Chapter 7
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I was just saying goodnight…”
I struggled weakly beneath him, tears streaming down my face.
After a long while, he finally came to his senses, releasing my bruised arms and standing up with
a stern expression.
I curled up under the covers, shivering, and cried out in anguish.
Arthur remained silent for a long time.
“Never call me that again.”
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With that, he left the room.
I stayed hidden under the covers for a long time before daring to get out of bed and walk to the door.
I found it locked from the outside.
The entire villa was as quiet as a massive black coffin, save for the wind outside.
I couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning until dawn, when the door quietly opened.
“Cary, why aren’t you asleep yet?”
Arthur’s eyes were bloodshot, but his tone was
gentle again.
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I was still frightened of him, pulling the covers over my head and refusing to respond.
“I’m sorry for what happened earlier,” he sighed, sitting down by the bed. “That nickname reminded me of my deceased mother, and I lost control. Please don’t hold it against me, okay?”
I peeked out from under the covers, looking at him timidly. “Do you not have a mother anymore?”
A fleeting sadness crossed his face as he
nodded.
“Children without mothers are very pitiful,” I said hesitantly, crawling out from under the
covers to pull him into a tight embrace.
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“Don’t cry, don’t cry. I can share my mother with you, and then you’ll have a mother too.”
His body stiffened slightly.
“If that doesn’t work, I can be your mother,” I
patted his head.
He began to laugh.
His laughter shook his whole body: “You’re such
a fool.”
It seemed he hadn’t laughed like this since he
was ten years old.
“Alright, alright, it’s almost dawn. You should get some sleep too.”
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He gently pushed me back under the covers, still
smiling.
I bit my lip. “I… I can’t sleep.”
“Why can’t you sleep?”
I hesitated, “I’m hungry.”
“Alright, I’ll have someone make you something
to eat.”
He started to get up, but I pulled him back.
“It’s not yet dawn, and disturbing others isn’t right. Never mind, I’m not that hungry.”
“You’re still sick; you need to eat,” he insisted.
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After several attempts, I timidly asked, “Do you
know how to cook?”
Arthur hesitated, then said nothing.
He did know how, as he used to make a bowl.
of noodles when Mrs. Menzie would beat him,
trying to soothe her tears.
After much hesitation, Arthur turned and left.
Soon, the sound of the gas stove being ignited
came from outside.
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