Chapter 4Nine Years of Hate, A Lifetime of Regret

The world seemed to have been muted.

At this moment, there was no sound in my world.

Only the flickering flames dancing in front of my eyes.

And my child about to be pushed into the fire, disappearing from my world bit by bit.

At that moment, I had long forgotten that the fire was enough to burn me to death.

I couldn't even hear the staff's exclamations.

Ghosts and gods at work, I rushed forward and threw myself into the fire.

I wanted to hug him one more time.

"Baby..."

Sorry, really sorry.

It was me who didn't protect you well.

Or maybe, I shouldn't have given birth to you.

A life carrying hatred ultimately won't be happy.

But, do you know how happy I was the moment I learned you had life in my belly...

The scorching flames burned my skin bit by bit.

But as if I couldn't feel the pain, I rushed forward recklessly.

I thought, anyway, my life is already rotten, dying with the baby like this seems not bad.

"Iris, what are you doing?"

Asher dragged me back from the fire desperately.

By the firelight, I saw my reflection in Asher's eyes.

Messy and crazy.

His eyes held emotions I couldn't read.

Like anger, like panic, and it seemed there was also a little bit of: pity.

He gripped my shoulders tightly, his strength terrifying.

"Do you want to die?"

I collapsed weakly.

He was right, I didn't know the meaning of living anymore.

"Yes, Asher, I don't want to live..."

"I've lived enough."

"Asher, let me die with the baby..."

Under the firelight, I cried uncontrollably.

Asher's expression changed abruptly, a few traces of panic appearing in his eyes where I couldn't see.

Then, he grabbed my arm tightly again, forcing me to look at him.

"Die?"

"Iris, are you even worthy of dying?"

"You have to live, live to atone for your parents."

His cold, hard expression pierced into my eyes, carrying a thorough chill.

Like the substantive wind blades in a snowy night.

"Also, don't threaten me with death again."

"At eighteen you were too cowardly to die, do you think after nine years, you have the courage?"

Looking at my breakdown, Asher felt as if his heart had been pricked by a tiny needle.

Not very painful, but the strange feeling was particularly obvious.

In a trance, another me appeared before him.

The me who once fell asleep on the sofa waiting for him to come home.

The me who carefully pulled his sleeve asking for forgiveness when making a mistake.

The me who cried to him with red eyes when accidentally cutting a finger.

The me who stubbornly ran into the kitchen to hug him from behind, refusing to rest even when sick and weak...

These versions of me gradually merged with the me crying hysterically in front of him.

Yet they seemed like two different people.

For no reason, his heart felt a bit uncomfortable.

Asher tightly clenched his hands hidden in his cuffs, forcefully suppressing the wave-like emotions in his heart.

He took the urn handed over by the staff and threw it to me without hesitation.

Like throwing away a hot potato.

Under the night sky, his tone was cold and hard.

"Done crying? Then take your son and get lost back home."

He left with Chloe, ignoring me behind him, almost crying to the point of fainting.

Under the night sky, I held the child's ashes, walking step by step back to the "home" I had lived in for nine years.

The summer night wind wasn't cold, but at that moment I felt there was not a trace of warmth left in this world.

When I got home, Asher was leaning obliquely against the back of the sofa, thinking about something.

He saw me, his gaze swept over the box tightly held in my arms, and his eyelids drooped.

The words he spoke were ugly and piercing.

"Only you treat him as a treasure."

These words were like heavy rain on a summer night, beating on my heart, provoking my anger towards him.

For the first time in my life, I retorted with sarcasm.

"Naturally can't compare to you, who can even lay a hand on your own son."

Asher looked as if a sore spot had been pricked. A flash of pain passed through his eyes when he looked at me, but he refused to admit defeat.

Finally, he snorted coldly and went back to his room.