The mind of a child is always sensitive.
Poppy Hale was at a loss of whether to laugh or cry.
"Not really."
Yet in a child’s world, there are only two matters: like and dislike.
Iris Quill said this to Poppy Hale, showing her confusion.
Iris Quill was just over two years old.
Still very young, lying on the hospital bed receiving an inflammation drip, without a parent by her side, looking inexplicably pitiful.
Poppy Hale glanced up at the door of the hospital room.
Declan Hawthorne had gone out for a smoke, not knowing when he would return.
Perhaps, after becoming a mother herself, she couldn’t help but soften at the sight of a child.
She got up and changed her position.
Sitting between the two children, making it easier to look after them.
Holding Iris Quill’s little hand, Poppy Hale gently asked, "Does your hand hurt?"
Iris Quill shook her head.
"Pretty lady, can I call you Aunt Poppy?"
"You can."
His fingers tightened around Poppy’s hand, bewildered, he asked, "Why did my mom suddenly leave?"
Poppy Hale was montarily speechless.
She didn’t know how to explain this matter.
Perhaps, it was because Iris Quill’s father had an extramarital affair and a new child, her grandmother was taking the living expenses given by Heather Underwood and mistreating Iris, even wanting to take Heather’s property.
Poppy Hale changed the subject.
"Iris, what do you usually eat?"
"Breakfast and afternoon tea at kindergarten. Grandma makes lunch, mom makes dinner, and mom’s cooking is delicious."
Not eating enough at noon and then eating more at night indeed makes it easier for children to gain weight.
Additionally, Iris Quill, hungry at noon, was instilled with many wrong ideas by the old lady, believing it was okay to snatch other children’s afternoon tea when he was hungry.
The kindergarten teachers kept things quiet, most of the ti arranging new snacks for the children, and thus, things passed.
Iris Quill was eting such a gentle adult for the first ti.
Apart from Aunt and Great-Aunt, Poppy Hale was the first adult who held his hand while talking.
His eyes shone brightly as he looked at Poppy.
"Aunt Poppy, I’m sorry, I won’t bully Florence anymore."
Poppy Hale smiled.
Iris Quill beca anxious, thinking she didn’t believe him, so he reached out his little finger, "I an it, let’s pinky promise!"
"Okay, let’s pinky promise."
Florence Lynch’s IV was almost done, Poppy Hale got up to call the nurse.
Florence could be discharged today, planning to go ho.
Preparing to leave, she saw Iris Quill lying on the bed, looking at her pitifully.
Lonely, aggrieved, tears in his eyes, but not falling.
Still quite stubborn.
He kept looking eagerly at Poppy.
Declan Hawthorne hadn’t returned yet.
Florence pulled on Poppy Hale’s hand, "Mom, can we wait a bit? Let’s wait for Iris Quill’s uncle to co back."
Poppy Hale agreed, holding Florence as she sat back down.
Iris Quill imdiately smiled, repeating once more that he would never bully Florence again.
Initially, he just wanted to be good friends with Florence.
Declan Hawthorne ca in after finishing his smoke outside.
Iris Quill looked at Poppy Hale, "Aunt Poppy, can I find you again in the future?"
"Sure."
"But I don’t have a cellphone, and Florence doesn’t have a smartwatch to call."
Today’s children socialize using smartwatches, needing to buy the sa brand to connect and add friends.
Florence was still too young to use a smartwatch, so Poppy hadn’t bought her one.
Iris Quill looked at Declan Hawthorne, "Uncle, can I use your phone to reach Aunt Poppy?"
"Sure."
Iris Quill, feeling encouraged, continued, "Then can you wait for to finish the IV and take Aunt Poppy ho?"
Declan Hawthorne slightly frowned.
Poppy Hale’s heart skipped a beat, just about to refuse when she heard Declan say, "Okay, fine."
Turning to Poppy, the man’s deep voice resonated, with no hint of negotiation, "Look after Iris Quill, consider it compensation for the clothes."
That outfit didn’t an much to him.
At most, it was a gift from Justin Hawthorne, just needing a few words of explanation when asked later, not a big deal.
Yet because of that outfit, it caused her sleepless nights, turning over and over.
It wasn’t bad.
At least, what made her think were things related to him.
When Poppy just left him after breaking up, Declan Hawthorne suffered from insomnia for a long ti.
It was around that ti he smoked more frequently.
On the way out for a smoke earlier, many nurses stole glances at him, so even daringly asked for his contact info.
Declan Hawthorne thought of Poppy Hale during university.
At the beginning of the school year, girls only liked to sneak glances at him at most, seldom sitting right next to him.
Poppy, bold and enthusiastic, like a bright rose, forcefully and proactively barged into his life.
And then left without rcy.
She was carefree, but he played the fool.
She said she loved the father of the child.
To Declan Hawthorne, it all sounded utterly ridiculous.
During their ti together, Poppy didn’t hesitate to tell him how much she liked and loved him.
Yet the expiration date of love turned out to be just half a year.
Six months later, she bore a child for another man.
A profound exhaustion swept over him.
He knew he shouldn’t be like this.
There was no shortage of won for him to find.
But convincing himself, when introduced to the won by Mrs. Hawthorne, he felt no interest.
Mrs. Hawthorne, anxious, heard Declan straightforwardly say that he felt no impulse when seeing them.
Mrs. Hawthorne had nothing to say at that.
Considering the clothes and Iris Quill’s hopeful gaze, Poppy Hale ended up waiting awhile longer.
In fact, Iris Quill was very obedient.
His past mistreatnt of Florence was just a deliberate attempt to capture her attention.
Florence said, Iris Quill was being too childish.
The thought of a two-year-old calling another two-year-old childish amused Poppy Hale.
Her chuckle drew Declan Hawthorne’s gaze.
Poppy Hale had the two kids sit together, waiting for the IV to finish.
From ti to ti, she would touch their heads, checking for sweat.
Her actions were careful and gentle.
In her eyes were fragnts of shining affection, soft as water, settling on the two children.
She was a very good mother.
Declan Hawthorne’s throat felt dry.
In the past, they rarely discussed children, partly because Poppy was so fond of him, wanting them to stick together, unwilling for anyone else to share him, not even a child.
On the other hand, he wasn’t sure there’d be a future with Poppy, but if she insisted, it wouldn’t have mattered much to him.
Seeing the scene before him now, Declan felt a stir in his heart.
If she’s the one caring for their child.
It wouldn’t be too bad.
But between her and him lay an invisible barrier—Poppy seed close yet also distant.
The one in her heart was another man.
The one she was willing to endure for was another man.
Declan Hawthorne recalled when Poppy changed clothes in front of him, the shallow scar on her belly.
Healed well, yet still obvious.
Every part of her body silently reminded him.
She was passionately loving another man.
Declan Hawthorne’s molars ground with a creak.
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