Fated love: the unwanted bride

Jasmine Yale seemed not to hear, pressing an alcohol cotton swab to his wound.

Next, she applied medicine to his injury.

“Jasmine Yale!” Sylvan Cheney grumbled.

She was being quite rough!

“How can men be treated gently?” Jasmine Yale retorted, making a playful glance at him.

In a flash, Sylvan Cheney’s mouth twitched into a smile.

She seemed to pick up his manner of speaking!

Sylvan Cheney patted her face and lowered his voice: “Yes, if you’re too soft, I wouldn’t feel anything. Hiss…”

When Jasmine Yale applied some force to bandaging him, she accidentally tightened it, causing him some pain.

His brow furrowed, fury burning within his gaze.

“Of course, you won’t feel anything if you’re too soft,” responded Jasmine Yale, glaring at him in retaliation.

Chale Cheney looked between his old man and Jasy, unsure of what was going on.

What were they talking about?

It seemed complicated.

The little guy climbed into Sylvan Cheney’s side, looking at his arm with sympathetic eyes: “Uncle Cheney, does it hurt?”

“It’s alright,” Sylvan Cheney rubbed his head.

Indeed, his own son was the best.

Chale Cheney climbed into Sylvan Cheney’s arms, insisting on hugging him.

It boggled Jasmine Yale’s mind. Was Little Chale so fond of Sylvan Cheney? They seemed so close…

What was so attractive about a person like Sylvan Cheney?

“I’ll take you home,” Sylvan Cheney glanced at Jasmine Yale.

“I can take…”

“a ride!”

“Yes, Mr. Cheney.”

Once the driver heard the orders, he immediately started the car.

Chale Cheney was tired, and this time he was genuinely sleepy, drifting off in Sylvan Cheney’s arms.

The little guy looked especially adorable sleeping, his long eyelashes casting a fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes.

“Hold him,” Sylvan Cheney said.

“Oh, sure, I will.”

Jasmine Yale carefully took Little Chale from Sylvan Cheney’s arms.

The little tyke was soft and fluffy, like a cotton ball in her arms.

Jasmine Yale looked down at the little one, her face beaming with happiness, not resisting the urge to nuzzle his cheek.

Sylvan Cheney glanced at her. Was she so fond of children?

The smile on her face didn’t seem forced.

Yet, when he recalled her words from that night, his expression darkened.

“You don’t want to have my children?”

“Yes.”

“What if I insist on not doing anything about it?”

“I will take contraceptive pills after.”

“What if you accidentally get pregnant?”

“I still wouldn’t want it!”

Sylvan Cheney’s lips curled into a cold smile as he closed his eyes and said no more.

Jasmine Yale had no idea what Sylvan Cheney was thinking. She was just staring at Little Chale, entranced.

She liked him so much, she would love to sneak him home.

Little Chale must be a gift sent from heaven. He must be.

The car was very quiet.

After some thought, Jasmine Yale spoke softly, “Mr. Cheney.”

Sylvan Cheney didn’t open his eyes, merely responding with a “Hmm.”

“Little Chale was adopted by his father, right?”

“Don’t discuss these matters in front of the kid.”

“Oh, yes,” Jasmine Yale suddenly realized she had been inappropriate.

“What’s wrong?”

Jasmine Yale moved her lips: “I…I like Little Chale. I’m thinking of adopting too.”

“Why not have your own?”

Jasmine Yale felt a pang in her heart. The child she lost would always be her pain.

“I’ve heard giving birth is painful, that’s why I don’t want to do it,” she said in a matter-of-fact way.

Sylvan Cheney scoffed coldly, falling silent.

Giving birth is painful? This excuse was far too clumsy.

Seeing that Sylvan Cheney had stopped speaking, Jasmine Yale lowered her head, ceasing to speak as well.

The car soon arrived at Richard Yale’s apartment.

After the car was parked, Jasmine Yale tried to hand Little Chale back to Sylvan Cheney.

As soon as she moved, the little guy woke up.

“Chaley, Jasy has to go home now..”