Fated love: the unwanted bride

Chapter 815: Chapter 815 No signs of sobriety

Jasmine Yale’s body was exceptionally frail, as light as a child when held in his arms.

She was motionless, her eyes closed, her body burning hot.

The car couldn’t drive through the forest, so Sylvan Cheney carried her step by step towards the outside.

When they reached the cave entrance, the rain outside was pouring down, creating a waterfall-like curtain at the mouth of the cave.

The bodyguard brought a large raincoat for Jasmine Yale, and Sylvan Cheney draped it over her.

“Jasy, can you hear me speaking? Jasy,” Sylvan Cheney called out to her.

His long eyelashes trembled slightly, and his fingers shook uncontrollably.

Jasmine Yale was dozing off in a daze, unresponsive.

“Mr. Cheney, I’ve already called the people outside; they’ll come to our aid soon,” the bodyguard said from behind, holding an umbrella.

“Mhm,” Sylvan Cheney nodded and strode into the sheet of rain.

It was past one in the morning, truly cold and freezing.

The bodyguard draped a long coat over Sylvan Cheney before accompanying him back.

The rainwater dribbled down Sylvan Cheney’s damp forehead, dripping along his sharply defined face.

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The light was feeble, the rain torrential.

In the depths of his dark and obscure eyes lurked a hidden coldness and unnoticeable chill.

In the wind, Sylvan Cheney’s back was straight and taut.

He held Jasmine Yale tightly in his embrace, not letting a single drop of rain touch her.

Mud covered Sylvan Cheney’s trouser legs and shoes as he stepped on dry leaves and branches, walking out of the forest.

Jasmine Yale was too hot to touch; despite their layered clothing, Sylvan Cheney could still feel her heat.

“Jasy, wake up, don’t ignore me,” Sylvan Cheney said in a hoarse voice.

However, the small woman in his arms remained motionless, showing no signs of waking.

The sound of the rain drowned out Sylvan Cheney’s calls, and his usually strong voice sounded exceptionally tender and powerless at this moment.

“Mr. Cheney, just hold on a little longer, the doctor I called will be able to get here soon,” said the bodyguard, holding an umbrella.

The wind was too strong, the umbrella hardly effective, and rain still fell onto Sylvan Cheney’s shoulders.

Sylvan Cheney’s tall figure gradually disappeared into the darkness.

He walked through the silent, empty woods, his heart adrift like an ocean without boundaries, without a sight of homecoming for a long time.

If Jasmine Yale was an accident in his life, then over the past fifteen years, this accident had gradually taken root and sprouted with the passage of time.

His timespace was too lonely.

As the heavy rain poured down, Sylvan Cheney’s thoughts grew even more distant…

He remembered the first rainy day after she came to the Cheney Residence.

The eight-year-old Xiao Ya lay on the large, transparent glass of the Cheney Residence, blinking her starry eyes with curiosity towards the outside window.

Rainwater hit the window, forming rivulets.

She reached out a small hand, wiping the glass back and forth: “It’s raining.”

He walked up behind her, responding softly, “Mhm.”

Xiao Ya turned her head, still kneeling on the chair, her innocent eyes meeting his glossy ones.

“I miss home…” she said to him with a pitiful look.

Missing home is one of the most instinctual reactions a person can have.

The eight-year-old girl did not hide this emotion and said to him, “I miss home.”

Even though her home was broken and there was no one there she liked, she still missed it after living there for eight years.

“This is your home,” he told her.

“I miss my mom…” she said pitifully.

His warm hand rested on her fluffy head, a similar feeling rising from the bottom of his heart.

This feeling was strong, slowly eroding his mind.