"I'm leaving."
Jasmine Yale waved her hand and smiled at Butler Santana.
Seeing her smile, Butler Santana couldn't help but feel the urge to cry.
Although she and Jasmine Yale hadn't known each other long, she knew Jasmine was a good girl.
She was different from the other women Mr. Cheney had met outside.
She was uncomplicated and genuinely kind to the young master, as if he were her own.
Jasmine Yale dragged her luggage down the steps, heading toward the gate.
The midday sun lazily hung in the sky, with the sunlight painting a landscape of shadows and vines on the ground.
Light and shadow intertwined, years passing by.
"Butler Santana, goodbye!" she waved again as she parted.
Under the sunlight, her smile was even more pure and clean, clearer than the creek, more moving than the bright moon.
"Shall I have the driver take you?"
"I'll just take a cab from the corner."
"Miss Yale, are you really leaving?"
"Butler Santana, take care."
