Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1320: An Inch of Yearning, An Inch of Ash

Chapter 1320: Chapter 1320: An Inch of Yearning, An Inch of Ash

Jasmine Yale fell silent, slowly walking back to her bedroom and drawing the curtains open.

As she did, she saw the bright lights and bustling cityscape outside her window.

From atop the high buildings, everything was in clear view.

She stood by the window, silently, with a watery luminance in her eyes, like glittering lake waters.

The surge of emotions in her heart had passed, and now, things seemed much calmer.

Beneath the biting cold winds, Landon seemed bleak, the view lacking vibrant colors, mostly filled with mundane scenery.

The winter sun hung lazily in the sky, its rays warm but not blinding.

...

At night, amidst the colorful lights and flowing wine, the night sky hung low.

Surrounded by the dark night, shrouded in white fog, the lights were bright.

Jasmine Yale sent a message to Sylvan Cheney: "Heavenly Blessing Hotel, 1509, I’m waiting for you."

Two minutes later, Sylvan replied: "I won’t come."

Jasmine chuckled to herself and sent another message: "I’m waiting for you."

She didn’t know what she was gambling on, but she knew he would come.

Jasmine stood up, took out a bottle of wine, pulled the cork, and poured the red wine into two tall glasses.

The ruby-like liquid flowed down the clear glass walls, producing a dark red luster under the bright lights.

Her eyes fixated on the two glasses of wine, the rosy hue reflecting in her pupils, casting a faint shadow in her gaze.

The aroma of the wine permeated the moderately-sized bedroom, intoxicating and rich.

Two glasses of wine.

One was his, one was hers.

After pouring, she took a white pill from her bag, crushed it, and dropped it into his glass.

Throughout the process, Jasmine’s demeanor was extremely calm, her face undisturbed, even... serene as water.

She sat at the table, waiting for him, waiting for him to come.

She hadn’t bathed, still wearing her clothes from the day, just without the overcoat, now in a white sweater.

Her hair was tied up with a royal blue hairband, enhancing her serene and dignified demeanor.

Jasmine sat at the table, one hand supporting her cheek, the other gently swirling the wine glass in front of her.

Time slowly ticked by, making the entire bedroom feel quiet and lonely.

Sylvan hadn’t returned her message.

She continued to wait, believing in his arrival.

In the bedroom, there was a small hourglass timer on the bedside table; sometimes, Jasmine did nothing else but squint at the timer, watching the sand trickle down.

Waiting could often be boring, but waiting for him was a pleasure.

Just like many previous nights, she would sit in the Cheney Residence’s living room, watching television while waiting for him.

She loved waiting for him.

Although he asked her not to, she would agree verbally and then forget by the next day.

Some things, once done enough, become habitual, as natural as eating and sleeping.

She pondered whether he had grown accustomed to seeing her every time he came home.

If one day she didn’t wait for him, would he frown?

At that thought, a slight curve formed on Jasmine’s lips.

Landon was a place filled with memories for her, and each memory had him in it.

These memories were like bright, pristine pearls, and he, the red thread that strung them together.

Once the thread broke, the pearls would scatter.

Under dim lights, she stared at the wine in the glass, somewhat dazed.

Would he come?

He surely would.

The light refracted from the wine shone on her pupils, casting a soft halo on her beautiful eyes.

"Let not spring blossoms compete to bloom, for each inch of love turns into an inch of ash."