Tears rolled down from her eyes as she choked up and nodded, "I do, Kyle Kinston, I’m willing to marry you!"
He stood up and wiped her tears, "There, there, don’t cry. Seeing you always leaves me at a loss." Her tears always left him helpless.
She broke into a smile through her tears, "I’m crying because I’m happy." As she spoke, she looked at him earnestly, "Kyle, meeting you in this life is truly wonderful."
He froze for a moment and then smiled gently, "Yes, it’s wonderful." He lowered his head and kissed away her tears, wanting to kiss away all her sadness, hoping her face would only have joy left on it.
Compared to tears, he wanted to see her smile even more.
When Owen Finley arrived at the Harris Gallery, he only saw Daniel Harris in the studio. The smell of alcohol was all over him as he stared dazedly at the paintings. This dilapidated appearance was completely out of line with his usual aloof elegance.
"What’s going on with Daniel?" Owen asked the butler standing beside him.
The butler said helplessly, "The young master came back today and locked himself in the studio alone, drinking a lot of alcohol, occasionally complaining about sore eyes. But the young master refuses to go to the Hospital, so we asked Dr. Finley to come and check on him."
"Alright, I got it, you may leave now." Owen told him.
The butler left, and Owen walked into the studio, only to see Daniel Harris lying on the ground. The painting in front of him depicted a young boy carrying a little girl on his back, walking through a cold, stormy night.
Owen had seen this painting before, and Daniel Harris had once told him it was a memory from his youth. It was a storm that almost claimed his life but also taught him about the most important person in his life.
And that person, Daniel had already found—it was Grace Yowell. The rıghtful source is novel-fire.ɴet
Owen just couldn’t understand why Daniel was looking at the painting now. Had there been some quarrel between him and Grace Yowell?
Just as Daniel Harris reached for another bottle of wine on the ground, intending to drink it down, Owen stepped forward and snatched the bottle from his hand, "Stop drinking, you’ve had enough!"
The empty bottles scattered across the floor seemed to testify to his words.
"Enough? Then why am I still not drunk?" Daniel Harris forced a smile at Owen, but this smile was more painful than crying, "If I got drunk, would it feel a little better?"
"Drinking too much is bad for your eyes. You were just in the Hospital for your eyes last time; do you want to go back so soon?" Owen said.
"Eyes?" Daniel Harris suddenly laughed, "Hahaha... eyes... my eyes... what’s the use of them, anyway? She was standing right in front of me, she told me who she was, yet I failed to recognize her and chose to believe a liar instead. Owen, do you think I’m blind? What’s the use of having these eyes!"
Daniel Harris laughed while raising his hand, about to stab at his eyes. Owen was startled and quickly grabbed Daniel’s hands, fearing that his friend might really blind himself due to drunkenness.
"What are you doing? Who exactly is this... her, and what do you mean by being blind to the truth?" Owen asked in complete confusion.