Capítulo 1799: Chapter 1799: It Definitely Wasn’t Sylvan Cheney
The clouds are light, and the air is thin.
“Baby, ti to go ho.” Jasmine Yale touched her belly, withdrew her gaze, and returned to her gentle smile.
She held a handbag.
Just as she was about to stand up, suddenly—
Jasmine Yale saw that black Maybach again!
From a distance, the car slowly stopped, the waiter opened the car door, and a man in an ink-colored shirt stepped out from the backseat.
“Sylvan Cheney!”
“Clang—” Jasmine Yale’s bag fell to the ground!
It was still a position with no clear angle, yet this man’s back looked so much like Sylvan Cheney’s!
But when he raised his hand, the watch he wore wasn’t the one Sylvan Cheney always liked.
The man was very young, tall, with every gesture exuding a gentleman’s charm.
He leaned his head towards the waiter beside him, saying sothing, and soon the waiter led him from the main entrance into the hotel.
He was very far from her.
This ti, Jasmine Yale didn’t impulsively rush over.
She knew that even if she ran over, she wouldn’t catch up with him.
And right now, she couldn’t run.
“Sylvan Cheney, Sylvan Cheney…” Jasmine Yale murmured his na with dazed, misty eyes.
She stared blankly at the hotel entrance, the man’s figure had long disappeared beyond the door, yet his back and movents still lingered in her mind, as if replaying a movie, over and over.
The second ti she saw him.
Seems the last ti wasn’t an illusion.
He looked so much like Sylvan Cheney, so much…
She thought it was him.
Yet, it couldn’t possibly be him, he wouldn’t leave her.
Her mind fell blank in an instant, thinking of nothing, guessing nothing, only the man’s figure kept flickering.
She truly was obsessed, thinking every man who sowhat resembled Sylvan Cheney was him.
The feeling was like a layer of water plants wrapped around her heart, suffocating her, making even the slightest breath painful.
Jasmine Yale’s breath was sowhat hurried, her gaze still fixed at the hotel entrance.
Her eyes continuously lingered on the Maybach, until the driver drove the car away, and the hotel entrance was empty once more.
This hotel is one of Chicago’s iconic places, quite expensive.
Jasmine Yale stood there in a daze, despite it being night, her eyes stung with pain.
The wind blew against her body, occasionally splashes from the fountain landed on her, while others dodged, she just stupidly stood there, like a statue.
That man’s back and Sylvan Cheney truly resembled each other too much.
She was very familiar with Sylvan Cheney’s back, he often liked standing with his back to her, smoking by the window.
At those tis, sunlight stread in through the window, Jasmine Yale would squint, quietly watching him, her face filled with happiness and contentnt.
Precisely because she was so familiar, when that man appeared, she felt lost.
Resembling, too much.
Chicago is vast, yet she’s encountered him twice.
Her heart fluttered with every beat, each one like cutting against a blade, carrying a dull ache.
It definitely isn’t Sylvan Cheney.
Definitely isn’t him.
In the night breeze, Jasmine Yale’s expression was particularly dazed and confused.
“Um… I bought so many clothes, and shoes, can’t carry them all.” A woman brushed past Jasmine Yale, talking on her phone, “Prada’s new release this ti is gorgeous, I bought a handbag and a waist bag, both are stunning.”
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