Butler Santana was taken aback again.
She dreaded Jasmine Yale bringing up Sylvan Cheney, yet Jasmine ntioned him anyway.
"Miss Yale, look, the weather is great today. You must be bored. After you finish the soup, let’s go for a walk." Butler Santana tried her best to change the topic.
"His dad can be quite naughty sotis. For instance, when we’re watching a movie, Little Chale is right there, and he kisses ," Jasmine Yale smiled slightly, her voice gentle like a thin stream, flowing over her heart without leaving a trace.
Butler Santana’s nose tingled, and tears almost escaped.
She had lived half her life and seen many things, but at this mont, her heart was heavy.
"He said he would buy gifts every day. Butler Santana, can you calculate how many days it’s been since he bought one..." Jasmine Yale’s throat was hoarse, her eyes red, "His words don’t count."
"Miss Yale..."
"I don’t like people whose words don’t count. People like that, even if I see them on the road to the afterlife, I will ignore them. No matter how they call , I won’t respond."
"Miss Yale... stop talking..." Butler Santana’s eyes turned red, and she gripped Jasmine Yale’s cold hand tightly.
What road to the afterlife.
She still needed to live well!
Jasmine Yale truly stopped speaking, she lowered her head, her eyelashes drooping, quietly stroking the little tiger.
"Miss Yale, do you miss the little master? If you want, I can ask Mr. Mcintosh to bring him over."
"No, don’t..." Jasmine Yale shook her head, "Don’t tell him, don’t say anything to him, he’s too young to bear it..."
Butler Santana choked up.
She didn’t expect even at this mont Jasmine Yale was still thinking of others.
"Okay, okay, I won’t tell him, drink the soup, have so more." Butler Santana fed the soup to Jasmine Yale.
Jasmine Yale opened her mouth and obediently drank it down.
It was as if Sylvan Cheney were feeding her.
Back when she was growing up, mischievous and unruly, she didn’t like to eat properly, preferring snacks.
Sylvan Cheney would ask her to eat, she would want to gnaw on chicken feet; he would ask her to drink soup, she wanted bubble tea, very rebellious.
Once she made Sylvan Cheney angry, he held her and fed her soup with a spoon.
Though rebellious at that ti, she liked him.
When he fed her, she naturally accepted joyfully, smiling sweetly at him, obediently drinking the soup.
Being able to watch him closely was a kind of enjoynt and happiness, she really liked him very much.
"Sylvan..." Jasmine Yale softly called, her gaze distant.
Butler Santana was stunned, her heart wrenched, she knew Jasmine Yale was thinking of Sylvan Cheney again.
"Miss Yale, it’s ." Butler Santana spoke.
Jasmine Yale lifted her eyelids slightly, seeing it was Butler Santana, a look of disappointnt appeared in her eyes.
Where is he, where did he go...
The bowl of soup was finally finished, and Butler Santana couldn’t bear to see the look in Jasmine Yale’s eyes, it was too heartbreaking.
"I’ll go wash the dishes, Miss Yale, sit tight." Butler Santana said.
Jasmine Yale obediently nodded.
Butler Santana took the thermos box to the bathroom and locked the door.
She broke down, unable to cope. How did a lively, adorable girl beco like this.
But she understood this feeling. How could you not feel heartache when the person you love most is gone?
Butler Santana cried alone in the bathroom, covering her mouth, running the tap, not daring to cry too loudly.
At her age, she thought she wouldn’t cry anymore.
After a while, Butler Santana composed herself and called Charles Mcintosh.
"Mr. Mcintosh, I just fed Miss Yale a bowl of soup, and Miss Yale’s recovery is alright."
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