Chapter 6
The umbrella was tilted toward Rosella’s side. She had been soaked over and over and didn’t mind getting wet again, but Millard shouldn’t be sullied by the rainwater.
The two walked side by side in the pouring rain. There was only one umbrella, held by Millard. Rosella didn’t dare get close to him. Shrinking under the umbrella, she caught sight of his half–drenched shoulder.
Her heart sank.
Taking a deep breath, Rosella chose her words carefully, “You don’t have to share the umbrella with me. I’m already soaked.”
Millard’s tone remained cold and distant as he replied, “I’m only doing this so Mollie won’t blame me for not taking care of you. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Flatter herself? She wouldn’t dare.
She had paid a painful price for that self–delusion in the past, and she would never forget.
They walked in silence for a long stretch of road. When the lights of the Rowe’s house came into view, Millard finally spoke again, “Remember what you said in the car.”
Rosella had said loving him and clinging to him was a mistake, and she’d never make that kind of mistake again.
“I will. I was too immature before. I’m truly sorry for all of it.”
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Chapter 6
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She had apologized countless times along the way. When she used to cling to him, Millard had wanted her to give up desperately. But now that he finally heard her say so, it didn’t bring much joy.
Millard said nothing and felt nothing.
He closed the umbrella. A maid from the Rowe family came to greet them. She looked at the two and handed the towel to Millard first. Now that Rosella was no longer a Rowe, even the maid could treat her with disregard.
Millard didn’t take it, his face darkening. “Do you think I need it more than she does?”
The maid froze and quickly handed the towel to Rosella. “I–I’ll go get another one.”
“No need. I’m leaving anyway.”
When Mollie came downstairs and saw the two standing together, she hurried over, worry and affection written all over her face. “How did you get so drenched? Weren’t you fine when you left? Why didn’t you use an umbrella?”
“We did.” Rosella clutched the towel and wiped her hands. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re soaked!”
Mollie called out to the maid, “Ada, go run a hot bath for Rosa, or she’ll catch a cold.”
No matter how much time had passed, Mollie’s love had never faded. Rosella murmured her thanks and slowly headed upstairs, while the two people watched her from behind.
Mollie turned to Millard, concern barely hidden under her gentle smile. “Millard, why are you the one bringing Rosa back? I asked
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Dewey to take her-”
“Elliot didn’t show up,” Millard said flatly. “Dewey went looking for him.”
“He didn’t go?”
Anger flickered on Mollie’s dignified face. “How could he do that? It’s so disrespectful! I’m telling his parents!”
Then, she calmed down again.
“Anyway, thank you for bringing her back. Next time, just have Dewey call me.”
Millard nodded, then said out of the blue, “Mollie, I hear you’re planning to marry her into the Freeman family?”
While showering, Rosella locked the door and didn’t let anyone in.
Mollie knocked lightly. “Rosa, are you feeling okay? Should I get you some medicine just in case?”
“No, no need.”
She wasn’t that delicate. In the past three years, Rosella had gained the ability to endure anything. When her arm was dislocated from a beating, she’d bite down on a towel and set it herself. She’d wake from the pain and head into the snowstorm just to make money. In winter, she always wore a pair of shoes with the soles coming apart.
Snow would get in, and her toes would freeze purple and stiff.
Compared to that, getting caught in the rain was really nothing.
Rosella quickly got dressed and stepped out. Mollie was waiting for her, taking her hand, gently brushing her face, and touching her
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forehead. “I told Dewey to take care of you. Why did he let you get soaked like this?”
“It’s alright.”
Rosella had learned to be understanding, polite, and gentle.
Mollie had once prayed every day for her daughter to grow up a little, to stop being so naughty, to stop upsetting her father. But now that she had truly changed, Mollie couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness.
Mollie sat Rosella down and began toweling off her damp hair. That once–silky, jet–black hair was now like wilted weeds, dull and lifeless.
Just like Rosella herself.
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