Iris Harris looked up at the ceiling, her expression indifferent.
"Forgive ..." His voice lowered, tinged with sadness, "Will you really... never forgive ?"
Perhaps the Brandan Hyde of the dayti would never say such things.
Soone with pride as high as his.
Even his apologies were lofty.
Iris Harris said nothing, until Brandan Hyde’s breathing slowly cald. Then she reached out and pushed him away.
She walked out, standing quietly by the bed, looking at the man lying on it.
If it were before, perhaps she would have truly forgiven him by now.
Her love for him had always been unconditional.
However, it was already too late.
Iris Harris thought it was really too late.
If he could have just co a little earlier...
Just that little bit, she would have forgiven him.
But he didn’t co.
He didn’t co to save her like ten years ago...
************************
In the morning, Brandan Hyde slowly awoke from his hangover.
His head was splitting with pain.
He lay in bed, feeling the pulsing throbs in his nerves, the feeling of being drunk indeed felt terrible.
He wasn’t one to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but he didn’t know if he was so repressed last night that he ended up drinking himself drunk in one go.
Brandan Hyde opened his eyes, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling above. The air carried a very light scent that was very familiar, making him feel comfortable.
Speaking of which, where was this place?
As his rationality slowly gathered, Brandan Hyde suddenly realized sothing and quickly turned his head back.
That side was empty, with no one there.
He let out a slight breath, unclear whether it was disappointnt or what, and propped his head as he sat up from bed.
With just one look, he knew he was in Iris Harris’s room.
But how did he end up in her room?
He slept in her room; where is she now?
Brandan Hyde shook his head, but he was thoroughly drunk to the extent that he couldn’t rember how he returned from the bar.
While he was thinking, the door suddenly opened with a "creak".
A servant poked their head in, "Young master, you’re awake!"
Brandan Hyde got out of bed, tidied his clothes, watching the servant co in and pack the pillowcase, quilt cover, and bed sheet all at once, and couldn’t help frowning slightly, "What are you doing?"
"Miss Harris instructed ," the person said with particular respect, "Miss Harris said once the young master woke up, to take the sheets out for washing."
Brandan Hyde pressed his lips together, not sure if it was his misconception, but from Iris Harris’s instructions, he felt a slight disdain.
Wasn’t it just sleeping on her bed, did it warrant such pettiness?
"Where is Iris Harris?"
"Miss Harris is accompanying the lady for a walk in the garden."
Hearing this, Brandan Hyde walked to the window and looked over, indeed seeing his mother holding Iris Harris’s hand, walking slowly in the morning light.
His gaze inadvertently fell on her face, the sunlight very light, enveloping her pale, translucent face like a layer of slight glow, carrying a fragile beauty.
The two of them were talking about sothing, and from ti to ti, he saw Lady Hyde sigh lightly, her expression sowhat sad and distressed.
Iris Harris slightly tilted her head, looking at Lady Hyde, and when his mother showed a look of sadness, Iris Harris’s expression remained very calm.
Brandan Hyde didn’t know why, but he suddenly realized that Iris Harris was actually a very cold-hearted person.
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