Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1304: She Held Sylvan Cheney’s Hand

Chapter 1304: Chapter 1304: She Held Sylvan Cheney’s Hand

A gust of wind blew, and sand blurred her eyes.

She raised her hand, rubbing them.

A tear rolled down from the corner of her eye.

The yellow sand of Landon was truly scorching, it inadvertently made her cry.

Today, Jasmine Yale wore a light yellow coat, blending into the crowd, utterly ordinary.

Dragging her suitcase, she was petite and slender.

She made her way to the platform and hailed a taxi to the Cheney Residence.

The car drove along the road she knew best, a road she had traveled for over a decade, one she could navigate with her eyes closed.

She did indeed slowly close her eyes, with only the whistling wind remaining in her ears.

A little further on, there was a church, lined with poplar trees on the roadside.

Even further ahead, there was an old bell tower, the bell still tolling above.

"Eeh-ah, eeh-ah..." Eight-year-old her held Sylvan Cheney’s hand, "Big Doggy, I want to go home with you."

"Hmm?"

"Home!" she said, her speech muddled by the lollipop in her mouth.

But the trace in her eyes was clear, her gaze pure, her cheeks childishly soft.

She gripped his hand and wouldn’t let go, just wouldn’t loosen her hold.

Back then, her small hands were grimy, while his clothes were clean and faintly fragrant.

"Home!" She tilted her little face up, looking at him with innocent eyes.

"What’s your name?"

"Jasmine Yale!"

And so, eight-year-old her went home with this stranger.

That day, they walked this route, the road leading to the Cheney Residence.

As a child, she didn’t know what a kidnapper was, although her mother had said not to follow strangers, yet she was hungry, so very hungry.

She still remembered, on her first day at the Cheney Residence, how he had Aunt Hurst make her lots of delicious food.

So many things she had never tasted before.

At first, she timidly dared not eat.

But then she realized it was only him at home, plus she was very hungry, so she began to eat.

Using chopsticks didn’t satisfy her, so she even grabbed with her hands.

Jasmine Yale, leaning against the taxi window, laughed out loud, envisioning the figure of a little girl grabbing food with her hands.

That time, she was caught red-handed by Sylvan Cheney while grabbing food to eat.

But he said nothing, just waited until she was full and led her to the sink to wash her hands with fragrant soap.

Back then, everything at the Cheney Residence was foreign and fascinating to her.

She had never seen so many nice things before.

She was once just a country girl.

Who would have thought... so many years have passed, so many years.

From partings to reunions to becoming strangers, she never expected to meet him this way.

Their last meeting?

Suddenly, Jasmine Yale’s tears flowed like a fountain, suddenly spilling from the bottom of her eyes; she cried like a child, sobbing uncontrollably.

The taxi driver was startled, "Miss, what’s wrong with you?"

She was just laughing a moment ago; why was she crying now? The driver was perplexed.

Jasmine Yale didn’t answer, just kept crying.

Her tears soaked her scarf and strands of hair, reddening her eyes.

The driver handed her a tissue.

Yet, the tears were like rainwater, ceaseless and relentless, unable to be stopped.

Her crying filled the entire cramped space of the car, her long eyelashes trembling with droplets of tears.

She cried as if no one else existed, her shoulders convulsing, her throat choked.

A breath was stuck in her chest, as if a needle pricked her with each sob, bleeding her dry, the pain unceasing.

Her heart was as if it was clutched by a hand, squeezing tight, and in the suffocating space, she couldn’t catch her breath.

A wave of bitterness rose, spreading through her limbs and bones.