"But what?" Beatrice Hargrave asked, feeling puzzled by Nicholas Croft's actions back then. He clearly loved her, and he had the ability to resolve things, yet he said he wouldn't care about her. Every time she recalled his heartlessness over the years, her heart would ache for a long time.
In the time just after being sent abroad, every night she would sit hugging her knees on the windowsill, staring blankly at the moon outside, feeling despondent all day. Back then, she thought she was depressed and even sought a psychologist. It was only through medication and counseling that she gradually recovered.
"Mia, if Uncle said... he always treated her like a daughter, would you laugh at Uncle?" Nicholas Croft curved his lips in a smile that held a heartbreaking bitterness.
