TimeNovelChapter 624 In the stillness of the night, Frederick's mind snapped into harsh clarity.
Marguerite's probing question had sent him spiraling into a labyrinth of self- reflection and doubt.
Had his fervent kisses and possessive embrace been acts of love or spiteful revenge? His thoughts, a tangled web of unrest, spurred him to dress with hurried motions, a desperate urge to flee not just the room but also Marguerite's unsettling inquiry.
Yet as he tugged at the stubborn door handle, which refused to yield, he was faced with the stark reality that there was no escape.
Resigned, Frederick returned to the room without approaching Marguerite. He drew back the curtains and stood on the balcony to smoke, his silhouette bathed in the lunar glow, majestic yet tinged with an air of melancholy. Marguerite's heart ached more deeply than the sorrowful scene before her. Watching him smoke, one cigarette after another, she felt an overwhelming sense of loss.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtWas it so hard for him to distinguish love from hate? All she wanted was an answer, but even that seemed a luxury beyond her reach.
Tpassed, and at last, Frederick finished his final cigarette and turned back to the dimly lit bedroom. His eyes were inscrutable pools of shadow, and Marguerite could not discern the emotions they concealed.
"I'll be in the living room. You should get srest," he said, his voice void of the passion that had just consumed them. It was as if their intense encounter had been nothing but a figment of Marguerite's imagination. Yet that figment felt so palpably real to her, the emotions and sensations still vivid in her memory.
He went to the living room, where he dozed off on the couch, never uttering another word or stepping foot back into the bedroom.
Marguerite turned off the lamp, surrendering her body and her tumultuous feelings to the enveloping darkness, as tears silently fell once more.
Meanwhile, at the Winston Mansion.
Teresa sat in her room, her canvas poised before a photograph of Frederick and Marguerite, unsure where to begin.
The vast canvas remained bare, save for a scattering of facial features she had started to draw.
A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Anticipating her mother's return, she quickly swapped Frederick's photograph with one of Maurice.
Peeking toward the doorway with a guilty conscience, she was instead greeted by Hayes, donning blue pajamas and dashing into the room, much to her relief.
"Little Mute, why aren't you asleep yet?" Teresa asked wearily, rubbing her eyes.
"I did sleep... woke up to pee... saw your light on... just cto... check on you..." Hayes seemed wide awake after his nap.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmHe gazed at Teresa's canvas, pointing to the disjointed features, his confusion evident.
"Weren't you... supposed to draw... your brother's face? Why are there... so many noses and mouths?" Despite her fatigue from a day's work, Teresa mustered the energy to explain to Hayes,
"I'm looking at two adults now, and I don't know which features of my brother cfrom pad and which from Mom. Their eyes, noses, mouths, there are so many combinations. So, I have to draw my daddy's and mommy's features separately, then try to combine them."
Hayes instantly grasped her logic.
Being a portrait artist was not as simple as he had imagined - there were intricacies he had never considered! This realization made Teresa's talent all the more impressive to him.
With newfound admiration, Hayes inspected the features on the canvas and compared them to the photographs of Maurice and Marguerite.
He could identify several features that belonged to Marguerite, but curiously, the remaining ones didn't En seem to match Maurice at all...
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