shuhaige
Chapter 852
He knew he hadn't protected them well enough, and everything he did, it was just a meager comfort to her.
"I'm Daisy's dad, and doing all this is my duty, not something that deserves your thanks. I've never expected these actions to make you forgive me. If it eases your pain, even just a little, that's all I need." Remington's gentle voice blended with the night breeze as his large hand brushed through Lizetta's long hair, over and over again, trying to smooth out the tangled knots of sorrow in her heart.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.
Lizetta's voice caught in her throat, her feelings a complicated mess.
She pushed away from him, her gaze resting on Daisy's gravestone.
Several bunches of flowers surrounded the grave, some dried, some wilted, and some fresh, alongside many baby toys, making this site uniquely lively and special.
Lizetta now believed Timothy Temple's words; Remington must have been visiting every week.
She clenched her fists, touching the gravestone and whispering in her heart.
Daisy, both your mom and dad love you.
But, please don't forgive us, forget about us. That way, you won't feel lonely over there.
"What are you thinking about?"
Seeing her silent and downcast, Remington stepped in to shield her from the wind and loosely wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
"Wishing for Daisy to forget us, thinking maybe that way she can find a happier, warmer home sooner, be reborn, and find better parents..." Lizetta's voice was soft, but it pierced Remington's heart.
The man's loosely placed hand on her shoulder tightened, and he turned her to face him, bending slightly to lock eyes with her.
"Why can't we be those better
parents, that happier, warmer home
for her? Maybe Daisy doesn't want
to leave and is waiting for us to reconcile, to return to us in another way."
His gaze was intense and persuasive, compelling her to believe.
Lizetta froze, the wind blowing her hair into her face, which she forgot to brush away.
Remington kept his gaze fixed on her, unblinking, until Lizetta's lips moved slightly, her eyes clearing.
He seemed to find his answer in her eyes and stepped back.
Then, suddenly, he knelt down.
His suit, crisp and without a crease, touched the ground.
Lizetta, startled, reached out to pull him up.
"Brother!"
Her anxious cry came out, but it was too late.
Thud.
His knees hit the marble floor heavily, kneeling before her in a gesture of deep earnestness.
Their eyes met, the shift in perspective bringing a subtle emotional shift. Lizetta looked down at him, shocked.
As the last light vanished from the
sky and the clouds thickened,
leaving not a sliver of brightness, the cemetery lights, one after another, suddenly lit up around them He
looked up at her.
His usually proud and composed face, now stripped of its usual arrogance, was lit by the cold light, casting a lonely shadow.
Mr. Remington Dashiell, a man who
had never kneeled before anyone
was now kneeling at his child's
grave, and before the woman he loved, in sincere supplication