Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1175: Are You Still Leaving?

Chapter 1175: Chapter 1175: Are You Still Leaving?

She didn’t feel sleepy at all, she just wanted to lie motionlessly on his lap and keep talking nonstop.

Sylvan Cheney was helpless, his heart beating regularly.

"Mr. Cheney..." she called him, "could you please bring Little Chale home? The poor thing is very lonely in Lonton..."

"He’s a boy, what’s there to be lonely about?"

"Boys are human too, and he’s still so young, unreasonable."

"You don’t need to worry about Chaley."

"Not worrying, what should I worry about then? I don’t want to worry about anything to do with your family," Jasmine Yale snorted coldly.

"Going to sleep or not? If you’re not sleeping, then I am," Sylvan Cheney didn’t want to deal with her anymore.

He knew this girl would just get more and more into it and wanted to tell him everything.

At this time, it was nearly three o’clock in the morning.

She smelled faintly of alcohol, her whole being like a bunch of grapes, hanging onto him.

"Don’t sleep, if you sleep who will listen to me, I still have so many things to say... Can I tell you about our school? That Linnie Elwin from last time, did you send her away? It was really annoying, talking about how someone is married..."

"..."

"Since she’s gone, but now the boys at school don’t dare to write me love letters anymore. I used to get several a day, and now not even one in a month," Jasmine Yale was a bit unhappy, "Is it because I’m not attractive anymore? Is it?"

"When were you ever attractive?"

"Is that so..." Jasmine Yale felt dejected, "Got it."

"Flight is at ten in the morning tomorrow, are you leaving or not? Hmm?"

"Leaving... I don’t want to stay in Landon anymore..."

"Then go to sleep."

"Not sleeping, I said I’m not sleeping!"

Sylvan Cheney truly had no way of dealing with her, with her carrying on like this, another two or three hours would be no problem.

He hadn’t watched her closely enough, allowing her to drink alcohol, and her bedroom was a total mess.

Eventually, Sylvan Cheney just turned off the light, lay down holding her, his arms around her waist, not letting her move about.

"Jasmine Yale, be good and go to sleep."

"Feeling pitiful, can’t sleep..."

"..."

She kept saying "not sleeping," but still, Sylvan Cheney forced her to lie down, holding her down so she couldn’t move.

At first, she would struggle like a little duckling, but gradually got tired and fell into a deep sleep.

In his eyes, she still looked just like before, sweet and kind, simple and lovely, unchanged.

Her soft hair fell across his neck, tickling him considerably.

To say he wasn’t affected would be a lie; Sylvan Cheney suppressed himself.

The night was deep, Jasmine Yale slowly stopped talking, her breathing steady, her heartbeat regular, and she nestled in his arms like a rabbit.

Outside, the shadows of trees loomed, casting large dark images on the curtains.

The wind blew, the leaves moved with it, making a "whooshing" sound.

The night passed peacefully, Jasmine Yale sunk into the numbness of alcohol, unable to extricate herself.

...

Bright and early, she was woken by an alarm.

The fog hung heavy outside, a blank white, the sky barely brightening, visibility not extending far.

Jasmine Yale’s head ached immensely, it was always like this for her, feeling a headache the day after getting drunk.

Struggling to sit up, she felt around, Sylvan Cheney was not there.

When had he gotten up? Where had he gone?

Forcefully trying to remember, she recalled getting drunk last night, and he had stayed with her in the bedroom.

This man still possessed a gentlemanly demeanor, he hadn’t been improper towards her nor had he done anything.