"I'm not one to pry. If you don't wish to answer, I won't ask any further," Jasmine Yale said lightly.
Sylvan Cheney gazed at her for a long while.
Half a beat later, his tone filled with a trace of helplessness and profoundness--
"I just saw my reflection in you."
This was the beginning of their mutual reliance.
That winter of the year, his mother committed suicide by jumping into a lake.
And that spring, her mother also passed away.
He had immense power and status, yet he was all alone, desolate and lonesome.
Until he saw her.
Her smile was like a blooming, radiant sunflower, luminous and captivating, like stars, like sunlight.
One semicircle reached out to another, inevitably wanting to get closer, to seek warmth, to rely on each other.
When she gradually grew up, he realized--
Two semicircles had merged into one, unable to bear the pain of separation any longer.
Jasmine Yale stared at him for a few seconds, the corners of her mouth curling into a faint smile.
