Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1067 - Chapter 1067 Chapter 1067 Sylvan Cheney is a Swindler

Chapter 1067: Chapter 1067 Sylvan Cheney is a ‘Swindler Chapter 1067: Chapter 1067 Sylvan Cheney is a ‘Swindler He didn’t come every week, and when he didn’t, she could roughly be aware that he wasn’t in Chicago.

The times he didn’t come still made up the majority.

That day, Friday evening.

After class, Jasmine Yale carried her books and took Sweet Kitty to the nearby park to read.

Autumn in Chicago was very beautiful with a golden cover and many yellow, fallen leaves on the ground.

As the evening grew cooler, Jasmine wore a thick, light purple knitted coat.

When the wind blew, leaves occasionally fluttered onto her shoulder like butterflies, then slowly spiraled down.

In the evening park, the sunset reflected the sky, painting the horizon an enticing, beautiful shade of orange.

The setting sun pushed to the ground, dry leaves everywhere.

Jasmine sat down on the bench and quietly read her book.

The pace here was slow, and now and then one could see old people and children walking.

Sometimes, leaves even fell onto her book.

Sweet Kitty sat quietly beside her, sometimes playing by itself, sometimes laying down to sleep.

Perhaps because the temperature was just right, after a while, Jasmine’s eyelids began to fight each other.

Drowsy, sleepiness crept up on her.

She didn’t even know when it had started to rain.

At first, it was just a drizzling rain, tapping bit by bit on the leaves, pitter-patter.

Jasmine held her head, dreaming away.

Sweet Kitty looked up, noticed it was raining, quickly jumped into Jasmine’s arms, and naughtily burrowed into her coat.

The rain fell for a long time.

Jasmine was so tired, it took her a long time to stir slightly and wake up.

Looking up, eh, it was raining?

The ground was already soggy, streetlights lit, the sunset had set.

Oh dear.

She hastily packed the books in her hands into her backpack.

As she moved, Sweet Kitty also woke up, poking its little head curiously out of her clothes.

Eh, something’s not right.

Why aren’t her clothes wet?

Jasmine suddenly looked up and realized a man was standing next to her.

His distinctly jointed fingers supported a large black umbrella, his facial features handsome and sculpted with deep-set eyes and a high nose bridge.

It was a face she found most familiar.

“When did you get here,” Jasmine’s hands paused as she packed her things, feeling slightly awkward.

Sylvan Cheney spoke softly, “Quite a while now.”

The umbrella was perfectly positioned, shielding her body, not a single drop of rain had touched her.

As for him, there were damp marks on the shoulders of his clothes.

Today he wasn’t wearing a suit, just a casual grey trench coat, his posture upright, his eyes and brows looking handsome.

Under the gentle rain, his usual sternness faded, replaced by a touch of clarity and elegance.

Sweet Kitty recognized Sylvan Cheney, meowing at him cheerfully a few times.

The little guy had already forgotten Jasmine telling it that Cheney was a “liar”; it just remembered that this person was very good-looking.

Good-looking was enough, never mind if he was a liar.

Jamine noticed that her body was entirely dry, she bent down to put her books into her backpack.

It had been a while since their last encounter.

It seems he had forgotten everything.

That embarrassing scene, she guessed he wouldn’t mention it even if he did remember–it was totally a black history moment.

“Thank you,” Jasmine hopped down from the bench and stood in front of him.

His eyes and brows clear, her smile sweet.

Under the large umbrella, his gaze stayed fixed on her face.

The wind blew, scattering dry leaves, and also tossing her hair.

Half a year had passed, her hair had grown much longer, now reaching her shoulders.