: the unwanted bride

Sylvan Cheney knotted his brows, her temper seemed to be growing more volatile.

A chill shadowed Sylvan Cheney’s gaze as it fell on her face, wishing he could glean something from her eyes.

Jasmine Yale pushed the glass before her and stood up.

“Jasmine Yale, sit down!” Sylvan Cheney commanded in a cold voice.

“Mr. Cheney, you can’t control me. Let me say it again, if not for Little Chale, I never wish to have any connection with you in my lifetime!”

Jasmine Yale gazed indifferently, her eyes cold as ice.

“Why?”

Sylvan Cheney’s fingers lightly drummed the tabletop, his face held a look of dissatisfaction.

Their eyes met, sparks flying.

The intense, explosive tension diffused in the air, seeming as if it could ignite any moment.

“Why? You don’t know? Sylvan Cheney, have you forgotten about those three years?”

Jasmine Yale’s face turned pale, confronting Sylvan Cheney, she hardly had the courage.

Her lips trembled slightly.

A frigid sensation seeped into her heart.

Dragging out past events would only leave her scarred anew.

No one could afford to be light-hearted when their own child had been terminated; she chose to forget, but she did not lose her memory.

Life had to continue, all she could do was bury the pain within herself.

Shedding tears deep into the night had already become her greatest stronghold.

If not for Little Chale, she truly never wished to see this man ever again in her life!

His every frown and smile used to be beautiful scenery to her, but now… it was just mockery.

Sylvan Cheney’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Are you blaming me for leaving without a word three years ago?”

“Sylvan Cheney, why did you come back? Why didn’t you just die!” Jasmine Yale choked.

Her eyes inflamed and tearful, she ran off crying, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve.

In the air, her voice still lingered.

Why did you come back.

Why didn’t you just die.

A sharp pain stabbed at Sylvan Cheney’s heart, as if it was pierced by a needle.

How much must she detest him, for her to wish him dead.

He slowly closed his eyes, his face was pallid and weary, a faint trace of gloom lingering in his eyes.

There was a time when he was on the brink of death.

If he had never awakened, would she not hold such animosity?

After that day, Jasmine Yale never saw Sylvan Cheney again.

She still went back and forth at the Cheney Residence to take care of Little

Chale, picking up and sending off the little one every day.

That Friday, she returned home from work.

Arbitrarily, she purchased a Japanese wind chime and hung it upon the pastel purple curtain on the rooftop. It was a lovely wind chime, a paper wind finder hanging underneath.

Six characters adorned it: “When the wind blows, you will return.”

Jasmine Yale listened to the melodious wind chime, staring at the writing, and fell into a daze.

The day dimmed, sunset was near.

She stood on the roof, gazing at the deep blue skies, until darkness fell.

Her heart remained calm, but something seemed missing.

Chale Cheney sat in the living room, dialing Sylvan Cheney’s number.

“Dad, where are you?”

“US.”

“Dad, when will you come back?”

“In a few days,” Sylvan Cheney answered, “Do you miss me?”

“I have Jasy, so I don’t miss you.” The little one giggled.

“Ungrateful.”

Chale Cheney still laughed.

How could he not miss him? If he didn’t miss him, he wouldn’t have bothered calling Elder Cheney.

“Dad, Jasy hasn’t been in good spirits lately, I don’t know why.” Chale Cheney whispered.

He titled his head, not fully comprehending.

“Oh.”

“Dad, is she missing you?”

The little one blinked his big eyes.

He always thought, Jasmine Yale was just like him.

Sylvan Cheney was silent.

Of course, she wouldn’t miss him.

After a long hiatus, he asked lightly: “What is she doing?”

“Jasy is on the rooftop.”