In an instant, everything grew quiet again.
Sunlight poured through the clean, transparent glass window, casting colorful beams onto the floor. The entire office was bathed in sunlight.
Aunt May's chest felt tight, her breath catching.
It had been a long time since she had been this unsettled.
Calmly and comfortably, she had spent most of her life this way, never expecting at this age to revisit things she wished to forget.
She remembered that Qiana's hands were most often cold. When she clutched hers, there was always an endless despair in her grip.
A kind of despair that no longer wanted to live.
Qiana had been gone for over twenty years.
"Aunt May, you don't look well. Let me help you to the lounge to rest, okay? I'm sorry—it's my fault. I shouldn't have brought these things up. Honestly, I'm not feeling much better than you are." Lana Fern sighed. "After growing up, I learned all about my sister's situation. A five-year-old little girl…"
