...
Yves King felt as if his body had been surged through with electricity, tingly and numb, his whole being felt light as if floating in midair, consciousness slipping away, somewhat blurred. Only two incessant thoughts resonated in his mind: that night was with Wendy Quay, Maeve was his own daughter.
"Wendy!"
Stupefied, Yves King embraced Wendy Quay, who understood nothing but to bury her head and weep bitterly. He wanted to use all his strength to hold her tight. Wendy, letting go of her cries, clung to Yves King, her head buried in his chest wetting a large patch of his clothes. He felt the softness of the person in his arms.
Yves King also felt her years of stubbornness and strength, wishing to melt her into his chest.
"I'm sorry, Wendy. These years have been so hard on you." Yves King's mind roared, heart aching for Wendy, gently stroking her back, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Wendy. It's all my fault, really my fault."
"Yves... Uhh..."
