Jasmine Yale obediently looped her arms around his neck, lifted her head, and parted her lips to et his kiss.
The garage was quiet; no one would disturb them.
The temperature rose sharply, and the air around them was filled with a sense of comfort and warmth.
The kiss didn’t last very long. Soon, Sylvan Cheney pulled back, his large hand ruffling her hair.
Jasmine Yale felt unsatisfied, rubbing her face against his sweater mischievously, and teased, "Afraid you can’t control yourself?"
"Yes, Little Fox." Sylvan pinched her cheek lightly.
She was indeed a Little Fox—sent here in this lifeti solely to steal his soul.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, walking out together. Jasmine nestled in his embrace like a kitten, not too far, not too close.
As they passed the lawn of the Cheney Residence, Jasmine pointed to the swing set: "I want to sit here and soak up the sun."
"Alright, let’s go."
Sylvan was almost indulgently agreeable to her, giving in to her every whim.
The swing set at the Cheney Residence had so history. In fact, it had been standing on the lawn from the ti Jasmine had first arrived.
The swing set was sturdy, and every year Sylvan made sure soone refurbished it.
Sotis it was freshly painted in candy colors; other tis, a few ornants were added.
Jasmine had always loved this swing set, especially on sunny days when sitting there all day left her feeling cozy and warm.
Back in her school days, she enjoyed sitting on the swing for morning reading.
Later, during holidays like Christmas or Halloween, she liked decorating the swing and trees with peculiar items. Things like Christmas lights, or tiny Halloween pumpkins.
Sylvan never cared what she did, letting her turn the Cheney Residence into whatever chaos she pleased.
However, while Sylvan didn’t interfere, Tor certainly would.
One Christmas, she had decorated the swing set with beautiful ornants and lights, placing lots of playful little things in the living room as well.
Many of them were handcrafted by her.
Things like Christmas stockings, miniature Santas, and tiny reindeer...
But as soon as Christmas ended, Tor removed everything, muttering all the while: "What a ss, acting like she’s the mistress of the house, turning the Cheney Residence upside down."
"So much glue everywhere, impossible to clean."
"Not much good at studying, but devilishly skilled at playing around."
"If she can’t get into college, she might as well marry early and spare the Cheney Residence so chaos—not to ntion saving the kitchen the trouble of setting out an extra set of dishes and chopsticks."
At that ti, Jasmine was already in high school, no longer the clueless young girl she once was. Tor’s remarks were clearly ant for her to hear; she noticed them as she passed by.
She didn’t dare talk back. Instead, she quietly walked to the swing set and helped Tor dismantle the decorations she had made.
Even though she didn’t really want to take them down—especially since Sylvan hadn’t returned ho to see them—she had to anyway.
Standing at the swing set and recalling these mories stirred waves of emotions in Jasmine’s heart.
"Honey, where’s Tor? Haven’t seen her in a while," Jasmine remarked nostalgically.
"She’s at the cetery watching over the graves. Why?"
"Oh, nothing. Just rembered how, during my mischievous days, Tor didn’t seem to like much. She always said I was bratty and joked that if I didn’t study hard, I should marry early and have kids." Jasmine laughed.
She didn’t an anything else by it; she simply found it amusing.
"Oh? Is that so?" Sylvan raised an eyebrow.
"Sure is. I never ntioned it, did I?"
"Did she used to bully you?"
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