Rebirth of the Movie Queen: Mrs. Sinclair, Please Hug Me! Chapter 431: Relics

Aunt Willow’s eyes were still red, clearly she hadn’t escaped from the sadness yet.

"Aunt Willow, I’m really sorry, it’s my fault that I reminded you of these sad things..." Quinn Lockwood pursed her lips, watching Aunt Willow suppressing her heartache, Quinn felt especially sympathetic.

She could fully understand the feeling of missing soone who has passed away.

"I still want... I want to go to her house and have a look, I have so words left unspoken to her..." Quinn’s face was full of apology, she turned back to look at her ho, her gaze desolate and deep, like a bottomless icy abyss.

Hearing this, Aunt Willow didn’t insist on having Quinn stay for dinner, she feared she would end up talking about those things again, causing the child to feel upset along with her.

After bidding farewell to Aunt Willow, Quinn turned back into the house, this ti not lingering outside, but entering the main house with the doors and windows that had fallen off.

This was the place where Quinn and her mother would regularly stay.

Although all the furniture inside had turned to ashes, Quinn could clearly rember their positions, and every item that once existed in any corner.

She stood in the center of the house, using her mory and imagination to restore everything in the house, she seed to see, see the scene of her mother holding her hand and dancing around the house.

She also saw, saw herself and her mother sitting at the dining table eating chicken legs, every ti her mother would put the biggest, atiest one into her bowl, with the richest gravy poured on top.

Quinn couldn’t hold back anymore, her long-suppressed emotions poured out like a dam bursting, and she stood on a high cliff, madly leaping off, then being subrged completely.

Quinn cried, not a quiet tearful sobbing, but an all-consuming, uncontrolled wail.

As she walked through every corner of the house, her tears flowed incessantly, until Quinn couldn’t withstand the stormy flood of mories, and she knelt on the ground, shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

Quinn felt her blood rushing hot and cold to her head, clearly freezing, yet sweating profusely, her hands digging into the earth, fingernails sinking deep into it.

The pain, as if her organs were being sprinkled with harsh alcohol on bloody wounds, twisting her into immobility, leaving her gasping for air, even breathing causing unbearable pain.

Caron Grant stood on the house’s periter, from his angle, he could clearly see the scene inside, his brows tightly knitted and his cherry blossom lips pursed pale.

He wanted to go in and hold Quinn, wanted to ask why she broke down to such an extent, as if the deceased was her closest loved one, and the pain on her face mirrored suffering at the mont of death.

But Caron couldn’t go in, once he did, he would no longer know the truth, perhaps Quinn wouldn’t speak to him anymore.

Quinn cried for who knows how long before slowly calming down.

Holding her legs, she curled up in a corner, her eyes blankly staring out the window.

Outside was a blood-red canvas, the sunset’s afterglow painting the land in eerie colors, just like the haunted house where Quinn sat, strange and ghostly.

Quinn sat there dazed for who knows how long, feeling utterly cold.

She staggered to her feet, her legs and skirt stained with black-gray earth.

After Quinn left for a while, Caron finally entered the small house, judging from its remaining walls, the space was small, he could imagine how frugal the lives of its inhabitants were.

Caron traced Quinn’s footsteps through every corner of the house, seemingly trying to grasp the source of her sorrow.

In the dusty corner on the ground, there seed to be a colored mark.

The sky was darker now, and with the remaining light, Caron picked up the colorful object.

It was a photo covered by glass, only the edges burnt black and worn, the main image reasonably intact.

At least the faces were clear to see.

Caron pulled out his phone, switched to the flashlight, and carefully examined the two people in the picture.

It was a mother and daughter.

Based on what he overheard from Quinn and Aunt Willow, Caron guessed that this mother and daughter in the photo were likely the deceased and her mother.

The girl in the photo had an ethereal beauty, pure like a lotus unstained by mud, her long hair tied in a simple ponytail, looking directly at the cara with clear, bright eyes, her face fair with a naturally clean and pure aura.

Truly the epito of natural beauty and grace.

Looking at the girl in the photo, Caron felt a strange, inexplicable sensation.

A mix of pity, sorrow, or perhaps regret?

Caron couldn’t explain it, but a part of his heart clenched painfully.

This girl seed eerily familiar, but Caron was certain he had never t or even heard of her.

What was happening? Why did he feel this way? As if he and the girl were sohow intimately acquainted.

"Is anyone inside?" Just as Caron was lost in confusion, Aunt Willow’s voice ca from outside.

Holding the photo, Caron’s hand trembled slightly, and he quickly pocketed it.

"Who are you? Did you see the girl just now?" Aunt Willow, holding a box, appeared slightly surprised upon seeing Caron.

Caron nodded respectfully to Aunt Willow, then answered, "She had sothing to attend to and left. I’m her brother, here to rember an old acquaintance for her."

Aunt Willow seed sowhat skeptical, but after studying Caron, she chuckled softly and nodded.

This young man and the girl earlier had similar attire and bearing, polite and well-mannered, it was natural for Aunt Willow to believe him.

"Your sister and the girl from this house used to be classmates, friends even, she must have ntioned it to you?"

"I have so of Quinn’s belongings, and I wanted to give them to that girl as a keepsake." Aunt Willow gently caressed the old-looking iron box in her hands as if it were a treasured possession.