Fated love: the unwanted bride

After taking a shower. Jasmine Yale went to the rooftop of the Cheney Residence.

She loved it there.

In summer, it was the most beautiful place. She could look up to see countless twinkling stars, and look down to the beautiful garden view.

Autumn on the rooftop was a bit chilly, so she bundled up in a coat and sat there quietly.

As a naive child, she loved to make wishes upon the sky.

Because her mother told her that wishes would come true someday.

The lounge chair was very comfortable, she sat on it, swaying gently, gazing at the moon in the sky.

There was a faint milky way in the middle.

“Tender is my love and lovely is my sweetheart, reluctantly I look back to the

Magpies Bridge.”

She softly recited it, and thought of her mother.

Her hair was still wet, the wind blowing over her skin gave a tantalizing sense of comfort.

The Cheney Residence in autumn was also quite beautiful, with large blooms of

Hibiscus and Begonias filling the garden.

Under the night and the lights, the flowers were stunning, adding an extra touch of alluring beauty.

If only her baby was still here.

She could take him here to see the stars, tell him that wishes do come true someday.

They do come true.

It’s just that sometimes, they only happen in dreams.

A bitter taste filled the corner of her lips, a lump in her throat choked her.

“Little Rascal…” she called softly, and then she cried.

The Little Rascal who loved to kick her…would never come back.

She remembered how lively the little fellow was, she was throwing up all over the place when she was only two months pregnant.

But even so, she still loved him.

She loved him, really, truly loved him…

Three years, her Little Rascal had been gone for three years.

Her hands unconsciously moved to her abdomen, where…there was no longer a heartbeat.

The night wind blew on her face, her hands and feet were as cold as ice.

She closed her eyes, allowing the wind to blow quietly around her.

Suddenly

A pair of warm hands covered hers!

Jasmine Yale was startled, her eyes flew open, her body gave a slight tremble.

“Aren’t you going to bed yet?”

Sylvan Cheney spoke calmly, and placed his suit jacket over her body.

She was really being wilful.

The current weather wasn’t like summer’s.

Jasmine Yale glanced at him, smiling sarcastically, “Keeping an eye on me?

Afraid I’ll steal something?”

“Jasmine Yale, have you lost your mind?”

“Yes… I’ve lost my mind…”

She had been unable to pull herself out of her stupor for a long time after losing her child.

She wouldn’t eat or drink, she laid bedridden, day in and day out.

She simply couldn’t sleep; every time she did, it was a nightmare.

Eventually, lying in bed in a daze, perhaps on the verge of death, Peyenne

Jones finally found her.

She sent her to the hospital and took her to see a psychologist.

Peyenne Jones even asked her why, but she didn’t say anything.

It became her private perpetual pain.

Even after meeting Sylvan Cheney again three years later, she didn’t want to bring it up.

Sylvan Cheney’s heart felt like it was being constricted, nearly suffocating him. He bent over, without a word picked her up from the chair, and started walking downstairs.

“Sylvan Cheney, let me down, there are too many eyes here at the Cheney

Residence, you shouldn’t carry me.”

“If you don’t mind waking everyone in the house, go ahead and yell!”

Sylvan Cheney was not someone to be afraid of her.

Jasmine Yale closed her mouth.

His embrace was warm and steady, but alas, it couldn’t shelter her from wind and rain.

She couldn’t accept it.

Sylvan Cheney’s face was cold, void of expression, his jaw clenched tight.

He walked slowly, step by step, carrying her down the rooftop.

After a while, Jasmine Yale suddenly laughed.

“Mr.. Cheney, could I see a picture of your Little Cutie?”