Several times, Sylvan Cheney wanted to go up and embrace her, but in the end, he restrained himself.
Under the moonlight, Jasmine Yale was gentle and quiet. She walked step by step toward the outside of the Financial District, her gaze level ahead, with hardly any ripple of emotion in her eyes.
In the light, her figure moved with her steps, lonely and desolate.
On the roadside, she casually hailed a taxi and went home.
The night in the Financial District lacked clamour and bustle, instead, it was boundlessly quiet.
The wind moved, the leaves moved, the shadows moved.
The bright moonlight stretched endlessly.
...
The next morning, Jasmine Yale felt discomfort in her stomach, sitting quietly on the bed nurturing the baby.
She knew it was due to the intense emotions from last night, making the baby inside uncomfortable.
That morning, the sky was overcast with thick clouds, as if it could rain at any moment.
