Her floral dress lay spread across the ground, like a blossoming flower.
She sat there quietly.
The white wall was bare, yet in her eyes, all the memories of these years kept emerging on it.
There was her mother's smiling face, Sylvan Cheney's figure, and also Little Chale's features...
Everything was so intricately complex, each blade of grass and twig was full of emotion.
Sunlight poured in from the large windows, landing on her face, her body, coating her fair complexion with a layer of light gold.
The truth was suffocating her.
She had never imagined that her casual search would unravel such a tangled web of grievances and grudges.
What had to come, would always come, what had to be repaid, would be repaid.
Fate always liked to play such jokes.
She knew Sylvan must have regretted, regretted meeting her fifteen years ago, regretted bringing her home, regretted learning the truth so late.
