??Chapter 295: Chapter 295: Who Lost First
Chapter 295: Chapter 295: Who Lost First
If the pain must exist, then let it be even more profound. If Cherish Turner truly must hate him, then may she hate him even more. Only by confronting death can one have a chance to live again.
After sitting by the bed for a while, William Griffith left. On leaving, he instructed Mother Goodman to take good care of her and not to ntion that he had kept watch over her by her bedside.
Mother Goodman did not understand Mr. Griffith’s thoughts. It was clear that he couldn’t let go, that he was reluctant, so why persist in being so stubborn?
William Griffith didn’t say a word, he just left quietly. Mother Goodman watched his lonely figure depart and sighed.
By the ti Cherish Turner woke up, examining her surroundings with emotionless eyes, all she saw was Mother Goodman. Her gaze instantly filled with disappointnt.
“Where’s William Griffith? Is he not here?”
Mother Goodman hesitated but ultimately replied as Mr. Griffith had instructed, “Mr. Griffith said he was busy at work and couldn’t make it, but he did say that I should take good care of you, Miss.”
In the suite on the third floor, Mother Goodman cared for Cherish Turner in the sa manner she cared for her own daughter after childbirth, hoping she would eat sothing and cheer up.
“Miss Turner, please eat sothing! If you carry on like this, your health will be in jeopardy! Miss Turner?”
“Miss Turner, do you want to go for a walk? If you eat sothing, we can accompany you to the back garden for a stroll?”
“Miss Turner? Miss Turner, can you say sothing? Miss Turner?”
“…”
Mother Goodman’s inquiries had no effect on her. She was as silent as the air around her.
Cherish Turner wondered if this ti William Griffith was truly angry, he didn’t want to revisit the past, his attitude was obvious. She knew there were tis she shouldn’t contradict his wishes, but she was a human, not a puppet. Living a life arranged by soone else would be aningless.
Cherish Turner dressed in a relatively thin nightgown, glancing at the intravenous drip still hanging there, she then removed the needle.
Mother Goodman wanted to stop her, but reconsidered. Let the Mistress do as she pleases, she thought.
Cherish Turner donned a thin jacket, sitting alone in front of the floor-to-ceiling window on a slender legged chair.
Her soft hair neatly arranged, falling over her shoulders and against her chest. The arrival of spring had brought the warm sunlight that filtered through the window into the room, it was slightly dazzling after days of not going outside.
Cherish Turner reached out her hand, blocking a bit of the sunlight. Her gaze was calm and deep, showing no fluctuation.
The beautiful clear gaze of her eyes, however, reflected no one, it was a blurry ss.
She had beco much thinner, and there was no life in her anymore.
She could remain silent all day long, expressing her dissatisfaction and protest through such action. Sotis, she would sit on the balcony drawing but would tear all her sketches apart.
Because unintentionally, she found herself sketching the face she missed terribly but shouldn’t and the person she currently found to be overbearing and heartless.
The only constant was her refusal to eat. Initially, Mother Goodman could sowhat persuade her to eat a bit, but now, regardless of what Mother Goodman said, she would just close her eyes, out of sight, out of mind.
The thod that William Griffith previously used began to lose its effectiveness. He used to add nutritional components to her intravenous drip, but now Cherish Turner rejected even that. She would pull out the needle whenever an intravenous drip was administered to her. Sotis her hands would swell from repeated pulling.
She was capable of going to that extent!
Reviews
All reviews (0)