Fated love: the unwanted bride
Chapter 1381 Sylvan Cheney Holding Roses

Chapter 1381: Chapter 1381 Sylvan Cheney Holding Roses

Her words were somewhat childish.

Sylvan Cheney pressed his large hand on her small head, thinking that she had fallen asleep.

"All right, go to sleep, it’ll be fine as long as I straighten things out with you," Sylvan said indifferently.

Jasmine Yale drifted in and out of sleep, and coupled with the early rise today, she soon fell into dreamland. Her lips moved slightly, uttering two muffled words: "Jerk."

Winter in Landon is always unfailingly bleak.

Especially at night.

The next day was Sunday, and Sylvan Cheney went to the Cheney Family business early.

When Jasmine Yale got up, she didn’t see him and couldn’t be bothered to ask about him. After washing up, she went downstairs.

"Miss Yale, you’re awake." Butler Santana came over to greet her, "Mr. Cheney went to the company after seven in the morning."

"Oh." Jasmine Yale listlessly sat at the dining table, looking at the breakfast spread with little appetite.

As usual, she drank a glass of milk and ate a little.

"Miss Yale, Mr. Cheney said if you are bored, you can give him a call."

"Call him? I’d still be bored." Jasmine Yale couldn’t be bothered to talk.

"Miss Yale, would you like me to keep you company with knitting today?" Butler Santana knew that Sylvan Cheney had instructed that Jasmine was not allowed to leave the house unless he was back.

Jasmine shook her head: "No need, I’m going to read on the balcony later."

"Miss Yale, Mr. Cheney will definitely be back at noon."

Jasmine Yale didn’t take Butler Santana’s words to heart and leisurely continued her breakfast.

However, she didn’t expect that when Sylvan Cheney came home, he would bring a bunch of roses for her.

There she was, sitting sleepily on the cozy balcony, lethargic and holding a professional book on media and communication.

As she squinted and propped her head up, she smelled a rich fragrance.

Fragrant and refreshing.

It was the scent of roses!

She perked up, looking up to find a bunch of vivid, dripping red roses.

The flowers were bright, exuding a heady fragrance.

Sylvan Cheney holding the roses tossed the bouquet into her arms: "Saw them on my way and bought them casually."

The roses tossed Jasmine Yale a full embrace!

For the first time receiving roses from Sylvan Cheney, her heart uncontrollably began pounding fiercely.

Still, he was the most haphazard gift-giver she’d ever seen.

Jasmine Yale lowered her head, her long eyelashes trembling slightly, her gaze fell on the roses in her arms.

She was dressed in an ivory sweater that day.

The red flowers against the sweater looked even more delicate and charming.

Jasmine Yale put down the book in her hand, picked up the roses, and said indifferently, "Don’t like them."

"Don’t like them? If you don’t like them, give them to me, I’ll get rid of them."

"Just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean they need to be disposed of. I don’t like you, so should you get rid of yourself?"

"..."

Jasmine Yale’s fingers slid across the rose petals—a soft touch.

The roses were each a work of beauty, clearly of fine quality, each petal flawless.

"Come down for lunch when you’ve seen enough." Sylvan Cheney turned and walked away, his tall figure disappearing from the balcony.

Jasmine Yale gave him a sidelong glance.

The man who sent the flowers wasn’t much, but the flowers were acceptable.

However, she had never seen anyone give flowers so casually.

She lowered her head and sniffed, the fragrance was lovely, and the blossoms appealing.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on the fiery red roses, with the dew on the flowers reflecting a spectrum of colors.

Jasmine Yale, holding the roses, felt a different sensation filling her limbs, a tingling warmth.

At the corner of her lips, a smile began to curve upwards.