Edward Stephens looked at her face, thought of what she had done, and felt a mix of disgust and irony.
For the first time in his life, someone trampled on his dignity, on his self-esteem, brazenly, and outrageously.
His submission, to him, was a humiliation.
"I don’t care who you slept with," he chuckled softly, looking at Daisy Ginger’s face, leaning in close, his voice gentle as if whispering sweet nothings, "—Daisy, you’d better run away with some man."
Their eyes met, and finally, there was a trace of an expression she couldn’t hide in her eyes, the pitch-black pupils looking at his face, stubbornly saying, "I won’t."
"I said I don’t care." Edward stated coldly, withdrawing his hand, turning and walking away.
His tall, slender figure, with his back to Daisy Ginger, the air that separated them, like a natural wall, divided their past from the present.
Daisy Ginger pressed her lips tightly together, her face under the light showing a certain paleness, only those dark eyes shining with a light that was darker than the night.
"Edward Stephens, you will regret it." She said, word by word, behind him.
Edward hesitated for a moment, then left without looking back.
A woman like Daisy Ginger, how could he possibly regret?
Without Edward Stephens, this room filled with his aura, had lost its meaning for Daisy Ginger.
She sat on the bed for a while, grew more and more angry, and from Edward’s bedside table, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, took a harsh drag, choked, and couldn’t help but cough for a long time on the bed.
The cigarettes Edward smoked were not her brand, the taste was very unfamiliar, thick with tobacco, much like his now sharp and distinct personal aura.
Back then... she and Edward shared the same brand.
Even the only shared preference had changed.
Daisy Ginger felt a bit uncomfortable, stubbornly finished the whole cigarette despite the discomfort, and in the end, her throat couldn’t take it anymore, forcing her to admit defeat.
She lay on the man’s bed in a daze for a while, her mind a mess.
In one moment, it was back to when they were kids sitting by the sea, Edward holding her hand, fireworks blooming with her.
She watched the fireworks, he watched her.
One show in the sky, another on the ground.
A scene of fireworks bloomed in the sky, another in the deep affection of a young man’s eyes.
In another moment, it was Edward gripping her chin, coldly telling her, "Daisy Ginger, you’d better run away with some man."
His cold eyes reflected her shocked expression, mercilessly piercing her heart with a dagger made of words.
Heartless and hopeless.
He used to do everything he could to make her happy, but now all he did was make her sad.
Daisy Ginger pursed her lips, got out of bed barefoot, carrying the pillow she had just hugged, with a gloomy expression she opened the door and went out.
If he wouldn’t let her be happy, she wouldn’t let him have his way.
Edward Stephens could forget about sleeping tonight!
When Edward Stephens woke up, he found someone nestled in his arms.
He was rather astonished.
How did Daisy Ginger get in?
Or rather, when did she get in?
She was still wearing the nightgown he saw her in last night, her long eyelashes drooping, forming dense arches like little fans, the corners of her eyes turning down, her lips slightly pouting, with an adorable little face full of displeasure.
That expression looked a bit aggrieved.
Perhaps awakened by him, the person lying in his arms slowly opened her eyes, and as soon as she saw him, she cursed, "Edward Stephens, you’re sick."