"Father-in-law, can you look into my eyes and say that again?"
George looked like he wouldn’t be easily fooled. Adrian Desmond’s allergy was acting up, and his skin still itched. His mood was already bad, so he was even less inclined to deal with George now.
Adrian Desmond stared fiercely at George without saying a word.
"Father-in-law, I’m not a three-year-old anymore. Can you please stop trying to fool with such a silly excuse? She must still be in Abyanabad, and I bet she’s right here in this house."
Curly really disliked George calling Adrian Desmond ’Father-in-law’. So, the mont George addressed him that way, Curly bit her father’s leg.
Adrian Desmond felt incredibly wronged; this was a completely undeserved predicant.
"Curly, I’m here to see you; where are you?"
"..."
"I bought a lot of gifts for you."
Hmph, I don’t want them!
George, acting like Sherlock Hols, began searching the dining room. Curly, seeing George’s approaching footsteps, crawled under the table, occasionally bumping into adult legs. The adults all stifled their laughter, but no one dared to reveal Curly’s whereabouts.
If they angered the little Princess, they would surely suffer the consequences. Curly’s high-pitched wail alone, comparable to a dolphin’s shriek, was enough to drive them mad.
"Curly, are you under the table?"
George suddenly stopped moving. Darn it! Curly cursed inwardly, then scrambled out from under the table and bolted outside.
"Curly?!"
The beautiful girl in the red dress, with a head of curly hair—who else could it be but his Curly?
George’s heart leaped with joy, and he shouted, "Curly, I bought you many gifts, don’t run away."
With one running ahead and the other chasing, creating a scene of utter chaos, all the adults in the room burst into laughter.
Owen Hunter and his wife walked in together. He greeted the old Madam first. Having married an Orientan wife, Owen’s command of the Orientan language was quite good.
After all, during holidays and festivals, he would return to Orienta to see his mother-in-law, and good communication was essential to foster their relationship.
"Old Madam, this is bird’s nest. Please accept it."
"Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you," the old Madam said kindly.
Owen Hunter had brought gifts for everyone. Of course, a whole pile of them was for Curly, specially chosen by his precious only son.
Clearly, she wasn’t the least bit interested.
Ah, his precious son... This wife-chasing journey of his seems to have no end in sight.
Owen Hunter was easygoing and got along well with everyone. Aria Harris, in contrast, was far more subdued. Since arriving, she had worn a gloomy expression and hadn’t uttered a single word.
Owen Hunter, half-serious and half-joking, said, "...Everyone, I have sothing I’d like to discuss. Since we’re all here, why don’t we talk about the marriage between my son and Curly?
As you can see, my son has set his heart on your Curly and won’t marry anyone else. As his father, I can only try to help him fulfill his wish.
Rest assured, we will absolutely cherish Curly."
Adrian Desmond retorted, "Let George win my daughter over first, then co and talk about a marriage proposal! Anything you say now is useless."
Owen Hunter chuckled appeasingly. "What exactly is it about our son that your Curly dislikes so much? Tell , and I’ll have him change."
"There’s nothing wrong with your son; our daughter just doesn’t like him."
His daughter, Adrian Desmond’s daughter, wanted for nothing. He certainly had no intention of using her for a marriage alliance or anything of the sort. Naturally, Curly’s happiness was paramount. No matter how favorable the conditions, if Curly didn’t like the boy, it was out of the question!
Seeing that Adrian Desmond’s words were a bit blunt, Sienna Johnson stepped in to smooth things over. Smiling, she said, "They’re only four years old. What would children that young understand about love and affection? They’re just kids playing together. We adults are the ones overcomplicating things.
Let’s not talk about this anymore. I heard you went on vacation. Where did you go? Was it fun?"
Sienna Johnson changed the subject, and Owen Hunter, understanding the cue, tactfully went along with her, no longer bringing up George.
His wife, Aria Harris, disliked Curly, grumbling that Curly had utterly infatuated George. She was also exasperated with her son; the girl clearly didn’t like him, yet he shalessly trailed after that little girl all day long.
Aria Harris was about to be driven mad by her only son.
As a result, she couldn’t bring herself to like Curly.
So what if she’s pretty?
Could George be any more superficial?
...
Curly was panting heavily when George finally caught up to her. She waved her hand dismissively. "Stop chasing ! I can’t run anymore."
George, also sweating profusely from the chase, replied, "If you don’t run, I won’t chase."
"I won’t run anymore."
Curly plopped down on a rock in the garden, huffing and puffing to catch her breath. George walked over, gazing at her flushed cheeks, and found himself liking her more and more the longer he looked.
"You obviously didn’t go back to Orienta, so why did you lie to ?"
"What do you want with ?" Curly glared at him.
George sat down beside Curly, who imdiately shifted away. She genuinely disliked this boy; the way George looked at her, it was as if he wanted to eat her alive.
"I bought you lots of gifts. I was originally going to mail them to you in Orienta, but then you ca to Abyanabad. Good thing I didn’t send them yet."
"Oh."
"Abyanabad has lots of fun places. I can take you to see them! How about we go today?" George suggested enthusiastically.
Curly clutched her stomach. "No, I can’t. My tummy doesn’t feel well. I’m not going anywhere today."
"Curly, you’re lying again! If you lie to , I’ll kiss you, you know!"
Curly instantly clapped her hands over her mouth, terrified of being taken advantage of by this little pervert again.
"It’s my fifth birthday next week. You have to co to my party! And rember to bring a present."
"It’s your birthday, so why should I give *you* a gift?" What a thick-skinned boy, actually asking soone for a present! Curly had absolutely no desire to give him anything.
"Because it’s my birthday, silly! Don’t worry about what to get ; I’ll like anything you give."
"Oh." Curly casually plucked a rose from the garden and handed it to George. "There. Birthday present!"
George stared at the rose, his face instantly turning red. "Curly... you... you’re finally in love with too!"
...
"Then, should I ask my dad to propose to your family?"
"When did I fall in love with you?"
"Roses represent love! Since you gave a rose, it obviously ans you like ... I’m five now. I’ll grow up really soon. When I’m grown up, I’ll marry you, okay?" George said shyly, fidgeting a little.
Curly stood up, threw the rose to the ground, and stomped on it repeatedly—STOMP, STOMP, STOMP—until it was completely crushed. Only then did she look satisfied. "Oh, sorry. I forgot roses symbolize love."
George looked at the crushed flower on the ground, his face etched with disappointnt. "Oh..."
"Is there a flower that ans ending a friendship?"
"I don’t know."
"Just you wait! I’m going to go look it up. For your birthday, I’ll give you the flower that ans we’re done being friends!"
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