She even remembered the first day she saw the little guy, with his favorite big yellow duck backpack on, standing across the street calling her "pretty sister"...
She remembered taking his hand and bringing him home, buying him snacks, and bathing him.
It really seemed like a dream.
Otherwise, why couldn't she see her little Chaley now?
Jasmine Yale's eyes were somewhat vacant, with a white expanse before her, unable to see anything.
A sour and painful sensation flowed at the tip of her heart, a gentle movement was all it took to feel the oppressive pain.
"Little Chaley..." Jasmine Yale called out in a daze.
No one answered her anymore.
"Little Chaley..."
Her choking, hoarse voice echoed in the empty living room, like a lingering melody that couldn't be stopped or swept away.
Butler Santana was not good with words; she didn't know how to comfort Jasmine Yale.
Just then, Jasmine Yale suddenly ran towards the staircase.
