Only three months remain from the one-year deadline—
The spring breeze is ruthless, scraping flesh to bone.
The hospital corridor at night is as quiet as if sealed in a ceramic jar, buried in the mud, cold, dark, gnawed by insects—causing agony but leaving no strength to struggle, lying alive, dying within such confinement and despair.
Yvonne Finley didn't respond for a long time.
Her eyes lightly fell, staring at the muddled shuffle of her mismatched slippers. She was not like an ordinary woman who easily cries or lacks determination and direction, instead, she becomes more tranquil in the face of adversity.
Always causing people to feel both tender yet resisted by her cold indifference.
This is precisely the feeling Edward Brown had.
He even gazed at her quietly beautiful profile with surprise and bewilderment. He had not spent much time with Yvonne Finley and wouldn't say he understood her, but the fact that Caleb Baker was so fond of her meant she was no ordinary woman.
