Who can clearly make sense of everything?
Oliver Hudson chuckled quietly, the tone of his laughter giving away nothing, but Charlotte Thompson could feel his resolve and fiery determination. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ NoveI(F)ire.net
"Miss Thompson, you may not understand."
He shook his head with a bitter smile, "I am the instigator, I am the source, and I am the one who ultimately created this situation."
"If I had abandoned them when they were most in need, I would never be able to forgive myself in this lifetime."
Charlotte momentarily froze before turning around to inspect the man behind her more closely.
Oliver was dressed in a simple dark casual jacket, with a hint of paleness under his eyes, and clear signs of fatigue in his gaze, reflecting the strain he had been under lately.
However, what surprised Charlotte was that there was more to Oliver than just an obvious aura of despair. There was now a hint of the tenderness and steadfastness she had never dared to hope for from Oliver, which Annie Anne needed.
It was in this very moment that Charlotte was momentarily stunned.
She couldn’t deny that in less than half a year, the sharp edges around Oliver had been completely smoothed out. Head to toe, he seemed like a completely new person.
He bore little resemblance to the ruthless, merciless man he used to be.
Sighing faintly, Charlotte disposed of her empty soda can, the hot wind continuously blowing, lifting her hair slightly.
After a few seconds, Charlotte pursed her lips, let out a soft sigh, and said.
"Mr. Hudson, I’ll remember your words. I hope you’ll keep your promise."
After speaking, she walked straight back to the living room.
The light-blue curtain in front of the balcony window rose with the wind, blending with the few potted plants in the corner, creating a pleasing view.
The man stood by the window for a long time, unconsciously blending into the scenery, as if he were a figure in a painting.
On the couch, Charlotte Thompson placed the soft pillow in Annie Anne’s arms, carefully tucking her in, then gently leaned over to take her shoes off.
Looking at Annie’s furrowed brow even in her sleep, Charlotte felt a pain in her heart, she sighed, and murmured softly, "Annie, when will this love-hate entanglement end?"
With that, Charlotte stood up, thought for a moment, and decided to go to Grace Thompson’s room.
As she expected, when she opened the door, Charlotte saw the two little girls sound asleep by the corner of the desk.
Grace could sleep anywhere, anytime, but it was rare to see Olivia Thompson sleeping at this hour.
A pang of sympathy passed through Charlotte’s eyes.
This child must be truly exhausted.
She gently approached and carried the two children to bed. Looking at the serene, soft faces of the little girls, Charlotte’s heart felt like it was lightly brushed by something.
She pulled a chair over and sat down, watching the children peacefully sleep in the warm afternoon breeze.
After standing on the balcony for a while, Oliver Hudson was finally able to suppress the overwhelming emotions in his eyes and made his way back to the living room.
On the couch, Annie showed no signs of waking up. Oliver sat down next to her, and seemingly on a whim, reached out to smooth her furrowed brows.
As his cold fingers came into contact with the woman’s warm forehead, Annie Anne’s creased brows relaxed slightly.
Oliver caressed her forehead for a moment, but finally, albeit reluctantly, lifted his hand.
Just as he lifted his hand, he was met with the woman’s cold gaze.