The car drove out of the city center, eventually reaching a cetery in the suburbs.
Tanya Sinclair was here today to visit her biological mother’s grave. Just as she got out of the car, she received a call from Daisy Bell.
"Tanya, are you there yet?"
"Just arrived."
"Great, pay my respects to Auntie for too."
That morning, Daisy had an appointnt with a difficult-to-book director and couldn’t find ti to co, so she had bought two bundles of white chrysanthemums for the tribute and left them in the car.
At this mont, Tanya was holding both bundles of flowers in her arms. She heard soone call out ’Director Langdon’ over there, and quickly said in a low voice, "Daisy, you go ahead and deal with your matters; I’ll hang up now."
It’s been five years, yet Tanya was not unfamiliar with this cetery. She used to co here often and would share all her thoughts and worries with her mother.
She never felt the cetery was eerie; those resting here were the families or loved ones whom others yearned for day and night.
Walking up to her mother’s grave, Tanya was sowhat surprised.
Her mother’s grave was evidently being ticulously cared for; it looked even newer than the graves built last year next to it, with a bouquet of flowers and offerings placed in front of the tombstone.
The offerings were fresh, the flowers hadn’t wilted yet, clearly placed within the last couple of days.
Tanya looked around, feeling a bit puzzled.
Who could it be?
Her mother passed away many years ago, and old friends had scattered and lost touch... As for relatives, ha, that was even less likely.
Tanya had no clue for a mont. She put down the flowers in her hand and gazed at the portrait of her mother, Charlotte Sinclair, on the tombstone, feeling a sting in her nose as tears welled up.
"Mom, your daughter is unfilial, coming to see you only after so long."
Charlotte Sinclair passed away before reaching thirty, nad as ’long joy’, yet her short life was filled with more sorrow than happiness.
In the portrait, Charlotte was young and beautiful, her eyes gentle and serene.
Tanya took her mother’s surna, Sinclair, because her father Sean Lynn was a live-in son-in-law.
Sean Lynn was initially one of Horace Sinclair’s sponsored poor students. That year, he ca joyfully with his university admission letter, and it was Charlotte Sinclair who opened the door—an ordinary yet romantic love at first sight.
But later...
Tanya touched her mother’s portrait, her expression mournful.
She rembered when her mother was dying, she held her hand and said: ’Tanya, don’t hate your father... Mom hopes in your life, you’ll be safe, joyful, and only et good people...’
But how could she not hate?
Tanya closed her eyes, feelings of hatred and anger surging in her chest.
When her mother needed him most, that man abandoned his wife and child, took all the family’s money, and eloped with his mistress!
Yet, her mother was still thinking of him even until her death.
Only encounter good people... ha...
Tanya felt a deep bitterness, mocking herself, "Mom, I’m sorry, I couldn’t fulfill your wish."
When she t Vincent Hawthorne, she once thought he was the one in this life.
As long as she loved him enough and tried hard enough, she could find happiness.
Now, it seed it was just her own wishful thinking.
Love and marriage are always affairs between two people.
"Ms. Sinclair?" An old, surprised voice suddenly sounded.
Tanya turned around, seeing a middle-aged man in cetery work clothes, about in his fifties, appear behind her.
Tanya had so impression of him; she often t him on her previous visits to the cetery. After seeing him several tis, they beca familiar, and would greet each other.
"Long ti no see," Tanya smiled in greeting.
Beautiful, gentle, and polite, Tanya left a deep impression on him as well.
"Haven’t seen you in a while. Heard from your husband that you were ill. Are you better now?"
Tanya’s polite smile slightly froze in surprise, "...you said my husband?"
"Yes, every year, he would personally co to pay respects. He even donated a large sum to the cetery, asking us to take good care of this grave."
Who else could do so much for her besides her husband?
Tanya: "..."
She looked back at the ticulously maintained grave, hardly daring to believe.
Could it be Vincent Hawthorne who had been caring for her mother’s grave all these years?
But she rembered Vincent only ca with her to the cetery once after their engagent, left quickly after paying brief respects.
During the two years after marriage, Tanya had tried to ask Vincent to accompany her; he would either excuse himself or bail on her last minute.
After two or three tis, Tanya understood that Vincent didn’t want to co, so she never asked him again, always visiting alone with flowers.
Could it be after she beca a vegetative state, Vincent suddenly changed his nature? Or did he feel guilty and want to make ands?
Tanya couldn’t figure it out.
She confird with the staff, "You said my husband was Vincent Hawthorne, right?"
"Vincent Hawthorne..." The staff repeated the na, uncertain, scratching his head and struggling to rember.
That man seed to have told him his na, what was it again?
Unfortunately, too much ti had passed, and he couldn’t rember right then, only recalling that the man was extraordinarily handso, even prettier than TV stars...
He was about to tell Tanya when he was interrupted by a colleague urgently seeking him.
"Old Crawford, stop chatting; there’s work needing you urgently!"
The man hurriedly bid farewell to Tanya, "Ms. Sinclair, I have to get busy."
Tanya nodded politely, watching him leave.
She turned her gaze back to her mother’s tombstone, feeling a bit complicated.
Tanya stood in front of the grave awhile longer, then turned and left.
Elsewhere, Old Man Crawford followed his colleague to help with the new incoming grave, half busy, he suddenly slapped his forehead.
"I rember now, it was Pei!"
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