Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1289 Snow in Landon Arrives as Promised

Chapter 1289: Chapter 1289 Snow in Landon Arrives as Promised

Charles Mcintosh bent his head and saw the illuminated webpage on the tablet.

University of Cakago’s official website.

A twinge struck Charles’s heart as he looked up at the back of Sylvan Cheney.

He knew Sylvan hadn’t left the house all day today, which was unusual for him.

The man in the gray sweater stood by the window, his suit pants wrapping around his long legs. Poised and elegant, he stood at the window.

Charles didn’t disturb Sylvan, but left the living room to call Lilac Serval.

Sylvan stood by the window, his gaze falling on the trees in the courtyard.

When the wind blew, the sound of wind chimes from the high balcony could be heard, tinkling continuously.

Those wind chimes had been hung by Jasmine Yale and had always been there.

Waiting for the wind, waiting for your return.

Before him lay the deepening twilight and swaying branches, but Sylvan saw a little girl’s silhouette instead.

She stood in the garden, first as a delicate and adorable eight- or nine-year-old, pouting, acting spoiled, crying;

Then, she was a teenage girl, her sash fluttering, hair flowing with the wind, pure and simple, as beautiful as a flower.

Gradually, her silhouette moved farther away, slowly disappearing from his view.

"Jasy..." Sylvan froze.

He reached out, only to touch the cold glass and grasp a handful of empty air.

A vacant light spread in his eyes, condensing into a mist.

Sylvan chuckled wryly, rubbing his eyebrows.

He was truly beyond help.

...

Three days later, the anticipated snow arrived in Landon.

The weather had been gloomy the day before, oppressively dark.

The snow began to fall around four or five in the morning, fiercely, and within ten minutes, everything was engulfed in white.

Sylvan was already awake by five o’clock, devoid of any desire to sleep, and pulled open the curtains to watch the snow under the moonlight.

This was considered the first snow of the New Year.

"Cough, cough." Sylvan frowned slightly, coughing twice.

He got out of bed and went downstairs.

"Mr. Cheney, why are you up so early? It’s just past five, and it’s still dark outside," Butler Santana was already up and busy.

Sylvan wore a black overcoat, prepared with a scarf and gloves, as if ready to go out.

"Just going out for a bit."

"I’ll make breakfast. Mr. Cheney, please wait a moment."

"All right."

Butler Santana hurried into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, knowing Sylvan wasn’t one to sleep in, but still found it hard to adapt to his early rising.

"Cough, cough..." Sylvan sat on the sofa, casually picking up a newspaper.

It was still dark outside, pitch black from this view.

The living room was exceptionally quiet, with only the sound of Sylvan’s coughs and the rustling of the newspaper being heard.

Butler Santana was quick; she prepared breakfast in no time.

"Mr. Cheney, I’ve made you a cup of coffee. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but if not, I can change it," she said cautiously.

"It’s fine."

Sylvan didn’t mind.

Even the most lavish breakfast could not compare to the ones he had during his time in Cakago.

"Mr. Cheney, I hear you coughing; did you catch a cold? I’ll get you some medicine."

"It’s just a chill, go ahead."

"Okay."

At the dining table, Sylvan was left alone.

It had mostly been like this throughout the year.

He took a sip of the coffee, his brow furrowed.

Bitterness, nothing but bitterness.

"Mr. Cheney, I’ve learned how to make coffee from Aunt Hurst today, and from tomorrow, I’ll take care of your coffee," said a teenage Jasmine Yale as she bounded up to him.

"Is it drinkable?" he raised an eyebrow.