Ribbons Unbound: My Fiancé's Lingering Regret novel Chapter 38

Perhaps it was because he first shared his family stories so openly that I found it easier to speak.

Hesitating, I said,

"My mom passed away, and my dad, like yours, cut ties with me."

That year, at my mom's funeral, a sea of people came, all dressed in black.

The master of ceremonies gave a long eulogy, but I couldn't fully understand it. My mind wandered midway.

I remember looking at my mom's photo, where she seemed to smile at me, and I smiled back.

The next second, I was slapped to the ground by my father.

He roared, "Your mom's dead! How can you still smile?"

Everyone turned to look at me as if I were some kind of monster.

In that moment, I was terrified.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit my lips and didn't dare make a sound.

In the first year after my mom's passing, my dad often sat in the living room at night, flipping through her letters and photos.

By the second year, he had packed her belongings into a few boxes and pushed them into a dusty corner.

By the third year, he had remarried.

The new stepmom dumped the boxes into the yard, saying she wanted to burn them all.

I desperately rummaged through the pile and saved the camera, holding it tightly to my chest.

I burned myself in the process.

From then on, the camera became the only thing left of my mom.

Later, my younger sister was born.

The love and attention of the whole family shifted to her.

I grew up as if invisible, turning eighteen without anyone noticing.

I went to college to study medicine.

On the day of enrollment, my dad handed me a thick stack of money and said,

"You're an adult now. Don't come back."

I nodded and counted it—30,000 yuan.

30,000 yuan severed the blood ties between us.

At university, my teachers and classmates praised me for being well-suited to be a doctor,

saying that I could stay calm no matter the situation.

When I started working, this became my professional strength.

Everyone admired my composure, but only I knew—I was too scared to stop.

Sometimes I wondered if, on the day of the funeral, I hadn't angered my dad,

would he still have abandoned me?

Over the years, I've grown used to suppressing my emotions,

believing that if I ever laughed freely again or shed tears recklessly,

I would lose something even more important.

…

At this point, I let out a small sigh.

These memories, buried in my heart for so long, had never been shared with anyone before.

Joseph's brows furrowed deeply. The usual faint smile at the corners of his lips had disappeared.

His tone was unusually serious.

"Zoey, have you forgotten? You were only five years old at the time."

I froze, a little puzzled. "What?"

"Mercy, Dr. Joseph! Let me go!" I pleaded.

He bared his teeth in a grin and reached out again.

I curled into a ball, bracing myself, but the expected sensation didn't come.

Peeking out cautiously, I saw him extend his hand with his palm open.

In it was a piece of candy.

Smiling, he said, "Here, a reward for the little one."

I stared at him, stunned, and then collapsed weakly against the wall.

Unwrapping the candy, I popped it into my mouth.

It wasn't good—cheap artificial fruit flavor, sickly sweet.

But it made my eyes sting, as if burning.

Joseph crouched down, pulled me up, and held me in his arms.

"Cry," he said softly. "It's okay. I know it hurts."

The warmth and strength of his embrace broke down the last of my defenses.

How long had it been since I felt understood, cherished?

So long that I had started to believe I didn't deserve it.

And yet, here in a foreign land on the other side of the world,

he used a piece of candy to comfort me, just like a child.

In that moment, the tears I had held back since I was five years old finally came pouring out, all at once, twenty years later.

He kept gently patting my back, letting his clothes soak up my tears.

At some point, I didn't even know when, I cried myself to sleep in his arms.